june 19 2007

Just went in to have a look ar my memories. could not make head or tail to it. I hope someone with more education them me. will take control of the computer and choke the damn thing. till it spits out evereything I wrote which is hidden somewhere inside. J.N.Jeddore

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only took what we needed. if there was nothing else to get. but Uncle Frank would always have his fall partridge hunt. very much unindian, I used to hear him tell his boys. next week we have to go out Roity Bay partridge hunting. they would spend a week out there. gathering partridge like berries. Uncle Frank had odd ways he and his family would set a lot of
potatoes. fields of them, then in the fall would dig them up. pick out all the small ones. keep the big ones for himself. if he couldent sell the small ones. he would fill up wheel barrows. wheel them out to the wharf. dump them overboard before he would give them away, I suppose it was only right. because if other people did'nt bother to set his own. let him do without them, as part Indian. he did'nt fully understand Indian ways,
It was in this early part of my life as I reached the age of reason. I gradually absorbed into my intellect. all the traditional superstitions of my Micmac ancestors. such as not to point one,s finger at a bear, a strong habit of a person when he's the first one to see a bear. To direct the other fellow where to look. it is believed you will always loose the bear if you do that. strange as this might seem it usually happens, the bear always gets away, it could be possible. that the one who is about to do the shooting. get so damn mad. at the one who pointed his finger. that he gets careless and frightens the bear away. thereby convincing his belief in this all the more. that the finger is to blame. another one is when gathering boughs. to lie on in the camp. be sure to take out
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all the red dry boughs. or if
you sleep on them. you will most likely chop yourself before the fall is over. Uncle Victor Jeddore did this once. and cut his foot. and the only thing the Elders could put the blame on. was the red boughs he slept on. to my knowledge though this was the only time this happened, other taboos never eat a certain small bone in a Beavers foot. or you would sure become crippled, when cleaning the entrails of a deer. and boiling it which is a delicacy? be sure to snip off the very tip of the appendix. before you eat it. if you eat it. the next time you hunt deer. it will see you first and whistle at you. and get away without you seeing it. Uncle Steve Joe ate this once. and this happened to him.nobody ate this part anymore including myself. Even to the present day I avoiod eating it..some other look into the future. was when you shot a partridge. on your furring ground. after you had boiled it and took all the meat off the breast bone. the keel like part. hold it up to the light. if it,s covered with red fine dots. there is lots of animals on your country. if the bone is clean and white theres nothing on your land, this they call animal tracks, when skinning an otter. as you skin out the tail you pull the last
bit off. if theres some hair left on the bone tip. theres more otters on your land. if it comes off
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clean. you have got the last otter on your land. this and many other signs and predictions. are
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entrenched deep into my system. even to this day. and will always instinctively rise to the surface. whenever the occasion arises, theres one that stands out in my mind. whenever father shot a beaver. he would always look deep into the entrails. and tell how many beaver was in the house. or living together in that particular house. I wish I had tried to find out more about this. because it seems he was always right. it was quite easy for me to tell if the beaver had company. because he was always clean shaven. I found this out on one occasion when I noticed the beaver was clean shaven. and asked pop what happened to the beaver. he said the other one living with him chewed his whiskers off. I have no formal education my senses are all the education I need
in my way of life, my father was my teacher from early childhood. he taught me all the things I need to know to survive, I became a man at a very early age. in these times we had to to survive, everything I know I learned from my father. he was a very great hunter. very strong and knowledgeable. our tradetion and custom was in his blood. as was the lifestyle of our kin the animals. as were all the micmac people of the time, the Micmac where great story tellers. I could lie in the bunk and listen for hours to pop or uncle John Benoit telling stories. /
In my times the only thing on my mind was surviva.l as I said my father taught me how to survive in the most severe condetions, in our travels he told me many stories from
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his fathers times .his grandfathers times also, the feats of human endurance that were accomplished by these micmac people. if accomplished by the european men. would reviberate around the world over and over many times. A true story this as told to by Sylvester Jeddore. in one of his many excursion's in mid winter. as was the way of life of the Micmac people, on this particular day. he was on his way out from gull pond or around there. which was Jeddores country. as he came down to conne steady. as happens many times. while crossing to steady he fell through the ice. no big deal . because he knew the steady well. He also knew the water was only couple feet deep, but as it happened he got wet up to his waist, god he said it was cold. but that did'nt bother him. because he knew there was a wigwam close by. so he headed for it. to his surprise and fear for his life. there were no wigwam where it should be. he must have missed it somehow. but his instincts told him it should be right where he was standing, getting uneasy now and with a great fear of freezing to death. because his clothes was already frozen. by all indications a blizzard was coming on. he walked around in a circle and puzzled bewelderment what happened to the wigwam?. knowing in his heart he
did not miss the location. as he was walking where the wigwam should be. his foot scraped scraped a small bump some snow fell in leaving a dark hole. He peared down was over joyed to see daylight fell on some cloven wood, he relized right away this was the wigwam.
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under about twelve feet of snow, he made the hole a little bigger and dropped down through the rafters. to the ground floorsome six feet below. into the stillness of the wigwam, there he knelt and prayed giving thanks to his maker. while the storm raged outside, there was plenty of wood. so he did not have to get out. for tea he filled his kettle with snow and melted it. now he could weather out the storm in comfort and content. I remember one fictional story that came from Uncle John Benoit. about an old man. who went beaver hunting. he took with him a young boy. they travelled on for two days. without any sign of beaver. the young boy was very disheartened. on the third day well into the evening. they saw a beaver. the young boy was overjoyed. but the old man just kept going on further, on the fourth day in the after noon again they saw more beaver. the boy was very hungry. he was hoping the old man would take a beaver for supper. but not so. the old man just kept going on. on the fifth day it was just after noon. when they saw more beaver. a lot more. to his joy the old man said we camp here. the boy had not eaten for over four days. was very hungry. when they had the camp up. the old man killed a beaver. but acted very strange. he went some distance from camp and built a fire. he then roasted the beaver sat down ate all by himself. Not offering the young boy any. took the rest and put it in his pack. lay back on the boughs and went to sleep. the boy had a hard time going to sleep. because he was too hungry, they arose again the next morning early and travelled on again. this time there were plenty of beaver. but the old man didn't seem to notice. the
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boy being brought up as all Indian children asked no questions. but suffered in silence. all that day they travelled passing beaver houses all along the

way. that evening they camped. early before the beaver left their house to feed. then the old man picked a narrow shallow place in the steady. told the boy to stand there over the spot. he then went and cut a piece of hardwood about four feet long. he then gave the stick to the boy and told him. take this stick and kill every beaver that passed through this narrow place. don't stop until you have killed enough, the boy did likewise as the beaver passed through he lifted the stick and killed one. the dead beaver floated back down along the shoreline stopped there. the boy kept this up till all his strength was gone. he could no longer lift the stick. with a final stroke with the stick the boy fell back exhausted. there he lay. the old man took a beaver and cleaned it and roasted it. then called the boy and told him to eat all he wanted, that night after they had all the beaver cleaned. the boy ventured to ask a question that had been on his mind since the old man roasted the beaver. and would not share with him., saying grandfather why did you not take a beaver for me too when you ate last. you must have known I was hungry also. the old man answered son. had I taken another beaver for you. that would be the only beaver we would ever see for the rest of our lives, but this way all the beaver we passed on our
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way in. came to you for to take while you had the strength to do so. now we have all the beaver we need. Uncle John never
did explain the morale of the story. but left it for our own interpretation, This true story as told to
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me by my father on one of our many travels, at one time Uncle denny needed some meat. as he came over a ridge. a nice Doe was standing on the barren ground. just the other side of the deer was a pond. couple hundred yards wide. Uncle Denny as always was earring a 30-30 Rifle, no problem he fired at the deer. the deer ran a few yards and fell down, as he walked to the deer he glanced toward the other side of pond, where as he put it. close to the land something was splashing about in the water, he continued on paunched the deer and took what meat he needed . he thought he may as well walk over to the other side of the pond to check out what was

splashing about a little while before, since it was near by where he was headed, when he got where he saw the willom [disturbance in the water] there were two blackducks with the heads shot off both of them, they were right in the line of fire when he shot the deer. the bullet passed right on through the deer striking them both in the neck, one in millions of millions of chances. Some people might say
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this is all crap, but knowing the micmac people as I do. I know it to be true, will the next yarn has something to do with crap, on this occasion Uncle Denny said he went and had a crap beside a big rock. as he finished mossing off. [using moss for toilet paper]his brother Noel came down the barren ground, he said to himself I play a joke on him..he poked his bare butt from behind the rock. and started to jump up and down. Noel he said froze in his tracks. looked for couple seconds then without any hisitation levered a bullet into the chamber of his 30-30 rifle, he said I turned around started hollering and waving my arms. did'nt have time to haul up my pants, that night. he said I asked

page 8 of the continuation of my memories

MEMORIES page 1
by
JOHN NICHOLAS JEDDORE (MICMAC INDIAN)
CONNE RIVER RESERVATION
NEWFOUNDLAND JULY 10, 1989 page 1
October 1st 1922, I John Nicholas Jeddore was born to Peter Frances Jeddore and Sarah Ann House Micmac Indian Father White Mother,! am of the Land I am Indian, there are very few of us left that are a direct link to the traditional Micmac way of life, my destiny is from very early in my life you will find me skimming along over the water in a canoe, shooting down the wild rapids, or drifting along on raft on some beautiful steady as the muskrat the beaver and otter frolicked in the water all around me. at night you will find me lying under the stars by a campfire watching the flankers[sparkels] as they shoot skyward like find strands of brass wire, listening to the rhythm of the crackling wood as it steadily burns in the fire.as the fire dies down I cast thoughts




