'Peaceful' fiddlehead gathering in Neqotkuk First Nation
This is part of a series called Ann's Eye, featuring the work of Ann Paul, a Wolastoqey content creator. You can see more Ann's Eye pieces by clicking here.
Hiya Nicholas is a plumber by trade, and knows too well how fiddlehead skins can get stuck in pipes.
That's why when he takes people out to gather fiddleheads with him, he also teaches them how to properly clean the green ferns, a popular springtime dish in New Brunswick.
WATCH | Connecting to culture through fiddlehead-picking:
Ann's Eye: A day by the Tobique River with a lifelong fiddlehead harvester
3 hours ago
Duration 2:47
Indigenous peoples, of course, have been gathering fiddleheads for centuries, said Ann Paul, who recently went fiddlehead picking with Nicholas and his grandson, Easton Sockabasin, along the Tobique River in Neqotkuk First Nation.
"I appreciated going to get teachings from a different community," said Ann, a member of St. Mary's First Nation. "It was so calming and peaceful."
It's the act of connecting with creation that inspires peace, she said.
"When you feed yourself with the food from creation, it calms your soul."
Scroll through the photos and watch the video to learn more.
Ann's Eye
Photographer Ann Paul brings an Indigenous lens to stories from First Nations communities across New Brunswick. Click here or on the image below to see more of her work.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
CBC
14 hours ago
- CBC
Christmas tree growers keep watchful eye on spread of dangerous mould
Christmas tree growers in Atlantic Canada are monitoring the spread of a disease and looking for ways to combat it. Phytophthora abietivora, a destructive form of mould first identified in 2017 — although it has probably been around undetected for much longer — is causing root rot primarily in Fraser and balsam fir trees. Matthew Wright, treasurer of the Christmas Trees Atlantic Association and a crop protection expert, said imported seedlings may have brought the disease into Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, where localized outbreaks have occurred. "It's not anything to be casual about," he said. The disease is spread through soil, water, infected plant material and contaminated equipment. According to the Canadian Food Inspection Agency, the disease spread from the northeastern U.S. to Quebec and Ontario. In Quebec, it was reported in forest nurseries and Christmas tree plantations where it caused root rot. In Ontario, it has been found in samples from forested areas but is not associated with any disease. Wright said the disease is a slime mould and belongs to an ancient group of organisms between algae and fungi. "They have swimming spores that move through moist soil to infect new trees," he said. "That's why drainage is one of the real keys to managing it." The mould produces thick-walled spores that can survive in soil for decades, meaning that once it is in a field it is almost impossible to eliminate. Wright said a warming climate in the region may be worsening the problem. Frozen soils had frosts that went deep enough to kill off most mould species, Wright said. But with milder winters, the frost isn't penetrating as deeply, and the mould is surviving. He said growers can reduce the chance of losses by improving drainage and planting on raised beds. Wright said if the disease spreads to natural stands of trees the consequences could be devastating. Infected trees should be removed and burned to prevent further contamination. Research efforts Wright said researchers are exploring ways to fight the disease. In North Carolina, he said scientists are grafting Fraser fir onto momi fir rootstock, an Asian species that has developed "bulletproof" resistance to the mould. Wright said Canadian researchers, led by a team in Quebec, are using DNA sequencing to track the pathogen's spread and test potential biological controls.
CBC
2 days ago
- CBC
People assume I can't be a doctor because of my disability
This is a First Person column by Kendra Hebert, who lives in Garnett Settlement, N.B. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ. It was the first day of a new rotation. I entered the ward wearing scrubs, my stethoscope draped around my neck and my hospital ID clipped to my shirt. Indistinguishable, I thought, from any other medical student. As I approached the nursing station in my wheelchair, a nurse I hadn't met before looked up and asked, "Are you here for an appointment?" I paused, momentarily caught off guard. "No," I replied. "I'm the new medical student starting today." Her face changed instantly; an apology, an explanation. She said she hadn't meant anything by it, she had just seen my wheelchair first and assumed I was a patient. It was a brief exchange, but one I've experienced in various forms more times than I can count. Still, it stayed with me. It's a quiet, persistent reminder of how easily people make assumptions when you don't fit the expected image of a doctor. My name is Kendra Hebert, and I'm a third-year medical student at Dalhousie Medicine New Brunswick. I have a physical disability and use a manual wheelchair, crutches and leg braces. That puts me in a unique position, and it's not a role I ever imagined for myself. Becoming a doctor has been my lifelong dream, but I questioned whether there was a place for me in medicine. I was able-bodied for most of my life. At 21, my mobility declined rapidly without an explanation. Within three months, walking was a challenge. I was an active and athletic person and the sudden loss of mobility was devastating. Without a diagnosis, the uncertainty was unbearable. I didn't apply to medical school. Instead, I began my master's in experimental psychology. I love research and am still actively involved in it today, but I felt disconnected from the people I wanted to help. Eventually, I received a diagnosis. My genetic disorder is incurable, but it's not progressive. With the right care team and adaptive devices, I regained much of my independence. That's when I decided to apply to