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Centers for Educational Justice & Community Engagement

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Indigenous language American Indian people American Indian art
Native American Facts For Kids was written for young people learning about the Maidu tribe for school or home-schooling reports. We encourage students and teachers to visit our mainMaidu website for in-depth information about the tribe, but here are our answers to the questions we are most often asked by children, with Maidu pictures and links we believe are suitable for all ages.

Sponsored Links What kinds of stories do the Maidus tell?
There are lots of traditional Maidu legends and fairy tales. Storytelling is very important to the Maidu Indian culture. Here is a story about

What about Maidu religion?
Spirituality and religion were important parts of Maidu life, and some people continue to practice traditional beliefs today. It is respectful to avoid imitating religious rituals for school projects since some Maidu people care about them deeply. You can read and learn about them, however. You can visit this site to learn more about

Maidu Tribe

Maidu is pronounced "my-doo." That comes from the word for "people" in their own language. "Maidu" was originally just the name of one particular community, but in modern times, it has come to refer to the whole tribe.

The Maidus areCalifornia Indians, located in Northern California. Most Maidu people still live there today.

Most Maidu people live onrancherias, which are parcels of land in the state of California that are similar to reservations. There are two Maidu rancherias, each with its own tribal leadership. Not all Maidu people today live on the Pit River rancherias, however. Some live in intertribal communities with members of other tribes, such as the Round Valley Reservation and the Susanville Indian Rancheria. Others live in Northern California towns.

In the past, each Maidu band was led by a chief or headman who was appointed by the medicine man. Today, each Maidu rancheria is governed by a tribal council elected by its residents.

The Maidu speak English today. In the past, they spoke their nativeMaidu language. Some Maidu elders still remember words from this language, and there are younger people who are interested in learning to speak their traditional language again. If you'd like to know an easy Maidu word,he'i, pronounced heh-ee, is a friendly greeting. here is aMaidu picture glossary you can look at.

Here's a link to theKonkow Maidu Cultural Preservation Association. On their site you can find information about the Maidu people in the past and today.

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They do the same things any children do--play with each other, go to school and help around the house. Many Maidu children like to go hunting and fishing with their fathers. In the past, Indian kids had more chores and less time to play, just like colonial children. But they did have toys and games. The hoop game, where players tried to throw long darts through a moving hoop, was a popular one with kids. Teens and adults played gambling games-- dice games for women and girls, and a game where players held marked sticks behind their backs and guessed their location for men and boys. Maidu girls also played withdolls. Like many California Indians, Maidu mothers traditionally carried their babis inbaby baskets. Here is a website withbaby basket pictures.

The Maidus lived in earthen houses. Usually these houses were made from a cone-shaped frame of wooden poles placed over a basement-like hole dug into the ground. Then the frame would be covered with bark and packed with a mound of earth to keep it well insulated. Because they were partially underground, Maidu houses appeared smaller than they really were. Here are some pictures of differenttypes of Native American houses. Today, most Maidu live in modern houses and apartments, just like you.

Maidu people didn't wear much clothing. Maidu men usually went naked, and Maidu women wore grass skirts. In cold weather, Maidu people would sometimes wear rabbit-fur robes. The Maidus usually went barefoot, but when they were hunting or traveling, they woredeerskin moccasins on their feet. Here are some photos and links about theNative American fashion in general.

The Maidus didn't wear long headdresses like theSioux tribes. For dances and religious rituals, Maidu men wore headbands made of flicker feathers and elaborate feathered caps, likethis, but they did not wear these headdresses in ordinary life. Maidu women worebeaded headbands. The Maidus only painted their faces for dances and ceremonies, but they did weartattoo patterns. Women tattooed lines on their chins, while men tattooed their arms and chests. Maidus of both genders wore long beaded necklaces and shell jewelry in their pierced ears and noses.

Today, some Maidu people still wear moccasins or beaded jewelry, but they wear modern clothes like jeans instead of grass skirts.

Yes--the Maidu tribe madedugout canoes by hollowing out pine logs. They used these canoes to travel and fish on the rivers. Here is a website with pictures ofIndian dugout canoes. Canoeing is still popular among California Indians, though few people carve a canoe by hand anymore. Today, of course, Maidu people also use cars... and non-native people also use canoes.

What was Maidu food like in the days before supermarkets?
The Maidus werehunter-gatherers. Maidu men hunted for deer and small game, and fished in the rivers. Maidu women gathered acorns and ground them into meal to make bread and soups, as well as collecting berries, nuts, and other plants. Here is a website with more information aboutNative American cooking.