to my maker in thanks giving. and drift off in silent slumber ever alert to the sounds of the night, wether it be the knocking of hooves on the hard ground, the silent padding of hairy paws. or the light breeze in the treetops. I hear the slight shift of the night breeze in the treetops the sound of rippling water in the night air. as the sound disappears with the shifting of the light breeze. I hear the familiar sound of the River rapids far up the lake. and instinctively can almost tell for certain what the weather will be like the next day. As I fall deeper in slumber my last conscious act is to pull the thin worn blanket over me. with a final whif of smoke from the now dying fire I fall deep into sleep. and cross over to the mysterious land of dreams, there I lie while the spirits keep a silent vigil over my still form, with sleep I will revitalize my body through the long night in preparation for the many miles of walking the next day* Early before dawn the next morning I awaken to the hooting sound of the night owl. as I tear up the birch bark and strike a match to it. the wonderful smell of birch bark smoke fills my nostrels. a sensation that will remain with me forever. as I gather the dry splits and place them on the fire as the page 2
flankers start to ascend up through the smoke hole in the wigwam. the night owl go crazy. they hoot and make every kind of sound at times like rabbit screaming other times like babys crying. I lie back and enjoy the warmth of the fire for a few minutes before I get and boil some tea and with a piece of dried venison I will have my morning meal, next you will see me gliding silently over the marsh in mossicaned feet like a ghost in the pre-dawn hours of the morning. As the sun rises higher in the sky my only other sign will be blue smoke rising from some valley or gorge. as I stop to prepare my mid-day meal. of the same unstweetened tea and cold boiled beaver goose or some other wild meat, next you will find me high atop of some mountain. viewing Gods creation refreshing my whole body with the freshness of the mountain breeze and the beauty of my surroundings. As

night falls again. you will find me entering into some thick forest to rest again. to refresh my body all over again to continue the cycle of my way of life. While my kinfolke the animals. go on the prowl to continue their way of life, And so it was in the year of 19301 as I started my nomad way of life. To continued the unbroken chain. of my Indian Ancesters as they lived for thousands of years. Trapping hunting living off the land. taking care the land, the land was ours solely occupied by the Indian people .and their kin the Animals, It was on this day on the 20th of September 1930. we left Conne. in company was the following Uncle Nicholas Jeddore his two sons Uncle Matt and Uncle Paul Incholas, Uncle Noel Louis, my Father Peter Uncle Charles House Whiteman on Mothers side and myself John Nick, the elders had hired what
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may 12/o7 I may have a terible mess made but is the best I can do.

MEMORIES page 1
by
JOHN NICHOLAS JEDDORE (MICMAC INDIAN)
CONNE RIVER RESERVATION
NEWFOUNDLAND JULY 10, 1989 page 1
October 1st 1922, I John Nicholas Jeddore was born to Peter Frances Jeddore and Sarah Ann House Micmac Indian Father White Mother,! am of the Land I am Indian, there are very few of us left that are a direct link to the traditional Micmac way of life, my destiny is from very early in my life you will find me skimming along over the water in a canoe, shooting down the wild rapids, or drifting along on raft on some beautiful steady as the muskrat the beaver and otter frolicked in the water all around me. at night you will find me lying under the stars by a campfire watching the flankers[sparkels] as they shoot skyward like find strands of brass wire, listening to the rhythm of the crackling wood as it steadily burns in the fire.as the fire dies down I cast thoughts




to my maker in thanks giving. and drift off in silent slumber ever alert to the sounds of the night, wether it be the knocking of hooves on the hard ground, the silent padding of hairy paws. or the light breeze in the treetops. I hear the slight shift of the night breeze in the treetops the sound of rippling water in the night air. as the sound disappears with the shifting of the light breeze. I hear the familiar sound of the River rapids far up the lake. and instinctively can almost tell for certain what the weather will be like the next day. As I fall deeper in slumber my last conscious act is to pull the thin worn blanket over me. with a final whif of smoke from the now dying fire I fall deep into sleep. and cross over to the mysterious land of dreams, there I lie while the spirits keep a silent vigil over my still form, with sleep I will revitalize my body through the long night in preparation for the many miles of walking the next day* Early before dawn the next morning I awaken to the hooting sound of the night owl. as I tear up the birch bark and strike a match to it. the wonderful smell of birch bark smoke fills my nostrels. a sensation that will remain with me forever. as I gather the dry splits and place them on the fire as the page 2
flankers start to ascend up through the smoke hole in the wigwam. the night owl go crazy. they hoot and make every kind of sound at times like rabbit screaming other times like babys crying. I lie back and enjoy the warmth of the fire for a few minutes before I get and boil some tea and with a piece of dried venison I will have my morning meal, next you will see me gliding silently over the marsh in mossicaned feet like a ghost in the pre-dawn hours of the morning. As the sun rises higher in the sky my only other sign will be blue smoke rising from some valley or gorge. as I stop to prepare my mid-day meal. of the same unstweetened tea and cold boiled beaver goose or some other wild meat, next you will find me high atop of some mountain. viewing Gods creation refreshing my whole body with the freshness of the mountain breeze and the beauty of my surroundings. As

night falls again. you will find me entering into some thick forest to rest again. to refresh my body all over again to continue the cycle of my way of life. While my kinfolke the animals. go on the prowl to continue their way of life, And so it was in the year of 19301 as I started my nomad way of life. To continued the unbroken chain. of my Indian Ancesters as they lived for thousands of years. Trapping hunting living off the land. taking care the land, the land was ours solely occupied by the Indian people .and their kin the Animals, It was on this day on the 20th of September 1930. we left Conne. in company was the following Uncle Nicholas Jeddore his two sons Uncle Matt and Uncle Paul Incholas, Uncle Noel Louis, my Father Peter Uncle Charles House Whiteman on Mothers side and myself John Nick, the elders had hired what
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Today Nicholas Jeddore died. I wonder how many realize the significance of this sad event. Nickley, the last of the fluent user of the micmac language in Conne.Nickley was born on the reservation of Conne River in the early ninteen hundreds
Nickley spoke the Micmac language, a direct link in the chain of unbroken Micmac language from the beginning of the Micmac Nation; from thousands and thousands of years back. A language that echoes back from time immemorial, a word I never use, only in such case as this. To me it was like something irreversible. As Nickley breathed his last breath .there appeared a chasm in time. that could never be bridged. It was so final. that I felt engulfed by a great desolation and emptiness. I had dreaded it all along. When it happened it was shattering, which could only be felt by someone who could fathom the dept and understand the meaning of this final passing. You can do what you like, spend millions and millions of dollars. but this connection could be broken forever. if not salvaged by us, most important Michael Joe sr. and Ralph John. Vida Stride. and Cassimer Benoit. But I doubt it will it will ever come fort from these people. It tore at me. as something I did not want to let go of. The day Nickley died I was panic stricken. as I became engulfed by the realization. of what the few "of us Micmac people had lost. Nickley, the strong. and solid link. of the Micmac people welded by culture, custom. and language. to our ancestors, has left just a scattering of weaker links. which will perhaps soon sink into oblivion. The following will be a bit of history.which took place prior to the near total assimilation of the present day.all this happened when the Micmac people of conne river. were masters of their own disteny. and the land they hunted and trapped on belonged to them. by rights Of occupation. no white man ever trod these inland territories then or before. [excepts from the writings of McCormac] only then with an Indian guide, it was many years later. before the non Indian ventured the interior. in these times all white people were fisher people. only the Indian belonged to the land. as years went by it seems the white man. got greedy. after fishing season was over. he began to encroach on Indian territory. first to shoot caribou. then to take furs that belonged to the Indian, venturing further and further. pushing the Micmac further back. when I started out with my father. we had to go miles and miles inland. passing the whiteman on the way in,still the Micmacs never encroached on the whitemans waters. to take their fish. as Uncle Joe Jeddore said. let the whiteman take the the sea. we will take the country [meaning the hunting grounds ] then came the game wardens. at first they encroached on our reserve. carrying out raids on our people. I recall one such raid Ralph and Wilfred John. orphens that Uncle Joe and Aunt Mary took in when they were small. and reared them up, here I must stray from my story to remanis on the past,Uncle Joe Jeddore forever enshrined in History in a book called Newfoundlands untrodden ways and hundres of other books, I was very fortunate enough to live during. Uncle Joes lifetime Uncle Joe. the meek the humble the most lovable man that ever lived. as was his wife Aunt Mary [lewis]Jeddore. better known as Aunt Mary Liwis. I have lived with Uncle Joe. in tents and shacke I admired this man more then any other man in the world except my Father, He was a very good relegious man.never and I repeat. Never did anything to hurt anyone in his life. Very charitable.great respect for the church the Priests and Bishops all clergy and his fellow men,not a day passed without him worshiping his creator in prayer and charitable works. evening time we would hear him his wife Aunt Mary his Brother Uncle John Denny his brother in law Uncle Noel Lewis singing Hymne in Micmac for hours.at times I as a young boy would creep in and listen. I felt I was in the presence of holiness, Uncle Joe prayed till he could pray no more , He then gave me the honor of praying for him. I will forever regret I could not pray in the Micmac language.Uncle Joe as did everyone else accept my praying as if in was in his own language.as I prayed thr rosary in english he answered in Micmac
Though I could not speak the language I knew every prayer he said.Getting back to my to to my story concerning the rain on our reserve.in 1940 Ralph Wilfred and Nat and Nat all brothers. were out roaming the road. like all young fellows they happen to meet up with somebodys sister. I believe they got a bet unruly. A bit of abusive. she was very much offended. came home crying told her Brother. he got mad instead of doing the manly thing go to them. or report it to the authorities. knowing they had a moose in the store house. he phoned the Mounties and reported about the moose what we called blowed on them, The very next day the mounties came. and searched the house. and store house. covering their informer by pretending to be looking for home brew. found the moose. as they very will knew they would. they were taking it out of the store. old Aunt Mary went up to them. and knelt on the ground before them. and begged them to leave enough for easter dinner. since this was a very important day to in our church, they just ignored her and took it all. not only that. they somehow found Uncle Paul Nicholas Jeddore had some of the liver. they went to his place. Uncle was frying the liver on the stove when they came in. it was nearly cooked. they took it all out of the frying pan put it in a bag carried it with them,unable to pay the fine the boys got thrown in jail,back to my time with Nickley,
My memories of Nickley are many. As a young fellow 16 years old I trudged hundreds of miles behind Nickley. over barrens. bogland and marshes, up and down rivers. in canoe. and on foot. and on rafts, lying in a canvas tent. wigwam. or shack, watching the open fire, watching the stars, listening to the night owl as it hooted all through the night. I can still hear dear old Nickleys voice echoing in the hills across the steady. as the sun was setting. he sang Micmac hymns. while chopping on a piece of wood, making molds [ molds,flad pieces of board like wood. shaped into form to suit the animal skin. Getting them ready. for the otter we had shot while traveling the day before, I can still hear his hearty laugh as he split our otter in two while showing off to me. how he could sculp an otter; [ sculp, using a sharp knife to cut meat and fat off the pelt to dry out for sale] bragging "I can race John Benoit sculping an otter anytime," Nickley had this old bread knife. he had it as sharp as a razor. the way we do this we put the otter skin on the molds. and wedge it tight. then we would slice the meat and fat off. using long cutting strokes. from the butt of the tai.l up to the shoulder. as he was slicing in a sweeping motion. going faster and faster. this was when he said he could race John Benoit any day sculping an Otter. As he said this. he split our otter skin. from the tail right to the neck. Nickley burst out in one of his hearty laughs. and said O gar I cut our Otter. then spent half the night whistling under his breath, carefully trying to sew our otter together.
In spite of the few times Nickley lost his temper, he was good to me. and very patient with someone so awkward, compared to himself, for he knew I was only in the learning process. clinging to the only life I knew. Which was a fight for survival, In spite of what I have come to believe, now it was a fight for survival. Nickley was always happy. Strange as it may seem, it is only now that I class the life then as a fight for survival. because many years before. it was the normal Indian way of life. I guess that is the reason. Nickley was always happy.,little did we know

