“Let me see you, so that I can tell your story.” These words fly with an arcing toss into the ether as I traverse the natural world with thoughts turned to encountering the Supernatural. Long ago a Iihlangaa—Young Man looked inside as the Herring People danced in their great longhouse. As he withdrew, he tasted the eggs spawned onto his facial hair: revulsed, he threw his moustache away with the eggs. Then, experimentally, he broke off a hemlock branch and pushed it into the house, and upon pulling it out he tasted the eggs laid thick on the needles. He smiled, enjoying the flavour and knowing that when the Herring danced they would sustain him.


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