Wild Rice

 

To tell about wild rice here near the Great Lakes we must first start with the story of the Ojibwe people who came here from the east near "The Great Salt Waters".  The Ojibwe people came into knowledge a great prophecy called "The Seven Fires".  Each of the fire had a prophet that told The People what was to happen in the future and how they were to prepare for those times.  We are now in the Sixth Fire or The Hidden Times when all of the wisdom and sacred items of the people have been hidden from sight...hidden but not forgotten.  When the Seventh Fire comes into being a new people will rise and the wisdom will be brought out of hiding and shared with the all.  How they came to live here along the largest fresh water lake in the world was for told in both the First and Third Fire when they were told to travel west until the came to the place where food grows on the water.

They moved west until the reached the shores of Lake Superior, where they fanned out, looking for the place mentioned in the prophecy.  Finally, after searching for a very long time they came across a stand of wild rice growing as far as the eye could see.  They knew that they had finally made it home and here they have stayed.  The Ojibwe word for wild rice is manoomin which means good seed.

Wild rice is a main staple to many people of the region.  It is not actually a rice, but a grass seed from the plant Zizania aquatica that is high in starch and quite delicious.  While some American Indians celebrate the three sisters of agriculture, beans, squash, and corn, here in the Great Lakes many of the tribes celebrate the three gifts of the wild lands, wild rice, maple sugar, and venison.  Wild rice was the starch that helped the people keep their energy up and get through the cold winters.  It is easy to store and easy to transport, both of which were important traits to the semi-nomadic Ojibwe.

 

I have been gathering wild rice with my father's family since I was very young.  I remember sitting up front and tapping the rice while Uncle Jim paddled at the stern, pushing us through the dense rice beds.  To harvest wild rice is to become part of the lake, the slow moving river, or the mouth of a creek.  You cannot gather wild rice from the shore, you must delve into the sacred world of Water, Herself.  A narrow boat such as a canoe is the best way to do this.  That way you disturb as little of the grass as possible yet still have an open helm to gather the rice in from the tapping.  The rice does not ripen all on the same day, so once we start to see the grains on the stalks we go every few days and tap more into the canoe until the season ends.

After this is done the rice must be winnowed, we do this by either throwing it up over a tarp on a windy day and allowing the wind to blow the chafe away or we do it in the barn in front of fans.  Then it goes into a big pot over a fire where we stir and stir and stir until it is all roasted.  This is my least favorite part of the process.  It's hot and tiring work to stir those many pounds of rice to make sure it doesn't burn.  But I tell you, the aroma of roasting rice is heavenly.  The rice is then bagged and split between all that helped and we come back in a few days to do it all over again.  Usually I end up with around 70 lbs of it to get my through until next wild rice season. 

One of the things about wild rice and humans is that we have developed a symbiotic relationship.  Yes, the wild rice feeds us, but during the tapping of the rice, much of it falls into the water.  By harvesting it in the old fashion way, we actually plant the next year's bed.  When humans don't harvest a bed, the bed usually either gets smaller or stagnates in size.  This relationship has been going on for hundreds of years and both humans along The Lakes and rice has evolved to be what we are now because of the harvest.

 

For hundreds of years this staple of the wild was free for the taking.  People who lived by the lakes would harvest it, and protect the lakes from pollution because rice beds are sensitive.  Then a few years back the Wisconsin DNR decided that if you were not American Indian you needed a permit to do what you had been doing for years.  At first I was both a bit ticked off and I understood.  What ticked me off is that my family had been caring for the wild rice beds that grew in our valley since before Wisconsin was even a state, much less had a Department of Natural Resources.  What I was trying to be understanding about was I was thinking that maybe there was over harvesting of the rice and by issuing permits, the DNR was making sure there was no over harvesting.  Okay, I could give up a little to gain protection for wild rice that grew outside our valley. 

The first day I went to get my licence though I was asked if this was for personal or commercial use.  I said personal, we did not sell our wild rice.  I asked how many commercial licences they were giving out. I was told there was no limit, as many people who wanted to could gather wild rice, they just needed to have a permit.  So the DNR wasn't trying to control over harvesting, they were just going to make money off of a food that had always been free for those of us who were willing to glide through the wild places and harvest from the water.  If that didn't tick me off... Anyway, needless to say I refused to buy a licence and have not bought one since.  This food was a gift from nature, from the water, from God if you are so inclined.  How dare the government charge money for something so freely given?  It almost seems a sin if I were to believe n such things.

My family still glide through the rice beds, we still tap and plant, we still harvest as we have done since before Wisconsin became a state.  Only now we do so as outlaws, harvesting the king's food.  I now know why the Seventh Fire has yet to come to pass and why the sacred knowledge remains hidden.  We are not quite ready for it.  Maybe everyone should get into a canoe and slide into the quiet places, disturbed only by the call of the heron and the chatter of the eagles flying overhead.  Maybe then the New People would rise and a new world be born.  One where we are grateful for our gifts, we care for them, and we give freely from ourselves instead of trying to take.  This is my wish, to live to see The Seventh Fire.