But the most memorable experience I had growing up in Natuashish was when my fathers prediction came true. I might have been 13 years or older back then. That was my first chance to shoot a caribou, after years of trying and not succeeding. The elders said it was the first time in 30 years the caribou herd had come across little Natuashish Pond. It was exciting for any hunter to see such a great herd. They came around the point in great numbers, and a week passed when we saw the magnificent herd pass by our camp.
The spirits of the hunters went up like rockets blasted into outer space. There were screams of joy and tears from our mothers. Hunters grabbed their rifles to hop on the skidoos to get their first kill. The longing for fresh meat was strong after a diet of fish and small game. The hunters quickly went to the wooded area on the other side of the lake, planning to meet the caribou when they came in close. The recently frozen Natuashish was quickly forgotten as men hurried across.
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