Maidu hunters used bows and arrows. Maidu fishermen used nets and basket fish traps. The Maidus didn't go to war very often, but they did sometimes raid each others' villages. During raids like these, warriors usually fired arrows at each other instead of fighting hand to hand. Here is a website with pictures and information aboutIndian archery.

Maidu artists are known for their finebasketweaving. Here are pictures of someMaidu baskets.

What other Native Americans did the Maidu tribe interact with?

The Maidu primarily traded-- and fought-- amongst themselves. Each Maidu band had its own independent leadership, and they did not always cooperate with each other. Another tribe that the Maidu bands frequently interacted with was theMiwok tribe. Sometimes Miwok and Maidu people would marry each other.
Can you recommend a good book for me to read?
If you want to know more about Maidu culture and history, one interesting source for kids is
the origin of fire. Here's a website where you can read more aboutMaidu myths.

Maidu religious traditions, or this site aboutNative American beliefs and practices in general.How do I cite your website in my bibliography?
You will need to ask your teacher for the format he or she wants you to use. The authors' names are Laura Redish and Orrin Lewis and the title of our site is Native Languages of the Americas. We are a nonprofit educational organization working to preserve and protect Native American languages and culture. You can learn more about our organization

The Maidu. Older readers may enjoyThe Northern Maidu, an oral history by a Maidu elder. Two good books for kids on California Indians in general areCalifornia Native Peoples andNative Ways ; a more in-depth book for older readers isTribes of California. You can also browse through our recommendations ofNative American books in general. Disclaimer: we are an Amazon affiliate and our website earns a commission if you buy a book through one of these links. Most of them can also be found in a public library, though!

here. Our website was first created in 1998 and last updated in 2020.

Thanks for your interest in the Maidu Indian people and their language!

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Maidu Indian Tribe
An overview of the Maidu tribe, their language and history.

Maidu Language Resources
Maidu Indian language samples, articles, and indexed links.

Maidu Culture and History Directory
Related links about the Maidu Native Americans past and present.

Maidu Words
Maidu Indian vocabulary lists.

Return to the Information About Native Americans homepage
Return to our menu of Indian nations

Tribal genealogy Chinook Delaware history Words in Indian

Would you like to help support our organization's work with endangered American Indian languages?

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Indigenous language American Indian people American Indian art Native American Facts For Kids was written for young people learning about the Maidu tribe for school or home-schooling reports. We encourage students and teachers to visit our mainMaidu website for in-depth information about the tribe, but here are our answers to the questions we are most often asked by children, with Maidu pictures and links we believe are suitable for all ages.

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Benthic. Tropical

Members of the class Bivalvia are mostly gonochoric, some are protandric hermaphrodites. Life cycle: Embryos develop into free-swimming trocophore larvae, succeeded by the bivalve veliger, resembling a miniature clam (Ref. 833).

Members of the class Bivalvia are mostly gonochoric, some are protandric hermaphrodites. Life cycle: Embryos develop into free-swimming trocophore larvae, succeeded by the bivalve veliger, resembling a miniature clam.

Bisby, F.A., M.A. Ruggiero, K.L. Wilson, M. Cachuela-Palacio, S.W. Kimani, Y.R. Roskov, A. Soulier-Perkins and J. van Hertum. 2005. (Ref. 19)

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Benthic. Tropical Members of the class Bivalvia are mostly gonochoric, some are protandric hermaphrodites. Life cycle: Embryos develop into free-swimming trocophore larvae, succeeded by the bivalve veliger, resembling a miniature clam (Ref. 833). Members of the class Bivalvia are mostly gonochoric, some are protandric hermaphrodites.

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California State Parks is the steward of many significant cultural treasures. The State Parks Indian basket collection includes over 3,000 baskets that reflect the diversity and antiquity of human experience of California Indians. The baskets vary in construction and usage. Many California Indians used watertight baskets for cooking acorn soup. Fire-heated stones were placed into food mixtures and stirred with a willow loop or paddle until the food was cooked. During ceremonial occasions and feasts, large cooking baskets were used to serve steaming hot food.

The baskets in State Parks' collection illustrate the qualities that determine their strength and durability: weaving technique and selection of raw materials. Weavers select materials based on their properties and the intended function of the basket. The ability to weave a watertight basket demonstrates the sophisticated technology and plant knowledge possessed by many California Indians.

