Interdependence
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While Linda deftly sliced through rich King Salmon meat, smoothing flesh away from bone with her ulu, I carried the orange fillets to my Dad at the cutting table. Swatting mosquitoes, Dad portioned out slices for vacuum packing, while the neighbors tied strips together with yarn for hanging in the smokehouse. Among friends and family, we worked together to catch, clean, and process salmon from the
Each member of the crew pitched in to help with what they could, working together to bring in the salmon. After letting the net out over the side of the boat, we watched in eager anticipation for the tell-tale splashes signifying a fish caught in the mesh. With the net trailing from Bill's hand-made wooden boat, swallows filled the air above the cliff face where they nested, offering us a brief distraction from our task. Then, pulling in the net burdened with salmon (or sometimes, less burdened then we'd hoped), we quickly sorted the fish into bins - Chums for the dog team, Reds and Kings for eating. After gutting the fish, we cleaned the boat with water dipped from the river. At home, the Chums hung full-length in the walk-in freezer while a frenzy of activity continued around the dog yard - cleaning, cutting, stripping, brining, hanging, vacuum packing - all done quickly with many hands. With Bill's boat, Linda's knowledge of the river, and the family and neighbors who pitched in to help with every step of the process, we enjoyed the fresh, rich taste of the King Salmon that Mary cooked for a dinner among friends in Bethel.
This is a story of interdependence as I experienced it in
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