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then. that this land we believed was ours. would be taken from us. and we would be prosecuted just for existingjn. the middle of April the snow as not all gone from in the woods. Nickley came and asked me to go Ratting with him. this was another time I felt greately honored. having this Great Micmac hunter asking me to acompany him on a hunting and furring trip, We packed our bundles and left early inthe morning heading for Uncle Dennys Telt { Wigwam}the first night we camped on Joe Pauls Hill not bothering to hunt yet since our destination was as mentioned above this trip and others will be described in the following pages as best I could,
My personal memories of Nickley are all fond memories even when we had hard times I will never forget the times we spent together in the country or at home in Conne River. As I close my eyes I can recall memories of us drifting down the steady on a raft in late Spring evenings while muskrat hunting or lying on the barrens in the fall waiting for geese to fly over, hear his happy laugh as a goose started to fall after he fired at it. It fell in a small water or pond on the barrens, its wing was broken.Nickley told me to fire at it, I did and flattened it out on the water. Nickley reached out and pulled it ashore.breaking out in one of his big hearthy laughs as he always did at the least little satisfying thing that happened especially if I did it this always made me feel so good, We headed down the barren ground slope towards camp - we had our supper,
I recall the many times we sat by the steady motionless for hours waiting for a otter or a beaver to come out. On one of these evenings he shot the otter while setting in wait for a beaver by the beaver house. This is the otter, I mentioned earlier, where I recall his voice echoing across the steady in the hills as I sat by the campfire frying pancakes while he was making otter molds and singing Micmac hymns and he cut our otter down the middle showing me how fast he could sculp an otter racing John Benoit. this is where he started to sing like uncle Steve Joe he could really imitate uncle Steves voice,
I can recall his displeasure when we saw a lynx on the side of the steady and I fired at it with a load of shot and missed he started shouting, sixty dollars gone. I recall how he got out of the canoe, tramped up the river bank, threw his gun to his shoulder and fired. He then tramped in the tucks, [tucks, short thick spruce bush or brush] brought out the lynx and burst out laughing. I said to Nickley while believing in my own mind that I had shot the lynx, "Nickley, what was the lynx doing? He said, "He was sitting down looking out that way", using the ancient Micmac signal of pointing with his lips toward the setting sun.
I recall the time Nickley and myself went up Conne Brook to try for a salmon. Contrary to our white friends branding all Indians as poachers, We had nothing but rod reel the reel was made of an old empty sticking plaster reel the rod was a wooden pole and some of Nickley's moose hair flys. This was in may 1938. My father and Nickley were the first ever to use the moose hair flys. Then some Vokey man publicly took credit in 1964 for inventing them and got away with it. [this trip was in early may] black thread was used for leader, Willie Burk suggested we use sinew but as pop said the devil wouldent keep it tied,
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Will this time we did not get any salmon, though Nickley said he did see one twist on the side, a strong habit of the salmon when he is annoyed. Well we got up next morning Nickley cooked breakfast I remember he had a can of beans one of his favorite canned meals Nickley was not a greedy person what ever he had he would always give the other person more than half, he did the same to me on this morning we had a pancake something Nickley could cook better than anyone I know could, it was on this morning I found how particular Nickley was over his turf, we were living in a canvas tent at the time this was what we used where ever we went just a small one big enough for two people something nice and light to carry. Nickley always lived on the right of the camp looking out as every Elder did my place was on the left and I found out I dare not cross over to his side on my way in or out. on this morning as we were getting ready to pack up to leave I wanted to go out doors for something and started to rush out on his side there were no reason I shoulden't because there was plenty room to go out. Nickley must have been waiting all along for just such mistake on my part because as I was about to go out he shot his arm across barring my way saying my path this way yours that way you go that way, after we had eaten and packed our bundles [bundle, a pack made up of a square piece of cotton 8 ounce duck drawn togethe at both ends with a sling] [sling, a strap six feet long two and half inch wide knitted by Micmacs on a hand made loom] with a short piece of string tied around the middle to keep it snug, we headed over the hill on the south side of Conne Brook "to look for some money," as Nickley put it.
As we travelled down the other side of the slope, through open tall timber, we broke out in the middle of south east pond. We boiled kettle there. After we had eaten and were getting ready to move on, I knew he had it in mind to go around the eastern end of southeast pond. I also knew it was very thick with alders and tucks, very hard going. While on the west end there was some open ground, with barren ground on the other side, and much easier walking. Feeling a little tired being only young and not as tough as Nickley and thinking I might sway him into going around the west end, I said, "Nickley it is better walking this way, pointing to the west end." "No", he said, "no money that way. We go this way," pointing to the east end. So this way we went, his way.
We headed on up the other side to a place called fox house ridge. By the ridge there were couple small ponds, real nice place for muskrats. Nickley knew very well were we were going when we left Conne Brook. By the way, I forgot to mention, this was what Nickley meant when he said we go look for some money. He meant go hunt some muskrats. Knowing and understanding Nickley so well, I often forget some small things which is very important in explaining the ways of a Micmac we reached a small droke,[droke nice wooded area big enough to put up tent in] after we had put up camp Nickley went out to see if there were any muskrats in the pond. Shortly after he left I could hear some shots, just before sunset. A little later, I could hear him coming in through the little path that lead in to our camp. He was, as he often did when he was happy -which mostly he was, whistling under his breath.

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I will always remember and recall the uncrollable quiver of his chin and jaw, hear his shriek as he realized he had brought back to camp a live muskrat folded over his neck, one he thought he had killed but only stunned.
I was setting in camp with the kettle boiled when he came in and threw down two muskrats. I was looking at them when it seemed one was looking straight at me his eyes were right bright and lifelike. I said, "Nickley, one of your muskrats is still alive." He said, "go on how could he be alive with bullet through his head?" He came in and took his gun and poked it in the face. When he lifted up his gun the muskrat was hanging on his teeth clamped on the gunstock. Nickley made a big screech and said," God, I brought him in on my neck he could have chewed my neck off'We did not stop in very long this time because we were not prepared after not getting any salmon Nickley thought we could probabely make good of out short trip,Early the next morning we left for home some fifteen miles west, Conne River,
I recall him setting on the bank one time - for hours, twisting and turning a trout hook he had driven into his finger, trying to get it out and hear his joyful laugh when he had succeeded in removing it. Recall the nights we lay in the open air near the sidecamp watching the stars, the times we lay in the sidecamp watching the flankers as the streaked skywards like fine wire.
It was on one such occasion Nickley Ruben Stride and I were lying in the camp in Jeddores Lake then called long pond before it was flooded. We were watching the flankers streaking up when a little gust of wind took them and blew them all in the woods - Nickley said, "there, all hands jumped into the woods."
Nickley was a good man, deeply religious, had great respect for the priests and bishops like all true Micmac people of the time did. he respected his fellow men also,
Although Nickley could stand the bitter cold, he also loved extreme heat. I remember one Spring in May, we were going ratting- the term we used for muskrat hunting. We left early in the morning heading for Conne Steady. We were in no hurry as Indians are never in a rush, they enjoy the country life too much to tear and fuss around. It took us to around two o'clock in the evening to reach Rockey Brook. Nickley said, "we have lunch here." We boiled the kettle and had lunch. After we had finished we sat back for a little rest. The sun was real hot, so hot in fact I had to move back from the fire. Nickley gathered up some rindfdried bark] that came off the pulp wood - they had handshaved pulpwood there a year before. This he packed into the fire. Nickley lay back real close to the fire and said, "this is what I like." He fell into a deep sleep. I sat by and waited. The sun was hot but I kept a little fire going. I was afraid to wake him so I just waited. We had planned to go on in towards Black Duck Pond to see if there was any sign of muskrat. I waited and waited, finally Nickley woke up. It was near sundown, I said, "Nickley, what we going to do?" He let out a big laugh and said, "we camp here."
Nickley used to go to St. Albans often in these times too, when we lived out Burnt Woods. As the sun came up in the morning, I would look down towards the reservation there would be someone coming off on the ice at Partridge Point. As he got closer, I could see he was wearing

