The year I went to go in the country in the winter, the trees opened their limbs and welcomed me. In the wilderness I was home. I called the wilderness Mother Wild.

Isolated by the rest of the world, I had to have somewhere to go. How many times I would sit in the nighttime and think, and there are still times it fills my eyes.

I would go by the river. I fished for salmon and I'd sit by the river. What was it like before the white man? I liked to think about the Beothucks.

There was a crowd in Corner Brook, like me in those days, when there was no hunting licence. We'd take a moose or two and we wouldn't waste anything.

If we went to the river and the river was full of salmon, we took one or two, whatever we ate ourselves. We didn't waste. We were our own conservationists.

Now my wilderness home is gone. I long for the trees and the days I was alone.

I witnessed prejudice all my life, because I'm Indian.