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The first rifle I ever owned was a single shot .22 made by the now defunct Cooey Machine and Arms Co. out of Coburg, Ontario. In 1961, the company was purchased by Winchester and the production of these weapons ended. My first one had the stock sawed off to fit against my then 10 year old shoulder and I estimate I put a thousand rounds through it over those younger years and became deadly accurate with those open, iron sights.

Over the years that one disappeared to who knows where but I've been lucky enough to acquire another one. She can put a bullet through a deer skull at 65 yards or gently take the eyes out of a bird perched on a power line. She may be old and a little pitted here and there but she still be beautiful.

With apologies to Hank Williams JR. fans everywhere (minus the ones who suck) say hello to my new rig. A 1999 four wheel drive Jimmy fully loaded and she has a V8. Plus of course, she looks good with the canoe (the bitch).

I had a few hard earned dollars coming to me in bulk and I figured that before I spent it all on my debts I had better get something for myself that I truly needed as I don't have any income coming in anymore outside of disability. My career in engineering looks to be pretty much over and sadly I'm looking at almost ten years of hundred hour weeks gone to shit.

I slept fitfully over a number of alternatives of what I could do, what I am good at and what I like.

I have a fourth year carpenter apprenticeship which I could turn into a journeyman's in a couple of days but outside of cabinet making and finishing work, because of my stroke I no longer have the strength I need in my left-hand side.

Thankfully God blessed me with some weird sort of talent as I am really good at hunting things down and killing them.

The army won't take me for obvious reasons so that leaves everything else. Narrowing that down leaves me with trapping and predator hunting. Hence the wheels.

I have two opportunities set up, a registered trapline in Manitoba and one here in Alberta and I will be spending my time in between the two over this coming winter. I'm not sure how I will do as it has been a long time but I'm gearing up for it and will give it my best.

You can expect me to write about it I suppose heh heh.

As an aside, if anyone is interested in a magnetic stick-on like I have just get a hold of me.

The marker above is located in Churchill, Manitoba and is all that exists of the tent village that housed the Sayisi Dene band who were uprooted from their traditional lands by the Manitoba government and were forced to live on the outskirts of Churchill. I don't pay a lot of mind to First Nations but this story is truly sad and I grew up with and knew a number of members of this band.

Canadian author Farley Mowat wrote extensively about the Dene people in northern Manitoba, most notably in his book People of the Deer. His life among the people over two years also spawned his more famous book, Never Cry Wolf. In People of the Deer he covered the day to day struggles faced by the band such as famine, disease and the decline in caribou populations. This was back in the 50's before the town I grew up in even existed and he also covered the aftermath of the forced relocation of the band.

From yesterday's Globe and Mail:

The Manitoba government has apologized for its part in uprooting members of a Dene band from their homeland and relocating them to a community where they were unable to pursue their traditional lifestyle.

“This is an important step on the path to reconciliation and healing,” Chief Jimmy Thorassie said Tuesday. “We have a responsibility to work together to build the future we want for our children despite a legacy of hurt born of past government mistakes.”

For generations the Duck Lake, or Sayisi, Dene lived in north-central Manitoba, where they hunted the abundant caribou of the Qamanirjuaq herd.

But government biologists after the Second World War decided that the herd was in decline and that traditional hunting was part of the reason.

As well, the federal Department of Indian Affairs was eager to have bands living in places where they were easier to administer, anthropologist Virginia Petch said.

Although the Sayisi had signed Treaty 5 in 1910, they had still not been granted a reserve, so in 1956, Ottawa decided the Sayisi would be relocated.

The original destination was the North Knife River, northwest of Churchill, Man., and not far from the band's original territory. But housing materials for the band were washed away in a flood and the entire group — between 50 and 100 people — was taken to Churchill on Hudson Bay instead.

“They had to leave their dogs and equipment,” Ms. Petch said. “They were just lifted with the clothes on their back into Churchill.”

For years, they lived in a collection of shacks along the shores of the bay. Indian agents rationed the rifle shells the men could use for hunting and issued them traps that were the wrong size for local game.

Alcoholism and poverty set in. In one generation, about a third of the Sayisi died out.

“They were forgotten about,” Ms. Petch. “People struggled.”

And then it was found later that the people had nothing to do with the decline in caribou herds. Today the band lives at Tadoule Lake and boasts a population of 360 people.

The government of Manitoba is also offering the band 13,000 acres as compensation for it's wrongs so long ago but in my opinion there is nothing they could do to correct this as the people have long been destroyed. First by the relocation and then by government welfare and modern lifestyles. There is no correcting history, but the story is a good one and at the very least you can learn from it.