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snowshoes; not only that but he would walk two steps and then run. a ways, I would know right away it was Nickley because nobody else moved this way.
I remember the time Gilbert (my brother) and I was very hungry not having had anything to eat that day as we were passing by nickleys he shouted to us asking us to come he must have known we were hungry because he said I have no food but I boiled couple trout today and have the broth its real good he took the bakepot aand we each took turns drinking from the pot whild he held it. he had already eaten the few trout he had boiled but he had not yet thrown out the broth, so he gave this to Gilbert and myself; not because he could not drink it himself but since he had already eaten it would have gone sour after awhile. We thought the trout broth was wonderful. It really was on our empty stomachs.
There was the time up at Noeljeejeg. Nickley and Ruben Stride came out the junipers late in August. There were two big fat stags standing on the barren ground, a most welcome sight after miles of travel in the hot sun. Nickley told Ruben to give to him. Ruben fired at the stag and missed. Nickley grumbled, grabbed his gun, threw it to his shoulder took quick aim and fired at the stag point blank. Not realizing he had also missed, he stuck his gun up by a juniper looked at the stag and shouted there take that and carry it off. The stag did because he kept running across the big open for miles till he went out of sightNickley had missed but dont tell him because he would already have an alibi There was nothing to eat this evening again.
Another time Nickley and myself were muskrat hunting in Noeljeejeg Steady. This was in 1939 or 40.One evening, as we sat waiting in the canoe a muskrat came up, right face on to me. As I was sitting in the head of the canoe, I had the advantage of shooting. Nickley said, "give it to him." I recall what my dad told me many times do not fire at a muskrat when he's facing you because you won't hurt him, the shot will only slid back on his smooth face. Hard as this is to understand this is a fact. Remembering this, I said to Nickley, "I wont hurt him face on." "Hell" he said, "give it to him." I fired. The muskrat went down. "Damn, he said, "you missed him." He said, "just turn the boat a little; let me show you someone who don't miss." We waited for some ten minutes but the muskrat did not come up. Nickley said, "he knew better than to come up because he would be dead."
Early the next evening around three o'clock it was nice and warm. While I was boiling the kettle, Nickley went out by the steady. We had our camp just a ways in from the steady. We had to walk about fifteen feet to the steady. Anyway while Nickley was out there, just before I had the kettle boiled, I heard him fire. I dropped the kettle and ran out where Nickley was. He was sitting by the steady, still holding his gun. There was a little haze of blue smoke floating over the black calm water. The few ripples made by his shot hitting the water was just settling back to its original calmness. Nickley, I asked, "what you fired at?" "Muskrat" he answered "Were is he?" "Off there", he answred The water was calm as oil but there was nothing on the water. "Nickley", I said, "I can't see it anywhere." "He sunk, said Nickley. "Nickley", I said, "you know muskrat don't sink." "He got to sink when he's full of lead," Nickley answered, sort of annoyed at my