medical school, terrifying as it was. I had never seen a physician with a disability like mine. There were doubts and there was pushback from people who questioned if I would be capable. But there was also incredible support from my family and friends, and especially from my twin sister, Courtney. Courtney and I shared the same condition, but it affected her internal organs. At the same time that I was adjusting to my changing mobility, she got sick. In just 18 months, she had more than 30 hospital admissions, multiple procedures and surgeries. We shared the same dream and applied to medical school together. The application process takes a year; you apply in July to start the following August. Courtney passed away that November due to complications from treatment for her illness, just a few months before I received my acceptance letter. Her memory is why I continue. Her loss reminds me every day why I do this. I try to focus on the positive, but it's not always easy. Hospitals are often inaccessible. My wheelchair doesn't fit everywhere. While most public areas are accessible, staff spaces rarely are. Tasks as basic as opening a door can become major obstacles when spaces aren't designed with accessibility in mind. I've had to grow more comfortable relying on others and asking for help, not because I am incapable, but because these spaces disable me. As a disabled student, I'm often mistaken for a patient. I'm talked down to, babied or told I'm "inspiring" just for existing. People often ask, "What's wrong with you?" before they ask my name. I try to plan ahead. I can't just show up somewhere like my classmates. Even with an accommodations plan and many supportive people behind the scenes, things get missed because this is uncharted territory. At times, I've had to advocate for the same learning opportunities my peers receive without question. I try to choose rotations where I know that I will be treated as a learner and not a burden. I can adapt to inaccessible spaces, but I can't change inaccessible attitudes. I'm still trying to accept that. Yet for every negative encounter, there are many uplifting ones. Strangers tell me they're proud of me and they're glad to see someone like me in medicine. They know I understand what it's like to be on the other side. One such moment happened during my internal medicine rotation. I was asked to do a consult for a patient who had been admitted for several weeks. Despite countless tests and input from multiple physicians, her condition continued to decline. No one had found a clear answer. When I entered her room, she was sitting up in bed, visibly unwell and exhausted. It was written all over her face. I introduced myself and invited her to tell her story. As a medical student, I had one luxury many others on the team didn't: time. So I listened. I asked questions. I listened some more. I heard about her fears, frustrations and the long days of feeling unseen. I couldn't solve her mystery. But at the end of our conversation, she reached out, took my hand and thanked me. She said it was the first time she felt someone had truly listened, from start to finish. For the first time, she felt understood. Being the first can feel isolating and overwhelming. But it can also feel extraordinary. I know how much it would have meant to see someone like me in medicine when I was starting out. I hope to be the mentor and role model that I needed — a reminder that we belong here.
CBC
2 days ago
- CBC
Pilot project introduces fresh fruit to Fredericton park
Social Sharing Fresh produce is an expensive commodity in this day and age, but a pilot project in Fredericton hopes to expand access to fresh fruit and other ingredients. The city's parks and trees department, along with kids from the multicultural centre, spent a day in June planting 30 skinny fruit trees in Wilmot Park, each inside a mulch circle with sunflower stalks on either side to protect the trees. While the trees might seem bare right now, Victoria Cray, an urban forest technician for the City of Fredericton, said she estimates the trees will start bearing fruit in five to seven years. "Fruit trees do take a little bit to get bigger, but after that, they'll be producing fruit for the rest of their life," she said. Cray said the trees came from Quebec, but the city hopes to start its own fruit trees by seed in the future. The trees include plums, pears, apples, cherries and mulberries. Along with the trees, the food forest includes some plants that were sourced from the Fredericton region such as borage, which has edible leaves that can be used in salads or dressings; chamomile, which can be used in teas or for medicinal uses; as well as poppy, oregano, thyme, chives and others. Cray said the project was relatively cost effective, with the most expensive thing being the trees, since the perennials — more than 100 of them — were all grown locally. "I think this is why it will work in the future, because especially with growing our own trees … we'll be cutting costs a lot," she said. Cray hopes that if given the go-ahead, she can expand the planting to the north side of Fredericton along some of the trails next year. The City of Saint John took on a similar project last year called the "blossom buffet," planting 43 fruit trees in Queen Square West using a $10,000 grant from Tree Canada. In Moncton, the city said it planted six cherry trees at the front steps of the Moncton Coliseum over the last couple of years as well as 32 arguta kiwi vines at the Ian Fowler Oval. At the Fredericton fruit forest, Cray hopes for more signage to be added in the future that will explain what's growing and that people should take what they need and leave some for others. The trees are small at the moment, said Cray, but as they grow, they can be pruned as big or small as you want them. She said the department hopes to keep them relatively small so people of all ages can pick from them. Cray said there's another benefit to having small trees. "A smaller tree … has more time to establish and have a better system for the future," she said.
