Being a wage earner interfers with my life. My wife and children however, require that I support them in such a manner as requires it. In spite of this, I do like to preserve some of the "living by the seasons" bequeathed me by my ancestors.
As the end of August approaches I get out to the lakes and rivers to see how the rice is doing. The lake we live on was once one of the best rice lakes in the area, but the gov't built a dam which intereferes with rice growth.
Early in the summer the grass lays flat on the water. As fall approaches the stalk stiffens and the grain starts to form. The grain looks more like oats than rice and was known to the first French in our area as folle avoine. The Ojibwe, or Shinob, call it manomen - and it is their staff of life.
When I first check the rice it is usually green. To check, I winnow a few kernals. If they are still milky - the rice is not ready.
When the rice is finally ready, we pack up for wildrice camp. We usually go to Wigwam Lake (named for my g-g-g-grandmother's wigiwams) or Cramer Lake. Each of these lakes is within easy travel distance of other rice lakes - if it is a poor season. At Wigwam Lake we camp on g-ma's site which requires canoeing everything to the north shore. We set up two or three tents for each family.
On the first morning we are in the canoe at 8AM (legal starting time). Many birds, from honkers to rooks, are in the rice. In the bow I will have one or two of my kids sitting on the bottom of the canoe - knocking. They each carry two cedar sticks called "knockers." With one stick they gather the rice over the side of the canoe, With the other stick they gently "knock" the rice into the canoe. By the end of the day - they will be almost buried by rice. No matter how warm it is, we wear long sleeve shirts and gloves. The rice is very scratchy. A very good harvester can get 300 pounds of fresh rice in a day. I'm not very good. 75 pounds is a pretty good day's work for me.
The canoe is very open - with no seats and very narrow thwarts and gunwales. It cannot be longer than 18 feet. Anything that will deflect the rice out of the canoe has been removed. I pole the canoe. I stand in the rear of the canoe and push the canoe along. The pole is 14 feet long and is made of balsam or spruce with a "duck bill" on the end because of the soft bottom. When I was young we would make the "duck bill" of a tree crotch and rabbit it onto the pole with wire.
At 3 PM (legal closing) we paddle back to camp. We spread the rice on a tarp and let it dry over night. The next day at closing we place the rice in a large kettle placed half way onto the fire. With a special paddle we stir the rice so it goes over the fire - to burn off the "beard" - but does not stay over the fire long enough to damage the rice.
When the beards are burned off, we dance on the rice. To do this, we make a hole in the ground. We line the hole vertically with cedar splits (very much like wood shingles).
Over the shingles we lay a deer skin or tarp. The unfinished rice is placed in the hole. A horizontal pole is strapped to two up right poles for the dancer to hold onto. The dancer must have a new pair of moggasins. Sometimes we drum, though the kids like to use their walkman. As we dance, the hulls are seperated from the grain by being crushed against the uneven surface of the cedar splits.
This process can also be performed by use of a large log, raised and dropped vertically into the hole. Dancing is more fun.
When enough rice has been "danced," the women place the rice in birchbark trays and throw the rice in the air and catch it again. It is good to have a little wind to do this - as it blows away the chaff.
When a sufficient amount of rice has been processed, we have a first harvest meal. Usually the main course is venison and rice with maple sugar. Ojibwe never had salt before the whites came and used maple sugar for seasoning. We also make fry bread and blue berry pies (made over the campfire - these look nothing like a normal pie). If we've caught any fish - these also supplement the meal.
PG
As the end of August approaches I get out to the lakes and rivers to see how the rice is doing. The lake we live on was once one of the best rice lakes in the area, but the gov't built a dam which intereferes with rice growth.
Early in the summer the grass lays flat on the water. As fall approaches the stalk stiffens and the grain starts to form. The grain looks more like oats than rice and was known to the first French in our area as folle avoine. The Ojibwe, or Shinob, call it manomen - and it is their staff of life.
When I first check the rice it is usually green. To check, I winnow a few kernals. If they are still milky - the rice is not ready.
When the rice is finally ready, we pack up for wildrice camp. We usually go to Wigwam Lake (named for my g-g-g-grandmother's wigiwams) or Cramer Lake. Each of these lakes is within easy travel distance of other rice lakes - if it is a poor season. At Wigwam Lake we camp on g-ma's site which requires canoeing everything to the north shore. We set up two or three tents for each family.
On the first morning we are in the canoe at 8AM (legal starting time). Many birds, from honkers to rooks, are in the rice. In the bow I will have one or two of my kids sitting on the bottom of the canoe - knocking. They each carry two cedar sticks called "knockers." With one stick they gather the rice over the side of the canoe, With the other stick they gently "knock" the rice into the canoe. By the end of the day - they will be almost buried by rice. No matter how warm it is, we wear long sleeve shirts and gloves. The rice is very scratchy. A very good harvester can get 300 pounds of fresh rice in a day. I'm not very good. 75 pounds is a pretty good day's work for me.
The canoe is very open - with no seats and very narrow thwarts and gunwales. It cannot be longer than 18 feet. Anything that will deflect the rice out of the canoe has been removed. I pole the canoe. I stand in the rear of the canoe and push the canoe along. The pole is 14 feet long and is made of balsam or spruce with a "duck bill" on the end because of the soft bottom. When I was young we would make the "duck bill" of a tree crotch and rabbit it onto the pole with wire.
At 3 PM (legal closing) we paddle back to camp. We spread the rice on a tarp and let it dry over night. The next day at closing we place the rice in a large kettle placed half way onto the fire. With a special paddle we stir the rice so it goes over the fire - to burn off the "beard" - but does not stay over the fire long enough to damage the rice.
When the beards are burned off, we dance on the rice. To do this, we make a hole in the ground. We line the hole vertically with cedar splits (very much like wood shingles).
Over the shingles we lay a deer skin or tarp. The unfinished rice is placed in the hole. A horizontal pole is strapped to two up right poles for the dancer to hold onto. The dancer must have a new pair of moggasins. Sometimes we drum, though the kids like to use their walkman. As we dance, the hulls are seperated from the grain by being crushed against the uneven surface of the cedar splits.
This process can also be performed by use of a large log, raised and dropped vertically into the hole. Dancing is more fun.
When enough rice has been "danced," the women place the rice in birchbark trays and throw the rice in the air and catch it again. It is good to have a little wind to do this - as it blows away the chaff.
When a sufficient amount of rice has been processed, we have a first harvest meal. Usually the main course is venison and rice with maple sugar. Ojibwe never had salt before the whites came and used maple sugar for seasoning. We also make fry bread and blue berry pies (made over the campfire - these look nothing like a normal pie). If we've caught any fish - these also supplement the meal.
PG
