Dentalium shell
The word dentalium or dentalia (plural), as commonly used by Native American artists and anthropologists, refers to tooth shells or tusk shells used in indigenous jewelry, adornment, and commerce in western Canada and the United States. These tusk shells are a kind of seashell, specifically the shells of scaphopod mollusks. The name "dentalium" is based on the scientific name for the genus Dentalium, but because the taxonomy has changed over time, not all of the species used are still placed in that genus; however, all of the species are certainly in the family Dentaliidae.
Dentalium shells were used by Inuit, First Nations, and Native Americans as an international trade item. This usage is found along the western coast of Canada and along the Pacific Ocean coast of the northwest United States extending southward to Southern California. Traditionally, the shells of Antalis pretiosum (previously known as Dentalium pretiosum, the precious dentalium (a species which occurs from Alaska to Baja California) were harvested were harvested from deep waters around the Pacific Northwest coast of North America, especially off the coast of Vancouver Island. Today most dentalium shells in the shell trade are smaller, more brittle, and are harvested from coasts off Asia — i.e. they are shells of Indo-Pacific species of scaphopods.
Podcasts:
-
by Danny Doyle
-
by Diane Tell
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
-
by Tony Hadley
The Hills Of Kerry
by: Danny DoyleOh the palm trees wave on high all along that fertile shore
Adieu, you Hills of Kerry, I never will see you more
Oh, why did I leave my home, And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing around you sweet Tralee
The noble and the brave have departed from your shore
They´ve gone, they've gone to fight the war's, where the mighty cannons roar
Will they ever again return To see old Ireland free
And hear the small birds singing, around you sweet Tralee
Will I ever see the shamrock, that sprig so fine and grand
Or hear the curlew flying high O'er lowly Banna Strand
As I stand on this foreign shore And think on what might be
Will I ever more return again, to see you sweet Tralee
No more I'll see the sunbeams on that precious harvest morn
Or hear our reaper singing in a field of golden corn
There´s an end to every woe and a cure for every pain
But the laughing eye's of my darling girl, I never will see again
Oh the palm trees wave on high all along that fertile shore
Adieu, you Hills of Kerry, I never will see you more
Oh, why did I leave my home, And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing, around you sweet Tralee