A C K N o w l E D g M E N T S
one hot day in October 1995 I sat on the ground
by a deer carcass, off in the woods somewhere near the
Yucatecan pueblo of Tetiz. After a day of tagging along
with a hunting party as it pushed through the brush
in one-hundred-degree heat, I was covered with dirt,
twigs, and small ticks. Another man and I had each
been given a trussed deer to carry back to camp in a way
working people of the region practice with heavy loads
from childhood: hoisted onto the back, with a rope
running from the carcass over the forehead and hands.
The first couple of times I tried to get the animal on my
shoulders, it flopped around and threw me off balance,
knocking me over. Finally, I hoisted it up and staggered
forward, the coarse, brutal cord abrading my hands and
forehead. I made it about one hundred feet before the
deer shifted again, snapping my neck back and pull-
ing me down, one last time, atop the carcass. While I
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