Tribal Affiliation: Luiseno
Basket Type: Coiled basket
Dimensions: Overall: 8cm x 34.5cm (3 1/8in. x 13 9/16in.)
Description: Coiled basket on multi-grass warp; bowl shaped; foundation, epicampes grass; weft, sumac; background, straw color; design, brown; rattlesnake design; lizard design; Snake diamond back, formed by weaving stitches of ground color in outlines.
Collector: Jessie Norris Fovgeus
Source: Frances Murphy

Tribal Affiliation: Yokuts
Basket Type: Bowl
Dimensions: Overall: 16.5cm x 43.5 cm x 44.5 cm (6 ½ in. x 13 9/16 in. x 17 1/2in.)
Description: Coiled basket. Oval shaped basket with eleven cross designs around bottom and 36 people holding hands on top. Warp, bunchgrass; weft, sedge root, redbud, brackenfern root. Designs; row (lower) of large, outlined crosses; row (upper) of human figures
Collector: Unknown
Source: Unknown

California Indian Basket Weaving Materials

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California State Parks, State of California

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California State Parks is the steward of many significant cultural treasures. The State Parks Indian basket collection includes over 3,000 baskets that reflect the diversity and antiquity of human experience of California Indians. The baskets vary in construction and usage. Many California Indians used watertight baskets for cooking acorn soup.

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Southern California basketry, tóonavish, is recognized worldwide for its quality. Our baskets are renowned for their exceedingly tight weaves, beautiful textures, and intricate designs. The Pechanga Cultural Center and Government Center frequently exhibit a number of Pechanga's carefully preserved baskets.

Our baskets are vital to our culture, traditions, and history. Their designs - some of which are quite intricate - often capture an event in time, tell a story (often known only to the weaver), or reveal the cultural connections of the weaver. The shapes and sizes of the baskets are also as varied as their patterns.

A Basket Revitalization

Amongst many Tribal nations, basket weaving, practiced since time immemorial, is enjoying a contemporary resurgence. The 'atáaxum have long held a desire to protect and revitalize this important element of California Indian culture. Now, many modern weavers are finally receiving proper compensation for their work. Years - and often decades - of weaving develop one's reputation as a weaver, and skilled teachers are highly respected in the Native community.
Pechanga basket weavers, like those from many tribes, face the constant challenge of finding places to gather basket materials, and some have become vocal advocates of sustainable land use. Their work educates agencies, environmental groups, and the public about traditional plant management techniques as practiced by Native American basket weavers. Through methods such as pruning, digging, sowing, burning and selective harvesting, they show how to achieve optimum plant growth and desired characteristics among Native plant species.
Most traditional gathering sites have been lost to private property owners, development, agriculture, and so on. In response to this crisis, some California Native basket weavers, as de facto site monitors, have initiated an open dialogue with agencies such as the Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management (BLM), National Park Service, and California Department of Parks and Recreation. The first Basket Weavers Gathering in 1991, an inter-tribal effort, created a forum where basket weavers could speak directly to representatives of public land agencies. Their work helps to affect change in state and national environmental policies while bringing an increased knowledge of the value of traditional native land/resource management priorities and practices for use in a variety of projects.
The Pechanga tribe honors everyone who is dedicated to the effort required to become a weaver.

BASKETRY MATERIALS:

Basketry is more than just weaving. It represents a balance with the environment: Collecting, preparing, aging, and dyeing the necessary materials must all be done at specific times of the year. Today, weavers are constantly searching for the best materials, which is sometimes the result of a prime growing location, but more often, it is the outcome of special care given by the weavers. This includes annual harvesting or pruning, burning when possible, and polite conversation: a good weaver will always talk to the plants. Some of these plants are hundreds of years old and have been visited by several generations of weavers, so they know us well.

Preparation of weaving materials can be very tedious. The deergrass flower stalks need to be stripped of their seeds and chaff. This requires slow and patient passing of the flower stalk through a leather strip. (A weaver will often suffer several fine splinters piercing fingers and hands as the work progresses. The splinters usually resist being removed by simply breaking up beneath the skin and refusing the grip of tweezers.)

Sumac, which is also called skunk bush or sour berry, must be collected when the sap is down, preferably in late winter. The long, leafless stalks are collected and split into two or three pieces. Each weaver will develop a personal preference on preparing sumac. It is easier to split and size the material immediately after harvest, but some weavers prefer to split the material and then dry it for up to two years before sizing because dried sumac doesn't smell as much. The strips are usually white in color and are most often used undyed.

