The Ojibwe tribal members here are paddling into the rice beds again this fall and harvesting wild rice, knocking it in traditional fashion from bending stalks into the bottoms of their canoes.
It is the first time in decades that Michigan's Lac Vieux Desert band of the Lake Superior Chippewa has gathered rice in appreciable quantities and it makes this a momentous, memorable autumn on the reservation. For years, the tribal members have fought to have water levels on the Michigan- Wisconsin boundary lake lowered so that rice may grow again. In the past few months, their arguments in the long and contentious legal battle have been upheld and, with water levels down about nine inches, wild rice was sown in the spring.
That planting took root and flourished during a good growing season. Now, it has produced a fine crop, the first bountiful rice harvest on the lake since perhaps the 1940s, and canoes are coming in to the landing at the ceremonial grounds carrying thick carpets of wild rice.
The wild rice harvest has meant not only larders full of a favorite and flavorful tribal food but also a quiet, fierce pride in having fought successfully to return an ancient practice, steeped in tradition and spirituality, to the reservation's big lake. In fact, the return of wild rice to North Country lakes is the latest in a series of efforts by the Ojibwe all across the Great Lakes country, from Minnesota to Wisconsin to Michigan's Upper Peninsula, to re- establish old ways of life. On many reservations, such as Bad River and Mole Lake and Lac du Flambeau in Wisconsin, attempts to restore old and flooded rice beds have been an important part of tribal activities in the past five years. The wild rice is returning to its honored place on reservations, alongside traditional spirituality and the language.
And non-Indian resource agencies, such as the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources and the U.S. Forest Service are also making the restoration of rice beds, lost due to dams and development and pollution, a priority.
Bob Evans, a wildlife biologist with the Ottawa National Forest in Michigan, helped the Lac Vieux Desert Ojibwe with their project. He said restoring rice has benefits far beyond the rice itself, for wildlife and fish and water quality.
"Rice is one of the most important native plants for wildlife," Evans said. "It's really a whole ecosystem in itself, home for marsh herons and spiders and worms. When you harvest rice, the bottom of the canoe is just alive with life and you quickly realize a rice bed is a vibrant community."
Rice seen as gift
For the Ojibwe, however, there is something deeper happening here. The return of the rice is the return of one of the cornerstones of their spiritual heritage. In their migration story, the Ojibwe are told to leave their ancient eastern homelands in search of "the place where food grows on water." And in the Lac Vieux Desert oral history, the lake is frequently referred to as "our old garden."
Tribal member Roger Labine is a Midewin, or spiritual leader, as well as chairman of the Lac Vieux Desert band's tribal cultural committee. He recently paddled on a breezy, sunny morning into the rice beds, where he sat in his canoe, surrounded by nodding stalks heavy with seeds, and talked about the pride he sees among tribal members this fall as they harvest rice.
"This was a gift to us," Labine said of the rice, or manomin, as it is called in the Ojibwe language. "It is something that is sacred to us. Just like our language, it is part of who we are. But it's fragile. And without these original beds, we really don't have a community."
Labine paused as the rhythmic sound of tribal members knocking rice into their canoes drifted across the beds. Above the stalks flew great blue herons, eagles, terns and geese.
"So this is encouraging," Labine continued, looking across the beds. "It's encouraging to see because my grandchildren and my great grandchildren will always be here."
But there are other traditions on this lake, the traditions of the non-Indians who live and own resorts around the shore. While they may not be as old, they are traditions nonetheless. And, as with spearing walleye off-reservation in the spring - a right reserved by the Ojibwe in their mid-1800 treaties and upheld by modern courts - lowering water levels and restoring rice beds has been a source of conflict between Indian and non-Indian communities. Such a clash of tradition is nothing new in the North Woods.
Ken LaCount is president of the Lac Vieux Desert Lake Association. The day before Labine paddled his canoe into the rice bed, LaCount had motored to a lake park near the headwaters of the Wisconsin River to talk about the rice controversy. It was significant, he pointed out, that he had to anchor his pontoon boat several yards offshore and wade to land.
"We used to be able to come right to shore here," LaCount said.
It is just one of the most noticeable impacts of keeping water levels lower, LaCount continued. "I haven't talked to anyone who thought it was good to have the water levels lower," LaCount said. "Our boat lifts don't work and there is damage to shorelines. I had to walk 50 feet to get to shore here. It's that way all around the lake."
LaCount also wondered whether lower water levels may be increasing the tangle of weeds in the lake because of more sunlight reaching the bottom.
As for the importance of tradition for the tribal members, LaCount said he understands but added that the local people who own homes and resorts around the lake have their own history. He's lived on the lake since 1946 and his grandfather built and ran one of the lake's oldest resorts.
"They came here one time, too," LaCount said of the Ojibwe. "So did these other people who own homes around the lake. They have their heritage, too."
Levels lowered for test
Dave Coon remains skeptical about whether the lake can even sustain the rice beds. He's the environmental affairs director for the Wisconsin Valley Improvement Corp. or WVIC, the company that operates the dam on Lac Vieux Desert and other Wisconsin River flowages.
It was when Coon's company applied for a license for its dam in 1991 that the Ojibwe and the U.S. Forest Service asked the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to make WVIC lower water levels on the lake. Other government agencies, including the Wisconsin DNR, supported the request.
The years-long licensing battle centered on historic water levels, with WVIC arguing that water levels have always been too high on the lake to support sustainable rice beds. Also, the sediments in the bottom of the lake do not lend themselves to keeping rice plants rooted, Coon said.
But the tribe eventually won its case, with FERC ordering a 10-year trial of lower water levels so that rice could be planted and its progress monitored. The trial period came with a requirement to monitor the health of the rice beds; a thriving and sustainable rice crop would mean continued lower lake levels. Water levels were lowered nearly 10 inches and, in the year 2000 rice was seeded from canoes into the traditional ricing grounds in Rice Bay. That fall, 15.8 acres of rice grew again in the bay.
This year, Labine said, with harvesters working around him, the bay is alive with 45.6 acres of green and windblown plants. And now, during these bright days of autumn, the rice is being brought ashore and processed in the old ways. It is being parched over fires and separated from its husks with wind and beneath the feet of dancers.
And the rice, fresh from "the old garden," is showing up again on tables across the reservation.Wisconsin State Journal
