Any
appreciation of Native Americans as ecologists must start with two fundamental
principles. The first recognizes that there are over 500 such nations spread
across a vast continent. Although sometimes related, they each have distinct
cultures, histories, and current goals. The second recognizes that they occupy
multiple ecological zones, ranging from tropical rainforests to high-desert
plateaus. Any attempt to generalize, while not impossible, is likely to lose so
much detail as to render it nearly useless.
Furthermore,
it is a Herculean task, and I will not attempt it. Instead, this short article
will focus on some of the Anishinaabeg living in the Great Lakes region because
I know it somewhat better than any other Native American culture. Their
relationship demonstrates the importance of human beings learning to live as
inhabitants of a worldwide forest, a condition that applies to all of us,
whatever our background and heritage. The question is whether most of us
will—or even can—imagine nature as having a deep, sacred meaning rather than
focusing on its economic utility.
Anishinaabeg
who follow traditional practices do not have a concept of a pristine forest, a
post-World War II ideal primarily created by European Americans. Along with
other indigenous peoples, they do not differentiate between their immediate
environment and themselves. Nor do they conceive of a wilderness untouched by
human hands. Instead, they are part of their immediate environment, and in a meaningful
way, the forest is integral to their sacred world. For these reasons, they
routinely protect more than their own interests when they are in the forest.
They have also respected, learned from it, and drawn meaning from it. It is “a
peopled cosmos” full of mythic manitous of all sorts. They help guard the
Anishinaabe through the many transformations of life and the forest. They
deserve human respect and serve as a model for human behavior. However, they
are not all benign. Mishebeshu, the great underwater lynx or panther,
was a monster who killed the unwary or disrespectful human being. Fear of it
would cause Anishinaabeg to avoid some places entirely. Even the usually benign
Thunderers, who had a guardian relationship with the Anishinaabeg, might kill
through lightning or storm.
What
are the obligations that these Manitou place on the Anishinaabeg to protect the
forest they use and live in? Perhaps the most difficult one for
non-Anishinaabeg is one of reverence. The forest is sacred. The Anishinaabeg
offer prayers and thanks to the appropriate Manitou, often accompanied by
tobacco offerings. But also of other things, such as cloth. This approach
frames the relationship as one of respect, not as one of conqueror.
This
reverence applies to plants as well. The Paper, White, or Canoe Birch, as it is
commonly known or Betula papyrifera scientifically, is sacred and vital
to the living of traditional Anishinaabeg. They write their sacred stories on
the bark of Nimishooomis-wigwaas or Wiigwassii-mitig, Grandfather
Birch. They use the bark to light fires because it is such good kindling. They
travelled in canoes made of bark from one end of the Great Lakes to the other.
The bark forms a tray for wrapping the newborn in moss and coverings for
lodges. Birch bark cones were used to call moose during mating season. Although
traditional Anishinaabeg will cut down a birch tree for firewood or other uses,
they will not always do so. Instead, a skilled artisan will peel the bark from
a tree for use without killing it. This approach changes the tree’s appearance
while allowing it to continue to live.
The
Anishinaabeg convey both reverence and the vital, accurate knowledge of how to
live fruitfully through stories. Two examples show how: Nanabozho is a
complicated figure in Anishinaabeg myth. Sometimes giving healing knowledge,
sometimes a trickster, and always the older brother or sometimes uncle to the
Anishinaabeg. He also serves as an object lesson when he kills a grandfather
bear and feeds it to his grandchildren, only to have them kill his brother in
retaliation. Each animal also has a Manitou who protects them and must be
placated before taking in a hunt. The Manitou must know that it will continue
to live. The Anishinaabeg will only take what is necessary to survive.
To
illustrate the bounty of birches, maple trees, and their respective sap while
also teaching about the need for reason to control appetite, tribal elders tell
how Nanabozho asked for some of the maple tree’s syrup to eat. He found it so
sweet and good that he drank until his stomach was full. His intemperance made
him nauseous. After groaning for a while, he grew angry and blamed the tree for
tricking him. Arguing that birch sap was too dangerous to leave as it was, he
diluted the birch sap until it would no longer tempt the Anishinaabeg to
overdrink. He punished the birch tree for failing to warn him about the sweet
sap by making its bark useful for the Anishinaabeg. Indeed, it may be better in
some ways for many people than memorizing a tree’s name and full classification
in Latin. The Anishinaabeg traditional way of knowing is not silly, useless, or
inaccurate; it is only different.
Successfully
living in a forest, especially during climate change, requires the Anishinaabeg
and other peoples to address several profound questions about their
environment. How long should a society or nation plan for? The Little Traverse
Bay Bands of Odawa Indians routinely plan for seven generations, or
approximately 150 years, rather than for the next week, year, or even decade.
The Bands focus on maintaining and enhancing wildlife, the overall health of
the forest, and traditional cultural values. They protect key tree species and
increase old-growth characteristics of the existing forest. They also include
projects to rebuild depleted fish stocks in the Great Lakes and elsewhere through
the latest scientific methods, as well as to enhance existing commercial
fishing opportunities.
Finally,
the Anishinaabeg also manage some lands as privately owned and others as common
property. For many years, economists and policymakers believed that managing was economically inefficient compared to the free market. They believed that shared land inevitably led to the tragedy of the commons, in which
everyone’s personal profit motive led to the overuse and possible extinction of
a natural resource. After Elinor Ostrom’s groundbreaking, Nobel-prize-winning
work, however, economists and policymakers should no longer consider managing the
commons solely as a commercial resource; capitalistic postures toward nature
are unsound and can lead to ecological failure. Instead, they should listen and learn from the Anishinaabeg about how the larger
American society should live in the forest. We all would be wise to learn from
them.
References
Geniuz, Mary Siisip. Plants have
so Much to Give Us, All We have to do is Ask (2015).
Geniuz, Wendy Makoons. Our
Knowledge is Not Primitive (2009).
Kimmerer, Robin Wall. Braiding
Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
(2015).
Ostrom, Elinor. Governing the
Commons: The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action (1990).
Smith, Theresa S. The Island of
the Anishnaabeg [sic] (2012).
Webkamigad, Howard, trans and ed. Ottawa
Stories from the Springs (2015).
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Todd Adams is a retired Michigan lawyer who practiced Native American law
and has written law review articles on the subject.
Copyright©2026
by Todd B. Adams. Image©2026 by Todd B. Adams. All Rights Reserved.
