In the sixties, I got to tag behind archaeologist,
Clyde Kennedy, on a dig by Pembroke, Ontario. I'll never forget the throw-away food bones in the dirt of that Archaic camp by the rapids. Bones no thicker than a bowling pencil or old-style straw had all been cracked to get at the marrow.
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Clyde Kennedy at the Morrison Island site near Pembroke, early sixties. |
For comparison, here's my scarcely-gnawed leftover from a T-bone supper. I'll take the latter while those who glorify the noble pre-industrial savage
(They had iphones, didn't they?)
can go back in time and take the former.
Good riddance. Plenty is better.
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