People, from children to tribal elders, circle the smoking campfire

"We need to understand how important these plants are individually and as groups. And we need to understand Native American people and communities as essential parts of the ecosystem." Kathy McCovey Barger, Ethnobotany course instructor

FROM TOP: Frank Lake whittles the stakes he’ll use to roast the wild salmon from the Klamath River that campers will enjoy for dinner that evening.
Salmon stakes surround the campfire. A student inspects an unfolded bundle of bear grass. This is the way Karuk basket weavers traditionally store their materials.

DURING THE THREE-DAY, TWO-UNIT course, students from a variety of majors meet with instructors from tribal and land-management agencies. The two groups provide an approach to land management that makes sense for the area and the cultural needs of tribal groups. One goal is to introduce students to groups and ideas they might not find in a traditional classroom setting.

"It's an opportunity to meet some amazing people," says HSU senior in Cultural Anthropology Alexis Pereira. "You have a chance to learn something about the environment, a chance to meet people who've grown up locally and a chance to network with people doing research. And it's a lot of fun."

Tradition and Science

SPEAKERS FROM BOTH THE tribe and the state agencies set the stage for the course's lessons and experiences.

"This new kind of forestry, called eco-management, is important," says HSU graduate student and course instructor Kathy McCovey Barger. "If you don't know the members of the community, then land managers don't really know what they're managing for." Barger McCovey is also a Karuk medicine woman and forester.

Ken Wilson is one of the founders of the Ethnobotany course, which emerged from a state-run program a decade ago. Wilson, a retired state archaeologist and tribal liaison, agrees that cultural resources are a significant aspect of modern land management.

FROM TOP: Kathy McCovey Barger displays traditional woven fish traps as she demonstrates other traditional weaving materials. In Karuk tradition, women shell acorns, a culturally significant plant and food.

"It's important to work with tribal communities and government agencies. It's important to get the word out about how to manage the botanical resources important to tribes. And it's really rewarding to get the two together," he says. "Traditional ecology and modern science are interrelated."

Soon the students break out into workshops throughout the site. One of the most telling lessons comes from the preparation of the acorns and the Indian potatoes. Clumps of dirt and roots sit in scattered piles at the Indian potato station. Students sift through the earth to uncover the scattered, walnut-sized vegetables. With proper land management, the students learn that these potatoes grow larger and more abundantly. However, firs have largely shaded out these full-sun-seeking plants.

Acorns are another traditional food source withering in the long shadows of un-managed firs. The oak trees that provide the acorn flourish in full sun. However, past policies of fire suppression have allowed young fir trees to surround oaks and eventually grow to block out the sun.

Fire suppression has also led to a dense and tangled understory, impenetrable and unusable to humans and many animals.

"A lot of area is not being used to its full potential," McCovey Barger says. She cites a study about how native people of Orleans, Calif., utilized fire. "The Pnomnic people used fire to manage the landscape. Indian women set fires in a two-mile radius. The result was a fine grain mosaic of vegetation."

"We need to understand how important these plants are individually and as groups," she says. "And we need to understand Native American people and communities as essential parts of the ecosystem." Revitalizing that relationship is at the core of Ethnobotany (For more about the ecology of wildfire, see the spring 2009 Humboldt magazine).

Traditional Use

A ROTATING GROUP OF five students sits in a sunny spot making a natural dye used to color traditional baskets. Using nearby stones to grind soft chunks of the red-orange elder bark to a fine dust, students learn about the traditional process of stripping bark without harming the tree.

Another nearby group lays out rows of four-foot hazel shoots and pounds them flat with rocks to remove the internal vascular bundles. After carefully peeling the fibers, students learn how they are used for basket weaving and how proper land management effects that use.

Erin Rentz has studied the affects of fire ecology on bear grass and hazel—plants traditionally used in Karuk basket weaving. "Is there really a difference in plant materials after they've been burned? My studies show that fibers that haven't been burned don't have the plasticity," she says.

As the sun begins to set, the whole camp prepares the evening potluck. Fire-hot rocks are dropped into a pot of soaking acorn meal to create a soup. Indian potatoes and a handful of mushrooms picked from the native plant garden are placed over the fire next to salmon and eel fished from the nearby Klamath River.

Once every camper has a full plate, everyone gathers to hear traditional Karuk tales told around the fire.

"Storytelling is a way to pass lessons down from generation to generation," Pereira says. She also says it is a way of sharing cultural understandings with students. "It's important to keep an open mind because there are different ways of knowing and understanding things. I feel really grateful to this community for opening its doors to us. I'm definitely going to do it again."