The Clarence River ran past our island. There were oysters on the mangroves, and we ate gibbras, the worms out of the mangrove trees. When the mullets came up the river, there were hundreds of fish. My grandmother and the other old women recognised the signs and knew they were coming. The gibbras – worms – were a sign. My grandmother sent us out to trap them. Then there was dancing and celebration, because it meant there was a feed.