Harry was a fount of knowledge of the natural world as well as of the history and culture of his people. He loved sharing his extraordinarily deep understanding of beavers, bears, deer, coyotes,owls, trees and all manner of birds and smaller creatures. Precious details filled every conversation - the winter trapping and processing of beavers, how to creep up on sleeping coyotes (they keep below the skyline, but find sleeping places facing south to catch the warmth of the morning sun), the various habits of owls, from the little burrowing owls on the prairies to the very particular calendar of activity of the big owls in the northern woods. He said that pronghorn antelope have the keenest sight of all the game animals he hunted, and it was no use trying to creep close to them unless you could make yourself practically scent-free and invisible. There was so much more, every visit.
Harry knew Tamworth down to its individual rocks and trees. When we discussed big pines or rare species of trees, he would give complicated directions for finding individual specimens vivid in his memory, his eyes shining with enthusiasm, and regret that he himself could no longer stride into the woods on legs he told me never seemed to tire when he was young.
In his last year we had conversations where he took us deeper into his life. We discussed war, the wars of the past, his war, WW2, and what it meant to be a warrior - Harry was clear-eyed and unsentimental about that. He also talked about his people and the future with the rare double vision of one who had made most of his adult life in the American mainstream, a quiet triumph. A part of him was certainly the true All-American patriot. Thank you, Harry, for giving us so much.