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questioning him. I did not say anything but jumped into the canoe and paddled off. "Nickley, I asked, "were to?" "Right there were you looking." I said, "I can't see anything." He said, "What's wrong with your eyes? Can't you see him there on the bottom?", but I saw nothing. Nickley had missed again, but never in a thousand years would he admit it.
The next evening we walked up the slope, a real pretty place with barrens all the way to the top of the hill. We walked up to the top, just outside of John Martin's lookout, some people call this place burrn napps others call it middle ridge but the real name is Uncle Joes Wigwam or Joes Telt, As we sat there we heard some geese honking. They were coming straight for us. Nickley put a shell in his gun and waited. As they flew over Nickley fired. One started to fall and Nickley made a big happy laugh. It fell in a small pond on the barren ground. Its wing was broken. Nickley said, "give it to em" meaning fire at it I did and straightened it out. "Good," Nickley said, as he went and pulled it ashore. We went back down the big wide open pretty barren ground slope to our camp. Nickley picked the goose and put it on for supper. After we had lunch it was around four o'clock in the evening. I was feeling a bit tired. I lay back. Nickley lay back also. I soon fell asleep but Nickley didn't. I suppose he was still thinking about the muskrat he had sunk. I awoke slightly as he got up and went out and sat by the steady. Later on after falling asleep again, I awoke with a start. Nickley was pulling on my leg he had dragged me halfway out the camp opening. He was right excited, saying, "somebody coming up the brook ... somebody coming up the brook." I being a Micmac could communicate with the micmac people, knew their mind but as it happened, I was shaken out of sleep. My mind was sort of confused. In those times, there were rangers roaming around, although we never saw one back in the country. This was the first thing came to my mind when he said "somebody coming up the brook." I asked Nickley, "is it a ranger?" "No", he said, "otter I think." Was I ever relieved to hear him say this.
We got into the canoe and paddled off to wait as the animal came in shot Nickley fired. It dove. As it went down it looked to me like a beaver. I said, "Nickley, that is a beaver." "No", he said it's an otter." He said, "Seems I'm too low on the water. Lets paddle in shot and I'll stand up and try. We got in shot, Nickley stood up. While I remained steady, he fired. This time the shot connected. He straightened the animal out. Nickley made a big laugh as he always did and said, "another otter for our molds."
As it turned over I saw its paw, I was sure then it was a beaver. I said, "Nickley, that is a beaver." Did he ever get mad. He said, "What in hell do you think, I don't know what I'm talking about." I suppose I could not blame him for getting mad, me a mere youngster, arguing with him (an elder) [the expert country man]. I remained silent. We paddled over to the animal and Nickley grabbed it by the leg and pulled it aboard the canoe and made another of his hearty laughs and said, "golly it is a beaver."
On one of these trips in this same period of time Nickley and I were still very active carrying on our usual tradetional activity, trapping and hunting. We had gone down to Hanging Mish [marsh]. I thought he called it Skipper Jims. He had a small wigwam there. All of Nickley's wigwams were just big enough for one man but the both of us managed to live in it. We had lunch and made the wigwam ready, putting down new fir boughs. Nickley said, "now we go look
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for otter." We went down a small lead, a marsh between black spruce and tucks, that led to a small steady. As it was still and very calm, Nickley said, "we sit down here. This is were he will come out." Nickley did not mind waiting till dark but he would often take advantage of anything to shorten our uncomfortable vigil. We had been sitting there motionless for about forty five minutes when I heard the sound of a little splashing in the water. Being young I had good hearing and most times heard things before Nickley did. I could see out through a small opening between the boughs, towards the sound. I did not want to tell Nickley before I knew what was making the sound. In a few seconds I saw it was a blackduck. "Nickley", I whispered, "there's a blackduck feeding... there, in the steady. He did not even stop to think, but just said "give it to him" meaning, shoot it! I fired and straightened the duck out. Nickley jumped up and grabbed the duck and started heading for the wigwam. "Nickley", I said, "what about the otter?" Without breaking stride, he said, "hell with en".[him]
We went on back to the wigwam. Nickley said, "you get hood [ wood ] while I cook supper. I had been cutting wood and bringing it out for about ten minutes when Nickley sang out to me. "Come in, have lunch while supper is cooking. I went in and Nickley had kettle boiled, a little piece of pancake and half an egg on a piece of birch rind. I said, "Nickley, were did you get the egg?" "Took en out of the duck", he said, with another of his hearty laughs. The egg tasted real good [and so did the black duck which was split real thin, all bones removed and cooked quickly in boiled salted water for only fifteen minutes, called in micmac ????]
The next morning we went on down towards Uncle Denny's wigwam. [A place to become known later as camp 7 when the Bowaters woods operation moved in, and still is as Camp Seven]. There while we were waiting for a beaver, an otter came up and he shot it. This is the same otter he cut in two while racing John Benoit.
I went over to where he was, thinking about the good feed of beaver we were going to have that night and found out he had shot an otter instead. I was not disappointed because otter meant money and this was our main purpose at the time. We needed money for ammunition which was hard to get that time. As matter of fact the scarcity of ammunition was the cause of my leaving for overseas and the break up Nickleys and my traditional country life forever. Anyway, Nickley pointed out the otter to me and said, "I shot a bloody big otter." It had drifted across the small steady but it was too wide to get across and there were no trees around only small dry junipers. Nickley told me to go and walk around the steady till I came to a place narrow enough to jump across then walk out on the other side and get the otter. He would go back to camp and cook supper.
Nickley prided himself in his cooking. That was why I had no problem with cooking but this time but this time we were real well off we had flour baking powder and some salt pork, no meat of any kind, our main staple but Nickley was not to be outdone. When I got back to camp Nickley had done it again. He had a birch rind[birch bark] table laid out again. This time it was out by the camp door with two cups of tea poured up and a big pork pudding, cut in two and each on a sheet of birchrind. I was so taken aback that I too this time burst out laughing but Nickley
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laughed louder and said, "boy, I could cook better than Angela Grant, a woman who's husband took him in and sheltered him on one of his many moves and she being a good cook. On another stump close by the camp he had a new sheet of birch bark on which he had blocked in a checker board with fire coals.one of the thousands he had made in his lifetime no doubt. A pile of checkers some round smoe square which he had made out of thick birchrine a name we always used when referring to birchbark. Nickley said after we eat and skin our Otter we have a game of checkers. This was something Nickley and I always did. As a matter of fact whoever went with Nickley had to play checkers with him. I don't know if anyone ever won a game off him I know I never did. The next morning after we had eaten the leftover pudding we left and headed over to Ottawanic. There Nickley said he knew were a otter house was and he's always there. One thing for sure if Nickley said a otter was there, he was nearly always right. We went on over to Ottawanic and continued on down to Noeljeejeg. There was a shack there. Nickley said it was Bill Grants shack. We boiled the kettle and had a little spell, then walked over to Ottawanic, around a mile and a half from the shack, nothing for us in those days. We sat down by the steady for about half an hour when I glanced to the right and saw an otter rolling around on the rock. I tapped Nickley on the shoulder and showed him the otter. "Ok, boy", he said or something to that effect. The otter got off the rock and headed towards us the first dive it made Nickley started to run for the point were he knew the otter was going to swim close by. He sat down and waited for the otter to come up, as on the next dive, he would make it to the point for an easy shot. The otter just broke water, showed his rump and continued on with his dive. I was sure Nickley, being who he was, understood the situation because I knew he was only going to pull himself under the water for a few seconds and pop up right away but apparently this time Nickley was not using his keen hunting senses, because he jumped up and started to run again for the point. As I expected the otter popped up and spotted Nickley tearing off for the point. It reared right out half its length, as is the habit of the otter. Nickley took a quick look amidflight and saw the otter. He seemed to crumple right there worked himself in position to fire but by then the otter was waiting with his head about an inch above water and there was no way any shot or bullet was fast enough to catch him then. It appeared as nickley fired even before the shot was half way to him, he dove like a flash, faster than lightening. I could see the bubbles go into the side of the bank were Nickley said the house was. I said, "what now Nickley?" He used the same words again, "hell with en." Nickle knew then what I found out many years later, that the otter would remain in there three days or more before he ventured out again.
There were some geese honking not too far off. Nickley said they have a nest up there somewhere. We headed on back for the shack then. It was the time he sang the micmac hymns made the otter molds and split our otter in two. After this nearly everything else took place that I have already written about, our next venture would be in a canoe uncle Abe Stride had an old canvas canoe there . we went up river this is where everything I wrote about took place. On leaving the place and everything I have already described we headed down again as we came to the rapids, the river was quite high so we ran the white water rapids in this flimsy old canoe just clung together. Ruben Stride asked me about our trip after. When I mentioned about the canoe. "God", he said, "I was afraid to get aboard it." I said, "I was too, but I had no choice". So we speed down the rapids me with my heart in my mouth because ever since my first trip when I was eight years old I always had a great fear when running the white water rapids I never did let
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it show to my father who gloried in running the rapids but this stayed with me. As Nickley and I sped down the rapids and shot out in the steady there were three otters coming up the other end of the steady. I said, "Nickley we go ashore and wait to get a good shot." Nickley said, "No we go and meet them." I believe yet it was my mouth that always kept him from doing the right things. It seems he never did agree with me even when it made sense. Anyway we paddled on toward them. As we got in shot, he was in the stern he never even said turn the boat, just said, "lower your head so I can get a shot." He said, "as I fire you just load the guns pass them back to me and duck." So I did, and every time he fired the powder blast would blow up my shirt tail and I would feel the wind on my bare back amid the howls of laughter coming from Nickley as the otters used to duck his shot. He kept this up till he had nearly all our shells gone and the otters had disappeared. This was on our way out. Nickley never did hit one of these otters.
We left Noeljeejeg and did not stop till late in the evening we camped somewhere near Big Naps. The next day we got back home.
We did not linger too long home before we headed back in the country again. This time we headed direct to Conne Steady as Nickley said there were always plenty rats there. This time we went the way only Nickley knows because I only went there once and I can't remember the way. All I know he said it was Bill McDonald's path. Anyway on the second day we reached Conne Steady early afternoon. We put up our camp and started to build a raft which we would use for hunting up and down the steady for the duration of our stay. On the first evening we were sitting on the raft waiting for muskrat when a big stag came out by the steady. We waited for it to get aways off from the alders before we fired at it. Nickley said, "it was a moose", which I to this day cannot understand, unless his eyes were bad and he would not let on to it. That probably could explain why I always used to see everything before he did. Anyway we fired couple shots each at the stag before it disappeared in the thick alders. We pushed our raft over on the side where he went in and jumped ashore off the raft. Nickley took off with me chasing behind him. It seemed Nickley was running on the alders without even bending them down. God did he ever go. I had all I could do to keep up with him. He was heading for the open trying to head the stag off. He need not have bothered because the stag just ran in the alders and fell down. That's were we found it when we came back and followed its foot prints. Nickley said, "good feed tonight", and sure enough we did. We took the head back to the camp and Nickley cooked it. I can still remember the maggots swirling around in the nostrels they were attached at one end and as they twist and turn they emmit a creepy sound a maggoty sound this is the reason the caribou keep snorting during the spring time as these maggots get loose he snort them out I dont rightfully know what they are some say they are wasps they are some kind of hornet, Nickley finished before me and went down by the raft. He didn't say what he was going for so I just acted in the usual noisy way I guess because a little while after I had chewed all the meat off the jaw bone I started banging it on the frying pan to knock the marrow out. Nickley shouted out at me saying, "you frightened my muskrat". After a little while he hollered out to me saying come down where he was down by the raft so we could shove the raft up the steady. I didn't know what for because it was nearly dark then. Anyway I went and we started up the steady. We had not gone far before we saw a muskrat sailing across the steady. Nickley started to shoot at it
