By Nora O’Malley Local Journalism Initiative Reporter This story starts down an abandoned forest service road deep in central Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations territory on Vancouver Island. It was fall, two or three years ago. Tyee Wilson Jack was bucking up a log for firewood when he saw something move on the right side of his periphery. “Did something just stand up?” thought the Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ (Ucluelet First Nation) Hereditary Chief. “I didn’t want to turn my head, but I moved my eyes. I swore. It’s a frickin’ Pookemis.” “He’s just watching me,” Jack thought as he continued chopping, as he said to himself, “I’m not gonna panic. One more swing and I’m gonna look.” “THWACK!” Jack swung his axe then turned his head to look. The creature jumped off the stump…
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