A Native Son? In the politics of cultural identity, I used to bristle a little at referring to our Haudenosaunee brothers and sisters as "Native Americans", because it implies I'm not. I used to ask myself "Don't I know these lands and waters pretty well?" "Am I not a native son, nourished by this place, of this place, as much as anyone? Am I not a creature, somewhat knowledgeable in his biome, as much as anyone else here?" "Don't we all have to think of ourselves as Native Americans, treading on the bones of our ancestors, in order to love this place appropriately?" I can read rivers and creeks and soils and forests and see a little into the story of landscapes. I can identify most of the trees and find some edible, medicinal, and utility plants in any season here. I love this region, the Finger Lakes of Western New York, deeply. I've been arrested trying
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