and every shot he missed at last I said Nickley let me have a shot I fired and straightened out the rat as we were going to pick it up we saw another one sailing across Nickley started to fire again and still he missed. After he had three or four shots, I said, "Nickley, I'm ready again.' He said, "give it to him." I forgot to mention all through this he was laughing like hell I fired and again straightened out the muskrat, and Nickley laughed louder. By the time we had picked up our muskrats it was pitch dark.Nickley a fairly good shot had open sights while I had peep sights real thing for night time because I just had to look through the peep sight and wait for the little white streak of water to come in my sights I could not see the Muskrat either;
We went on back to camp. We could just make out the dying fire which we used to guide us back to our camp not that Nickley needed it, because [Nickley knew exactly where he was at all times and could easily find his way back to camp or back to Conne River from anywhere in the
country in total darkness nor did he mind rambling around in the dark but the fire made it a bit
easier for us to find the camp.
*We trapped all that week up and down the steady with nothing unusual happening the only other
™laugh he got was when a saucy muskrat crawled upon the raft with his mouth wide open and
tried to bite me. As I pushed it off, it came up through the open parts of the raft, its mouth still
feB open. I had to grab the axe and knock its eyes out to protect myself. Nickley thought it was funny
" although I didn't.
AI can remember when we left the steady it was early in the morning a fine day as we crossed the
big marsh about ten o'clock in the morning. It was real good walking we each had a caribou
^lhaunch [hind quarter unjointed at rhe knee] on in our bundles, our blanket and very few personal
£ belongings. We weren't long before we had crossed the big open after we got to Big Naps, we
entered more wooded area so it was better going on the country path. We camped somewhere along the way and the next day we got home early. As we arrived home Gilbert, my brother and
I Stan Benoit was getting ready to go and pack in some supplies for Uncle John Denny Jeddore
who was also on his way to trap and hunt for the remainder of the Spring. He would be gone till June. There was no reason for anyone to hurry back because this was our way of life. The next
1 day Nickley and I went to St Alban's to sell our muskrats and get more supplies to go back in the
country. We went to Matty Wilcott's who had a small store just a little west of Gerald Willcot's
- were some of his people still have one now. We went in and Nickley started to barter our furs.» He spent a long time haggling with Matty but as always we got off with the worst of it. Nickley
wanted 50 cents for each muskrat but he would only give 25 cents. He baited Nickley right into
it. He said "if they were big rats he would give us 50 cents each, but since they were not he could
* only offer 25 cents. Nickley said, "Oh, they are big rats. You can't get any bigger than these."Whereupon Matty put his hand under the counter and pulled out three bloody big muskrats, the
biggest I have ever seen. He must have been keeping those for years for just that purpose
********* this he said is what I call big rats so after knocking the wind out of us we had no
^choice but let our rats go for 25 cents each I believe we had twenty rats which netted us two
idollars and fifty cents each still quite some money in these days the first thing I asked for was
some 22 bullets he said he had none and he doubted if I would get any anywhere in the bay
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anyway he said he had no money to give us we had to take some food for our money, I have to mention about the Lynx I missed before I write further as the Lynx jumped after I fired at it Nickley swore " dame he said there goes sixty dollars" we took this lynx to merchant George Colliers and again Nickley started his Indian ingenuity in bartering with the white man as he put it but again Nickley was no match he got beaten right down he made us an offer for our muskrats. eighteen dollars for our muskrats with two dollars extra for the lynx Nickley had valued sixty dollars Nickley said no way was he going to get our Lynx for two dollars George said o.k. then I will still give you twenty dollars and you keep the Lynx, Nickley was not very pleased with the turn of events because he really gave me a hard time for missing sixty dollars when I fired at the Lynx, this why when we came out the next trip he took our furs to Matty Willcotts. we left Mattey's and I was still wondering where I was going to get some bullets because I was still in a rush to get back in the country while we were walking out towards merchant Bill Colliers[George,s now] there were people going in and out of Bill Collier's house I asked Allen Kendell what was going on he told me we are all going overseas to work in the forestry in Scotland there like a bolt of lightening out of nowhere my whole life changed forever because I went in and signed up for overseas.
Nickleys and my close contact and countryfour tradetional life] would end then and there for ever, no more would I hear the echoes of his voice in the hills across the steady singing micmac hymns or hear his hearty laugh as something went wrong or listen to his heavy breathing as he took a quick nap in the hot sun or watch him sculp an otter or do any of the wonderful things he was good at, the things our micmac race has been doing for thousands of years. Sure I came back and went in the lumber camps. Nickley was there too but so was hundreds of others we did take off just the two of us sometimes after supper to catch a salmon the good feelings came back but only for a short while till we got back to the bunk house shortly after this Nickleys mind started to go from which he never did fully recover. In spite of all the change Nickley and I remained inside this small circle of closeness which true micmac people feel toward each other all through his mental distress when there was only very few people in the world that he trusted I and most of the Jeddores were the ones he clung to I remember one time when he was having a real bad attack of mental distress he came to me and said some was on the verge of shooting him and would I come down to his house with him I did he put a couple of locks on the door and a long spruce stick across the house up against the door and the wall the way Nickley used to look at me it was embarrassing for him a man to act this way but whatever ailed him was too strong too overpowering he just had to black out all the other urges and try in a desperate effort to defend himself it was pitiful to see Nickley who was so strong both mentally and physically so independent one who could take off in the country all alone for weeks or months if need be and not ask anyone for anything but would give his heart to anyone in need to see him acting like this would break your heart. This night I went down with him he wanted me to stay with him but I could not while we were there the spruce wood he had under the stove would rent now and again with the small metallic sound as drying wood would often do Nickley would say there you hear him dodging his gun it sounded funny to anyone but Nickley was dead serious it was a matter of life and death he said he would go up to my house with me I hesitated because Pauline my wife feared for the children his niece Vida told her she was afraid also because he would always stay
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by the children and most times keep one up in his arms and I at the time was sort of thinking on the same thing. How very wrong how very stupid and cruel to think such awful things about poor old Nickley, Nickley who would give his heart and soul to anyone was trying in a desperate effort to protect himself he knew that if he kept close to the children and if he could take one up it would be better because he still had reason enough to believe that nobody would shoot a little child I only learned this when I told him to lie down on the couch for the night he said if it was alright with us he would rather go up the loft where the children was because nobody would shoot up there were the children was. It hit me like a bolt of lightening this was the answer to why he always wanted to be close to the children or take one up. Nickley stayed with us for a while he never slept at all that night at around 4 pm that morning he called us and told us that some one had a fire in up on south west brook burning his coffin this was the early morning fog rising I knew what it was when he asked me to look but I didn't know how to answer him. We got up then and tried to get something to eat all of us got up because none of us got very much sleep that night as it came daylight he was looking through the window to see if there was anyone lying in wait along the bushes to shoot him when he went out. I did not know how to talk to him because I knew he was on the edge of something beyond our control. I was afraid pretty soon he was going to become angry and in desperation try to strike back and only God knows what would happen then in a blind effort to help I said Nickley this will hurt you you could lose your mind if you keep on thinking like this he answered me this is enough to make anyone lose their mind with someone after you all the time I said Nickley nobody's trying to hurt you but he just ignored me and said to Pauline what would you done this morning if you had got up and seen the blood streaming all down your wall were some one had shot me through the wall. Later on in the day I had some work to do Nickley left. I heard nothing more from him till late this midnight we had gone to bed early since losing so much sleep last night we heard a commotion over at Vida's and Paul Stride's house. I did not bother but Pauline opened the window and listened. There was someone calling out she called me and said Nick I believe someone's calling your name and I believe it is Nickley. I listened and sure enough I just could make out someone repeating my name. I didn't know what I could do. It seemed hopeless anyway I went over some people was there they told me Nickley was up stairs and wanted me nobody seemed much concerned like nothing was happening. I went up stairs and what met my eyes could tear you right in two. Poor old Nickley was running around the chimney nearly exhausted sweat running down his face he was running in a desperate effort to save his life he knew if he kept running he would be a harder target to strike when in his mind they started shooting. I just said Nickley as he recognized my voice he just crumpled with his last remaining strength he came over and came down stairs and said I have a path worn down knee deep in the loft around Pauls chemney trying to get away from you fellows he said now shoot me if you like I have a witness to see that you hang for it and with that he fell back in sleep completely exhausted. He slept for hours by the time he awoke they had arrived to take him off somewhere. You can judge the way Nickley felt towards me right then he was putting his life in my hands.
Today Nicholas Jeddore died. I wonder how many realize the significance of this sad event. Nickley, the last of the real aboriginal Micmacs of Conne.
Nickley spoke the Micmac language, a direct link in the chain of unbroken Micmac language from the beginning of the Micmac Nation; from thousands and thousands of years back. A language that echoes back from time immemorial, a word I never use, only in such case as this. To me it was like something irreversible. As Nickley breathed his last breath there appeared a chasm in time that could never be bridged. It was so final that I felt engulfed by a great desolation and emptiness. I had dreaded it all along. When it happened it was shattering, which could only be felt by someone who could fathom the dept and understand the meaning of this final passing. You can do what you like, spend millions and millions of dollars but this connection is broken forever. It tore at me as something I did not want to let go of. The day Nickley died I was panic stricken as I became engulfed by the realization of what the few of us Micmac people had lost. Nickley, the strong and solid link of the Micmac people welded by culture, custom and language to our ancestors, has left just a scattering of weaker links which will soon sink into oblivion.
My memories of Nickley are many. As a young fellow 16 years old I trudged hundreds of miles behind Nickley over barrens bogland and marshes, up and down rivers in canoe and on foot and on rafts, lying in a canvas tent or shack, watching the open fire, watching the stars, listening to the night owl as it hooted all through the night. I can still hear his voice echoing in the hills across the steady as the sun was setting and he sang Micmac hymns while chopping on a piece of wood, making molds for the otter we had shot earlier. Today I can still hear his hearty laugh as he split our otter in two while showing off to me how he could sculp an otter; saying, "I can race John Benoit sculping an otter anytime," then spending half the night whistling under his breath, carefully trying to sew our otter together.
In spite of the few times Nickley lost his temper, he was good to me and very patient with someone so awkward, compared to himself, for he knew I too was fighting for survival. In spite of what I have come to believe, now was a fight for survival. Nickley was always happy. Strange as it may seem, it is only now that I class the life then as a fight for survival because then it was the normal Indian way of life.
My personal memories of Nickley are all fond memories even when we had hard times I will never forget the times we spent together in the country or at home in Conne River. As I close my eyes I can recall memories of us drifting down the steady on a raft in late spring evenings while muskrat hunting or lying on the barrens in the fall waiting for geese to fly over hear his happy laugh as a goose started to fall after he fired at it it fell in a small water or pond on the barrens its wing was broken. Nickley told me to fire at it, I did and flattened out on the water Nickley reached out and pulled it ashore we headed down the barren ground slope towards camp we had ojir Dipper (T recall the many times we sat by the steady motionless for hours waiting for a otter or a beaver to come out. On one of these evenings he shot the otter while setting in wait for a beaver by the beaver house. This is the otter I recall his voice echoing across the steady in the hills while I sat by the campfire frying pancakes while he was making otter moulds and singing micmac hymns when he cut our otter down the middle showing me how fast he could sculp an
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otter racing John Benoit. I can recall his displeasure when we saw a lynx on the side of the steady and I fired at it with a load of shot and missed. He started shouting sixty dollars gone. I recall how he got out of the canoe, tramped up the river bank, threw of his gun and fired tramped it the tucks and brought out the lynx and burst out laughing. I said to Nickley while believing in my own mind at I had shot the lynx Nickley what was the lynx doing He said he was sitting down looking out that way pointing with