Juncus, also known as wire grass, is another plant used in weaving. The stalks of the juncus are gathered and split into three pieces just like sumac. Like sumac, preparation of juncus is dependent upon the preferences of the weaver. Juncus produces a green stalk and will retain its color until it is exposed to sunlight. At the base of the stalk, juncus will produce a length of reddish-brown material varying in length from a few inches up to eighteen inches before turning green. This brown or red juncus is one of the common colors used in weaving the designs in the baskets.

Once juncus is split and sized, it is placed in the sun so that the green color can be bleached out. Once the pieces are bleached, they are ready to be dyed. Many agents can be used to dye juncus, including walnut hulls, elderberry leaves, iron-rich mud, and even rusty nails. The juncus and dyeing agents are placed in a container of water and soaked for two weeks. The result is black juncus.

Red Willow is the primary material from which large granary baskets are made. Willow granaries are traditionally used to store acorns.

Yucca Fiber

Yucca fibers are often used as the foundation for a basket's start.

Weaving Techniques:

Traditional Pechanga weaving techniques share many similarities with other Tribes of Southern California. We make our baskets using the Coil Method - wrapping deergrass bundles with a strip made from juncus or sumac.
Starting a basket is considered to be one of the most difficult parts of weaving. Most baskets are started by forming a bundle with yucca fiber, and then wrapping it with the selected material. After completing two or three rounds, the weaver begins to insert flower stalks from the deergrass until the yucca fiber is spent and the stalks make up the main foundation of the basket.
An awl is used to pierce the top edge of the bundle so that the juncus or sumac can be passed through and wrapped around the successive bundle. Awls are made of bone, metal, or a cactus thorn. A deer bone awl was preferred prior to European contact but was often replaced with metal needles when they became available. Most weavers now utilize both bone and metal awls depending upon the material and the style of the weave.

Patterns:

'Atáaxum baskets often feature two or more horizontal black bands, and/or diamonds, squares, triangles, or zigzags, "net" patterns of connected diamonds, "stair steps" of bands or boxes, or "whirlwind" designs. Some of these designs can also be seen in pre-contact rock art today, and their use in multiple art forms indicates that the images are significant.

Depictions of animals and plants native to Southern California are common themes seen on many baskets. These images may be representations of things that people saw every day, that were artistically pleasing to the weaver, or they may have a deeper, spiritual meaning known only to the artist.

The use of human figures in Southern California basketry is rare. The baskets that show groups of people together may have been created to commemorate celebrations or other important gatherings, while the baskets with lone human figures may represent family members, tribal leaders, or people who played significant roles in oral histories.

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Southern California basketry, tóonavish, is recognized worldwide for its quality. Our baskets are renowned for their exceedingly tight weaves, beautiful textures, and intricate designs. The Pechanga Cultural Center and Government Center frequently exhibit a number of Pechanga's carefully preserved baskets. Our baskets are vital to our culture, traditions, and history.

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California Indian Baskets By Beverly Lane California Indian baskets were admired, written about and collected by the first Europeans who invaded California. The baskets were objects of beauty and utility. Indian basket weavers demonstrated extraordinary artistry and expertise when they made these baskets and that tradition lives on as contemporary basket weavers create new works of art.

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Long before the arrival of Europeans, the Pacific Ocean provided the Indian Nations of California with an abundance of shellfish: clam, abalone, mussel, olivella, and dentalium. These provided not only food, but the shells were the raw material for beads, jewelry, currency, and fishhooks.

Archaeology has found that clamshells - Saxidomus nuttalli and Tivela stultorum - have been used to make beads since about 1200 AD. Clamshell beads were traded inland into central California and Nevada. The clamshell beads, also called clam disc beads, are flat, white, and round. They are drilled in the center and can be up to one inch in diameter. Some of the clamshell beads made by the Coast Miwok were tiny and a great deal of work was required to grind them to a small size. Therefore, these small clamshell beads were not worn as casual or ornamental jewelry, but were considered to be a form of wealth which could be given to others or inherited.

The Coast Miwok traded clamshell beads and abalone shells to the Wappo and Pomo for obsidian. Clamshell beads were also used as a kind of money which could be used to pay for songs and prayers, dancers, doctors, and instruction in special skills. Among the Coast Miwok, men tended to be the beadmakers.

