When Ken died in February, we had an outpouring of messages from readers, with many telling us how much his columns meant to them. In light of that, we thought we would go back through our files and re-publish some of his columns. Ken would be flattered by the kind words readers expressed. We miss him as a friend and as a storyteller.

—

I enjoy these programs because there was a time in my life when this was my reality.

I feel so fortunate to have grown up on a trap line. I believe my creativity started early in life simply because I had no obstacles or distractions limiting my imagination.

As an eight-year-old boy, the only friends I had were my dog, the flying squirrels and the shadows that shapeshifted before my eyes.

My parents and I stayed on the trap line all year round. I didn’t know of an outside world.

The summers were my favourite and most memorable times. Our main cabin was by a lake which meant my dog and I would go swimming. I had hooks and a long fishing line which I would attach to three poles. I let the hooks hang in the water, hoping to catch a fish.

I had no fishing rod, so I had to pull a Tom Sawyer and bury my poles into the ground, weighed down by rocks. While the hooks were doing their job, I would chase flying squirrels.

I had a slingshot I would fire toward a tree where I saw flying squirrels. The squirrels didn’t actually fly, but glided from tree to tree.

They had these wing-type flaps and they would spread their wings like they had a cape. How incredible would it be to do that, I would think to myself. I would run back to my fishing lines to see if any of the poles had moved. lf the poles hadn’t. I would play hide and seek with the shadows.

Since I had no outside influences, there were no monsters, zombies or even, werewolves. We had no werewolves but we had real wolves.

In our secondary camps, I would hear the wolves howling. Sometimes they would get close to the camp and our dogs were always ready for a battle. But as long as there was a huge fire burning, the wolf pack would stay away.

One winter, probably the harshest winter we had, my dad and I got caught between the main cabin and an overnight camp. The winds were blowing so hard my dad had a hard time trying to build a lean-to with evergreen branches.

Somehow, with a little help from me, we managed to build a shelter. There was a fire in the middle and branches on the ground covered with tarps and blankets. I had a great sleep.

Once we saw an elk on an icecovered lake. The elk was on its side with blood all around it. As we got closer, the elk started to move. We watched as the elk seemed to be gliding on top of the ice. It took a few minutes. but my dad finally saw a wolverine dragging the animal closer to the shore.

The wolverine was underneath the elk and literally carrying the elk on its back. ln the Cree language we call a wolverine ma-he-kun, which basically means superior or alpha. This is not superiour in a good way and alpha in a very evil way. A wolverine is an animal for which I have the highest respect.

I slowly walked back to the fishing poles I had set up. As I got closer, I noticed one of my poles was missing. I quickly glanced around and thought I must have caught a fish and it pulled my pole along.

Then I looked under some brush and noticed my pole. I tugged and realized it was caught on something. I started to pull on the line and there was a huge whitefish attached to the line.

Quickly. I pulled the fish in and look it home. My mom and dad couldn’t believe the size of the fish. That night we had an awesome meal with the fish being the main course. It felt good to be a provider my first time.

Throughout the years I would visit other trappers, sometimes staying up to a week. I thought maybe one day I could retire on a trap line, but with few modern conveniences. In the meantime, I will switch on the Discovery Channel.

-Ken Noskye