his hand toward the sitting sun. I recall the time Nickley and myself went up Conne Brook to try for a salmon contrary to our what discriminated brand we had nothing but rod reel and some of Nickleys moose hair flys this was in 1938 father and Nickley were the first ever to invent the moose hair flys. Some vokey man publicly took credit in 1964 and got away with it. Will this time we did not get any salmon though Nickley said he did see one twist on the side a strong habit of the salmon when he's annoyed. Well we got up next morning and headed over the hill on the south side of Conne Brook to look for some money as Nickley put it. As we travelled down the other side of the slope through thick tall timber we broke out in the middle of south east pond. We boiled kettle there after we had eaten and were getting ready to move on. I knew he had it in mind to go around the eastern end of south pond I also knew it was very thick with alders and tucks very hard going while on the west end there was some open ground with barren ground on the other side much easier walking feeling a little tired being only young not as tough as Nickley thinking I might sway him into going around the west end. I said Nickley it is better walking this way pointing my hand to the west end no he said no money that way we go this way pointing his hand to the east end so this way we went his way. We went on up the other side to a place called fox house ridge by the ridge there were couple small ponds real nice place for muskrats Nickley knew very well were we were going when we left conne brook by the way I forgot to mention this was what Nickley meant when he said we go look for some money he meant go hunt some muskrats knowing and understanding Nickley so well I often forget some small things which is very important in explaining the ways of a micmac. Anyway nickley left and went out after we had put up came went out to see if there were any muskrats in the pond shortly after he left I could hear some shots just before sunset a little later I could hear him coming in through the little path that lead in to our camp he was as he often did when he was happy which mostly he was, whistling under his breath I will always remember and recall the uncontrollable quiver of his chin and jaw hear his shriek as he realized he had brought back to camp a live muskrat folded over his neck one he thought he had killed but only stunned he had gone out to look at the small pond to see if there were any muskrat there after some minutes I heard couple shots some minutes Nickley came back as always when he got something he was right jolly I was setting in camp with the kettle boiled when he came in and threw down two muskrats I was looking at them when it seemed one was looking straight at me his eyes was right bright and lifelike I said Nickley one of your muskrats is still alive he said go on how could he be alive with bullet through his head he came in and took his gun and poked it in the face when he withdrew his gun the muskrat was hanging on the stock with his teeth clamped on the stock Nickley made a big screech and said God he could have chewed my neck off. I recall him setting on the bank one time for hours twisting and turning a trout hook he had driven into his finger trying to get it out and hear his joyful laugh when he had succeeded in removing it. I recall the nights we lay in the open air near the tent watching the stars the times we lay in the tent
watching the flankers as the streaked skywards like fine wire it was on one such occasion Nickley and I was lying in the tent in long pond before it was flooded we were watching the flankers streaking up when a little gust of wind took them and blew them all in the woods. Nickley said there all hands jumped into the woods. Nickley was a good man deeply religious had great respect for the priests and bishops like all true micmac people did he respected his fellow men also, though Nickley could stand the bitter cold he also loved extreme heat. I remember one spring in may we were going ratting the term we used for muskrat hunting we left early in the morning heading for Conne steady we were in no hurry as Indians are never in a rush they enjoy the country life too much to tear and fuss around it took us to around two o'clock in the evening to reach rockey brook Nickley said we have lunch here we boiled the kettle and had lunch after we had finished we sat back for a little rest the sun was real hot so hot in fact I had to move back from the fire Nickley gathered up some rind that came off the pulp wood because they had handshaved pulpwood there a year before this he packed into the fire Nickley lay back real close to the fire and said this is what I like he fell into a deep sleep I sat by and waited the sun was hot but I kept a little fire going I was afraid to wake him so I just waited we had planned to go on in towards black duck pond to see if there was any sign of muskrat so I waited and waited finally Nickley woke up near sundown I said Nickley what we going to do he let out a big laugh and said we camp here. Nickley used to go to St. Albans often in these times to when we lived out Burnt Woods as the sun came up in the morning I would look down towards Conne there would be someone coming off on the ice at partridge point as he got closer I could see he was wearing snowshoes not only that but he would walk two steps and then run aways I would know right away it was Nickley because nobody else moved this way. I remember the time Gilbert and was hungry we went to Nickleys he had no food and he had already eaten the few trout he had boiled but he had not yet thrown out the broth so he gave this to Gilbert and myself not because he would not drink it himself but since he had already eaten it would have gone sour after awhile we thought the trout broth was wonderful it really was on our empty stomachs there was the time up at Noeljjeg Nickley and Ruben Stride came out the junipers late in august there were two big fat stags stood up a most welcome sight after miles of travel in the hot sun he told Ruben to give to him Ruben fired at the stag and missed Nickley grumbled grabbed his gun threw it to his shoulder and fired at the stag point blank no realizing he had also missed he stuck his gun up by a jumper looked at the stag and shouted there take that and carry it off the stag did because he kept running across the big open for miles till he went out of sight there was nothing to eat this evening again. Another time Nickley and myself were muskrat hunting in Noeljjeg steady. This was in 1932 or 34 one evening as we sat waiting in the canoe as was the custom or what ever a muskrat came up right face on to me as I was setting in the head of the canoe I had the advantage of shooting. Nickley said give it to him. I recall what my dad told me many times, do not fire at a muskrat when he is facing you because you wont hurt him, the shot will only slide back on his smooth face hard as this to understand this is a fact. Remembering this I said to Nickley I wont hurt him face on hell he said give it to him I fired the muskrat went down damn he said you missed him he said just turn the boat a little let me show someone who don't miss we waited for some ten minutes but the muskrat did not come up Nickley said he knew better than to come up because he would be dead. Early the next evening around three o'clock it was nice and warm while I was boiling the kettle Nickley went out by the steady we had our camp just a
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ways in from the steady we had to walk about fifteen feet to the steady anyway while Nickley was out there just before I had the kettle boiled I heard him fire ildropped the kettle and ran out where nickley was he was sitting by the steady still holding his gun with a little smoke twirling from the mussle Nickley I asked what you fired at muskrat he said were is he I said off there he said the water was calm as oil but there was nothing on the water Nickley I said I cant see it anywhere he sunk Nickley said Nickley I said you know muskrat don't sink he got to sing when he's full of lead Nickley answered sort of annoyed at my questioning him I did not say anything but jumped into the canoe and paddled off Nickley I said were to he said right there were you looking I said I cant see anything he said what's wrong with your eyes cant you see him there on the bottom but I saw nothing Nickley had missed again but would never in a thousand years would he admit it. The next evening we walked up the slope a real pretty place barrens all the way to the top of the hill we walked up to the top just outside of John martins lookout as we sat there we heard some geese honking they were coming straight for us Nickley put a shell in his gun and waited as they flew over nickley fired as one started to fall Nickley made a big happy laugh it fell in a small pond on the barren ground its wing was broken Nickley said you take a shot at it I did and straightened it out good Nickley said as he went and pulled it ashore we went back down the hill to our came Nickley picked the goose and put it on for supper after we had lunch it was around four o'clock in the evening I was feeling a bit tired I lay back Nickley lay back also I soon fell asleep but Nickley didn't I suppose he was still thinking about the muskrat he had sunk he went out and sat by the steady. Later on I awoke with a start Nickley was pulling on my leg he had dragged me halfway out the camp opening he was right excited saying somebody coming up the brook somebody coming up the brook I being a micmac could communicate with the micmac people knew their mind but as it happened was shaken out of sleep my mind was sort of confused in these times we had rangers roaming around though we never saw on back in the country this was the first thing came to my mind when he said somebody coming up the brook I asked Nickley is it a ranger no he said otter I think was I ever relived to hear him say this. We got into the canoe and paddled off to wait as the animal came in shot Nickley fired it dove as it went down it looked to me like a beaver I said Nickley that is a beaver no he said its a otter he said seems I,m too low on the water he said lets paddle in shot and I'll stand up and try we got in shot Nickley stood up while I remained steady he fired this time the shot connected he straightened the animal out nickley made a big laugh as he always did and said another otter for our molds as it turned over I saw its foot I was sure then it was a beaver I said Nickley that is a beaver boy did he ever get mad he said what in hell do you think I don't know what I'm talking about. I suppose I could not blame him for getting mad me a mere youngster arguing with him the expert country man I remained silent we paddled over to the thing Nickley grabbed it by the leg and pulled it aboard the canoe and made another of his hearty laughs and said golly it is a beaver. A beaver it was.
On one of these trips in this same period of time Nickley and me were still very active carrying out our micmac tradition trapping and hunting the only way we knew we had gone down to hanging marsh I thought he called it skipper jims any he had a small shack there as all of nickleys shacks one man shacks but the both of us managed to live in it we had lunch and made the shack ready put down new fir boughs Nickley said now we go look for otter we went down a
small lead a marsh between black spruce and tucks that lead to a small steady as it was still and calm Nickley said we sit down here this is were he will come out. Nickley did not mind waiting till dark but he would often take advantage of any to shorten our uncomfortable vigil. We had been sitting there motionless for about forty five minutes when I heard the sound of a little splashing in the water. Being young I had good hearing and most times heard things before Nickley did. I could see out through a small opening towards the sound. I did not want to tell Nickley before I knew what was making the sound. In a few seconds I saw it was a blackduck. Nickley I said there's a blackduck feeding there in the steady. He did not even stop to think but just said give it to him, meaning shoot it. I fired and straightened the duck out. Nickley jumped up and grabbed the duck and started heading for the shack. Nickley I said what about the otter. Without breaking stride he said hell with en. We went on back to the shack. Nickley said you get hood while I cook supper. I had been cutting wood and bringing it out for about ten minutes when Nickley sang out to me come in have lunch while supper is cooking. I went in and Nickley had kettle boiled, a little piece of pancake and half an egg on a piece of birch rind. I said Nickley were did you get the egg took en out of the duck. He said with another of his hearty laughs the egg tasted real good. The next morning we went on down towards uncle Denny's tent later to become known and is still camp seven. There while was waiting for a beaver a otter came up and he shot it. This is the same otter he cut in two while racing John Benoit. I went over to where he was thinking about the good feed beaver we were going to have that night and found out he had shot an otter instead. I was not disappointed because otter meant money and this was our main purpose at the time. We needed money for ammunition which was hard to get that time. As matter of fact the scarcity of ammunition was the cause of my leaving for overseas and the break up Nickley's and my traditional country life forever. Anyway Nickley pointed out the otter to mev said I shot a bloody big otter it had drifted across the small steady too wide to get across with no trees around only small dry junipers. Nickley told me to go and walk around the steady till I came to a place narrow enough to jump across walk out on the other side and get the otter he would go back to camp and cook supper again. Nickley prided himself in his cooking that was why I had no problem with cooking but this time I could see nothing he could cook because we had nothing but a little flour, baking powder and some salt pork no meat of any kind our main staple but Nickley was not to be outdone. When li got back to camp Nickley had done it again. He had a birch rind table cloth again this time out by the camp door two cups of tea poured up and a big pork punning cut in two on a sheet of birchrind. I was so taken aback that I too this time burst out laughing but Nickley laughed louder and said boy I could cook better than Angela Grant. A woman whose husband took him in and sheltered him on one of his many moves and was prided in her cooking.