Olivella shells ( Olivella biplacata) were either strung whole for jewelry or they were used for making small sequins for decorating ceremonial items. Unlike the clamshell beads, beads made from olivella were not used for money. Their use by the Hoopa, Yurok, Karuk, Wiyot, and Miwok was primarily ornamental.

Shown above is a photograph of a Hupa shaman by Edward Curtis. Notice the shell beads.

Olivella beads were also used on baskets. Some of the large coiled baskets displayed in some museums have designs in white sequin-sized beads. Each of the beads was stitched in place as the basket was woven.

Many different species of abalone are found in the Pacific waters. Abalone meat was considered a delicacy and the shells were made into large ornaments, fishhooks, and beads.

Shown above is a Wishram woman photographed by Edward Curtis who is wearing a dentalia bridal shell headdress and earrings.

Dentalium hexagonum is a shell which is shaped like a small tusk. While it is not native to the California area (it is found off Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada) it was widely used by the California Indians for money, ornaments, necklaces, pendants, and earrings.

In California there were two different types of shell beads. The first of these were the "money" beads which could be obtained by selling goods (both food and manufactured products such as baskets). "Money" beads could be used by anyone. Among the Yurok, Karuk, and Hupa, dentalium could be used as a kind of money for arranging marriages, settling debts, and in other situations. The shells were usually kept in long strings. There were some individuals who had lines tattooed on their arms for measuring the strings of beads.

The Chumash also manufactured the flat shell beads which were used as a form of currency throughout California.

The second type of shell beads were associated with social class or rank. In northern California, wealth permeated every aspect of the Native American cultures and great importance was placed on the accumulation and display of personal wealth.

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Long before the arrival of Europeans, the Pacific Ocean provided the Indian Nations of California with an abundance of shellfish: clam, abalone, mussel, olivella, and dentalium. These provided not only food, but the shells were the raw material for beads, jewelry, currency, and fishhooks.

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In a time when the nation has faced hurricanes in the South, fires in the West, and a global pandemic, people are becoming increasingly aware of the effects of climate change. The consequences of ignoring the heavy human footprint on the world are clearer than ever. As a resident of Sonoma County, I witnessed the effects of the fires firsthand as I watched ash rain from the sky. These events not only wreak havoc on the places that we call home-they also destroy valuable parts of our ecosystem, and consequently, the diverse array of species that live within them. As humans, we exist within and influence nature, just as events within nature affect us. Furthermore, what we know about nature informs how we interact with nature, and this in turn affects the world we live in.

Regardless of how we perceive or choose to interact with nature, we can learn a valuable lesson from California's rich history with abalone. As a graduate student interested in sustainable use of marine resources, for my internship this summer, I read about and marveled at the human coexistence with these iconic marine snails. Sustainable resource use requires extensive knowledge of marine ecosystems and the creation and nourishment of meaningful relationships between the people that use these resources. California abalone are a paradigm of what can go wrong-and what can go right-as humans work together to manage resources sustainably.

Abalone are large gastropod mollusks that inhabit the cold waters of California. While other species live elsewhere across the world, there are seven abalone species in California: white abalone, black abalone, red abalone, green abalone, pink abalone, pinto abalone, and flat abalone. These highly sought-after mollusks have been ingrained in Californian culture for centuries. The book Abalone by Ann Vileisis tells the story of the history of the seven abalone species inhabiting California coastal waters, from about 70 million years ago to 2019. Every group that was tied to abalone-including commercial and recreational fishers, tribes, and environmentalists-whether they wanted to preserve abalone for conservation purposes, cultural significance, or their livelihood - deeply cared about abalone, but struggled to develop the best path forward and the best way to address shared and sustainable use of abalone. With so many competing interests and abalone populations constantly dwindling, creating an effective management plan was a complex issue.

Environmental degradation is linked with social injustice. The diversity of user groups and types of use throughout the eighteenth century compounded with racism and xenophobia produced a disordered and ineffective management of abalone as a cultural, economic, and ecological resource. The earliest users of abalone were the Native Americans who left the earliest middens (piles of abalone shells) about 12,000 years ago. Many Native American tribes, including the Chumash, the Valley Yahi, the Hupa, the Yokuts, the Ohlone, and the Wiyot tribes valued and utilized abalone. For many of these tribes, abalone hold deep spiritual meanings, or meanings that can only be understood through ceremonies, songs, or stories that are passed down over the generations. In the late 18th century when the Spaniards began to establish settlements in California, they used abalone shells as a path to their own wealth via the Pacific fur trade. Here, the Spaniards exchanged abalone shells for otter furs, or sold them for quicksilver, which eventually became gold. This trade also decimated the populations of many indigenous peoples, who were enslaved, genocided, and killed by various diseases transferred by the Europeans. For the Chinese and Japanese immigrants to California, the abalone was already embedded in their culture and cuisine - so it is unsurprising that they propelled the California abalone fishery in the mid-late nineteenth century. But, these immigrants were eventually barred from labor due to a series of xenophobic acts, including the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882 that prevented Chinese immigration to America and rendered them ineligible for citizenship, and the 1907 Gentlemen's Agreement, an agreement between the U.S. and Japan that prevented Japanese laborers from entering the U.S.

