The Story

Maybe you’ve already read my story about Passamaquoddy elver conservation in the October issue of Down East Magazine. If you haven’t, you can read it here. If you’re tired of reading about elvers (baby eels), I’m sorry.1 This won’t last forever, better luck next time, etc.

Here’s the headline + subheading of my story, so you know what we’re dealing with:

Let’s set the scene. Here I am talking with two of the fishermen featured in the story (Adam Newell and Erik Francis) under the red pines at Big Head, above the clam garden Erik stewards2 in Sipayik, one of three distinct self-governing Passamaquoddy communities within the tribe’s ancestral homeland.3 It was that strange (for Maine) and windy 90+ degree day in June and comic relief pine cones4 kept falling from the trees as we spoke about Erik’s history with elvers (catching them in Dixie cups as a kid) and the realities of the very present and ongoing long struggles for Wabanaki sovereignty, foodways, and life.