the next morning after we had eaten the pudding we left and headed over to Ottwanic there Nickley said he knew were a otter house was and he's always there one thing for sure if Nickley said a otter was there he was nearly always right. We went on over to ottwanic and continued on down to Noeljjeg there was a shack there Nickley said it was Bill Grants shack. We boiled the kettle and had a little spell then walked over to ottwanic around a mile and a half from the shack nothing for us in those days we sat down by the steady for about half an hour when I glanced to the right and saw an otter rolling around on the rock I tapped Nickley on the shoulder and told Nickley ok boy he said or something to that effect the otter got off the rock and headed towards
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us. The first dive it made Nickley started to run for the point were he knew the otter was going to swim close by he sat down and waited for the otter to come up so as on the next dive he would make it to the point for an easy shot. The otter just broke water showed his rump and continued on with his dive. I was sure Nickley being who he was understood the situation because I knew he was only going to pull himself under the water for a few seconds and pop up right away but apparently this time Nickley was not using his keen hunting senses because he jumped up and started to run again for the point as I expected the otter popped up and spotted Nickley tearing off for the point it reared right uo half its length as is the habit of the otter Nickley took a quick look amidflight and saw the otter he seemed to crumple right there worked himself in position to fire but by then the otter was waiting with his head about an inch above water and there was no way any shot or bullet was fast enough to catch him then as Nickley fired before the shot was halfway to him he dove like a flash faster than lightening I could see the bubbles go into the side of the bank were Nickley said the house was I said what now Nickley he used the same words again hell with en Nickley knew then what I found out many years later that the otter would remain in there three days or more before he ventured out again there was some geese honking not too far off Nickley said they have a nest up there somewhere. We headed on back for the shack then it was he sang the micmac hymns made the otter molds and split our otter in two. After this nearly everything else took place that I have already written about. On leaving the place and everything I have already described we headed down again as we came to the rapids the river was quite high so we ran the white water rapids in this flimsy old canoe just clung together Ruben Stride asked me about it after when I mentioned about the canoe God he said I was afraid to get aboard it I said I was too but I had no choice so we speed down the rapids me with my heart in my mouth because ever since my first trip when I was eight years old I always had a great fear when running the with water rapids I never did let it show to my father who gloried in running the rapids but this stayed with me. As Nickley and I speed down the rapids when we shot out in the steady there was three otters coming up the other end of the steady I said Nickley we go ashore and wait to get a good shot Nickley said no we go and meet them I believe yet it was my mouth that always kept him from doing the right things seems he never did agree with me even when it made sense. Anyway we paddled on toward them a we got in shot he was in the stern he never even said turn the boat just said lower your head so I can get a shot he said as I fire you just load the guns pass them back to me and duck so I did and every time he fired the powder blast would blow up my shirt tail and I would feel the wind on my bear back amid the howls of laughter coming from nickley as the otters used to duck his shot he kept this up till he had nearly all our shells gone and the otters had disappeared this was on our way out. He never did one of these otters.
We left Noeljjeg and did not stop till late in the evening we camped somewhere near big naps the next day we got back home. We did not linger too long home before we headed back in the country again this time we headed direct to conne steady as Nickley said there were always plenty rats there this time we went the way only Nickley knows because I only went there once and I can't remember the way all I know he said it was bill Mcdonald's path anyway on the second day we reached conne steady early afternoon we put up our camp and started to build a raft which we would use for hunting up and down the steady for the duration of our stay on the
first evening we were sitting on the raft waiting for muskrat when a big stag came out by the steady we waited for it to get aways off from the alders before we fired at it Nickley said it was a moose which I to this day cannot understand unless his eyes was bad and he would not let on it probably could explain I always used to see everything before he did anyway we fired couple shots each at the stag before it disappeared in the thick alders we pushed our raft over on the side where he went in and jumped off the raft Nickley took off and me chasing him it seemed Nickley was running on the alders without even bending them down god did he ever go I had all I could do to keep up with him he was heading for the open trying to head the stag off he needn't have bothered because the stag just ran in the alders and fell down that's were we found it when we came back and followed it footing Nickley said good feed tonight and sure enough we did we took some back to the camp and Nickley cooked it Nickley finished before me and went down by the raft he didn't say what he was going for so I just acted in the usual noisy way I guess because after a little while after I had chewed all the meat off the bone I started banging it on the frying pan to knock the marrow out Nickley reared out at me saying you frightened my muskrat. After a little while he hollered out to me saying come down where he was down by the raft so we could shove the raft up the steady I didn't know what for because it was nearly dark then anyway I went and we started up the steady we had not gone far before we saw a muskrat sailing across the steady Nickley started to shoot at it and every shot he missed at last I said Nickley let me have a shot I fired and straightened out the rat as we were going to pick it up we saw another one sailing across Nickley started to fire again and still he missed after he had three or four shots I said Nickley I,m ready again he said give it to him I forgot to mention all through this he was laughing like hell I fired and again straightened out the muskrat Nickley laughed louder by the time we had picked up our muskrats it was pitch dark Nickley a fairly good shot had open sightd while I had peep sights nor could I see the Muskrat but I watched for the wake I sighted just ahead of this and fired made me an expert marksman but Nickley would not admit it, we went on back to came we could just make out the dying fire which we used to guide us back to our camp not that Nickley needed it because he didn't mind rambling around in the dark looking for the camp but the fire made it a bit easier for us to find the camp we trapped all that week up and down the steady with nothing unusual happening the only other laugh he got was when a saucy muskrat crawled upon the raft with his mouth wide open and tried to bite me as I used to push it off it used to come up through the open parts of the raft its mouth still open I had to grab the axe and knock its eyes out to protect myself Nickley thought it was funny though I didn't. I can remember when we left the steady it was early in the morning a fine day as we crossed the big marsh about ten o'clock in the morning it was real good walking we each had a caribou haunch on in our bundles our blanket and very few personal belongings we weren't long before we had crossed the big open after we got to bignaps we entered more wooded area so it was better going on the country path we camped somewhere along the way so the next day we got home early as we got home gilbert my brother and Stan Benoit was getting ready to go and pack in some supplies for uncle John Denny Jeddore who was on his way also to trap and hunt for the remainder of the spring he would be gone till June there was no reason for anyone to hurry back because this was our way of life the next day Nickley and I went to St. Albans to sell our muskrats and get more supplies to go back in the country we went to Matty Wilcott's who had a small store just a little west of Gerald Willcott's were some of his people still have one now we
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went in and Nickley started to barter our furs he spent a long time haggling with Matty but as always we got off with the worst of it. Nickley wanted 50 cents for each muskrat but he would only give 25 cents he baited Nickley right into it he said if they were big rats he would give us 50 cents each but since they were not he could only offer 25 cots Nickley said o they are big rats you cant get any bigger then these whereupon he put his hand under the counter and pulled out three bloody big muskrats the biggest I have ever seen which he must have been keeping there for years for just that purpose this he said is what I call big rats so after knocking the wind out of us we had no choice but let our rats go for 25 cts each I believe we had twenty rats which netted us two dollars and fifty cots each still quite some money in these days the first thing I asked for was some 22 bullets he said he had none and he doubted if I would get any anywhere in the bay anyway he said he had no money to give us we had to take some food for our money we left Matteys and I was still wondering where I was going to get some bullets because I was still in a rush to get back in the country while we were walking out towards merchant bill colliers there were people going in and out of bill colliers house I asked Allen Kendell what was going on he told me we are all going overseas to work in the forestry in Scotland there like a bolt of lightening out of nowhere my whole life changed forever because I went in and signed up for overseas.
Nickleys and my close contact and country life would end then and there for ever nomore would I hear the echoes of his voice in the hills across the steady singing micmac hymns or hear his hearty laugh as something went wrong or listen to his heavy breathing as he took a quick nap in the hot sun or watch him sculp an otter or do any of the wonderful things he was good at the things our micmac race has been doing for thousands of years. Sure I came back and went in the lumber camps nickley was there too but so was hundreds of others we did take off just the two of us sometimes after supper to catch a salmon the good feelings came back but only for a short while till we got back to the bunk house shortly after this Nickleys mind started to go from which he never did fully recover. In spite of all the change Nickley and remained inside this small circle of closeness which true micmac people feel toward each other all through his mental distress when there was only very few people in the world that he trusted I and most of the Jeddores were the ones he clung to I remember one time when he was having a real bad attack of mental distress he came to me and said some was on the verge of shooting him and would I come down to his house with him I did he put a couple of locks on the door and a long spruce stick across the house up against the door and the wall the way Nickley used to look at me it was embarrassing for him a man to act this way but whatever ailed him was too strong too overpowering he just had to black out all the other urges and try in a desperate effort to defend himself it was pitiful to see Nickley who was so strong both mentally and physically so independent one who could take off in the country all alone for weeks or months if need be and not ask anyone for anything but would give his heart to anyone in need to see him acting like this would break your heart. This night I went down with him he wanted me to stay with him but I could not while we were there the spruce wood he had under the stove would rent now and again with the small metallic sound as drying wood would often do Nickley would say there you hear him dodging his gunit sounded funny to anyone but nickley was dead serious it was a matter of life and death he said he would go up to my house with me I hesitated because Pauline my wife
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feared for the children his niece Vida told her she was afraid also because he would always stay by the children and most times keep one up in his arms and I at the time was sort of thinking on the same thing. How very wrong how very stupid and cruel to thing such awful things about poor old Nickley who would give his heart and soul to anyone was trying in a desperate effort to protect himself he knew that if he kept close to the children and if he could take one up it would be better because he still had reason enough to believe that nobody would shoot a little child I only learned this when I told him to lie down on the couch for the night he said if it was alright with us he would rather go up the loft were the children was because nobody would shoot up there were the children was. It hit me like a bolt of lightening this was the answer to why he always wanted to be close to the children or take one up. Nickley stayed with us for a while he never slept at all that night at around 4 pm that morning he called us and told us that some one had a fire in up on south west brook burning his coffin this the early morning fog rising I knew what it was when he asked me to look but I didn't know how to answer him we got up then and tried to get something to eat all of us got up because none of us got very much sleep that night as it came daylight he was looking through the window to see if there was anyone lying in wait along the bushes to shoot him when he went out. I did not know how to talk to him because I knew he was on the edge of something beyond our control I was afraid pretty soon he was going to become angry and in desperation try to strike back and only god knows what would happen then in a blind effort to help I said Nickley this will hurt you you could loose your mind if you keep on thinking like this he answered me this is enough to make anyone lose their mind with someone after you all the time I said Nickley nobody's trying to hurt you but he just ignored me and said to Pauline what would you done this morning if you had got up and seen the blood streaming all down your wall were some one had shot me through the wall. Later on in the day I had some work to do Nickley left. I heard nothing more from him till late this midnight we had gone to bed early since loosing so much sleep last night we heard a commotion over at Vida's and Paul Strides house I did not bother but Pauline opened the window and listened there was someone calling out she called me and said Nick I believe someone's calling your name and I believe it Nickley I listened and sure enough I just could make out someone repeating my name i didn't know what I could do it seemed hopeless anyway I went over some people was there they told me Nickley was up stairs and wanted me nobody seemed much concerned like nothing was happening I went up stairs and what meet my