For over half of the twentieth century, due to the demand for both abalone and jobs, there was frequent conflict between multiple user groups with different relationships to abalone as a resource and a way of life. For example, as abalone populations became increasingly smaller, recreational fishermen blamed commercial fishermen for depleting populations with their landings, and commercial fishermen believed the recreational fishermen were depleting abalone populations by fishing them out of shallow waters. Abalone's popularity as a part of Californian culture peaked between the 1950s and 1970s. Although regulations for abalone diving were enforced throughout the century, the fishery was such a valuable part of the coastal economy, regulations tended to favor economic interests over conservation interests. Eventually, due to inadequate knowledge of the complexity of abalone populations and the importance of interactions between different species in marine communities, abalone were pushed to the brink of extinction. By the early 2000s, two out of seven of California's abalone species were listed as endangered, and four out of seven have since been listed as species of concern. But, fortunately, none had yet been declared extinct.

A captive breeding program for endangered white abalone headquartered at UC Davis Bodega Marine Laboratory has produced thousands of baby white abalone that were released in the ocean for the first time in the fall of 2019, substantially increasing the size of the wild population. This effort required the coordination of universities, state and federal agencies, aquariums, aquaculture farms, former commercial and recreational fishers, and many other community members. It also required a deep understanding of the physiology and ecology of this species. Similar efforts are underway for other imperiled abalone in the state. It is the strong, inclusive partnerships and deep scientific understanding that have made these efforts so successful where earlier management and conservation efforts struggled.

In a world where nature is facing increasing pressure from growing populations and climate change, we can learn a valuable lesson from California's history with abalone. People, whether they are immigrants, natives, fishermen, or conservationists, often care about preserving the same resources. Ensuring that these resources can be used sustainably by everyone is a complex challenge that requires cooperation and collaboration between groups, and extensive knowledge of the ecosystems that provide the services we value so much. By using these same principles, we can combat climate change and preserve species at risk today.

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Abalone: The Story of a Treasured Mollusk on the California Coast

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In a time when the nation has faced hurricanes in the South, fires in the West, and a global pandemic, people are becoming increasingly aware of the effects of climate change. The consequences of ignoring the heavy human footprint on the world are clearer than ever.

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Hunched over a tank inside the Bodega Marine Laboratory, alongside bubbling vats of seaweed and greenhouses filled with algae, Kristin Aquilino coaxed a baby white abalone onto her hand.

She held out the endangered sea snail - no larger than a bottle cap - like a delicate jewel. After years of fretting over their health, cleaning tanks and filtering the saltwater just right, one tiny oops could undo it all.

"They're like human hemophiliacs," Aquilino said, using a plastic ruler to measure the stubborn gastropod as it twisted and squirmed. "Even a small cut, they can bleed to death."

To the untrained eye, they appear pretty drab. But in this humming lab, home to more white abalone than in the wild, these invertebrates have captured minds and even hearts. They're the unsung canary in the coal mine - their vanishing numbers sounding the alarm of human greed and the perils we face as the land and oceans burn.

Abalone once were to California what lobster is to Maine and blue crab to Maryland, so plentiful they stacked one on top of another like colorful paving stones. Californians held abalone bakes, spun abalone folk tales, sang abalone love songs. They grew large and hardy and fetched extraordinary prices. One diver once said it was like pulling $100 bills from the seafloor.

But we loved them almost to death.

The oft-told story of over-fishing goes something like this: Fishermen organize to defend their livelihoods, environmentalists protest, wildlife officials create rules to keep the population and the trade alive. But in this case, bans came too late, and the abalone fisherman is already a generation gone.

The white abalone - one of seven species along the California coast - once numbered in the millions, but in 2001 it became the first marine invertebrate to be listed as a federal endangered species.

How to save the white abalone has become a scientific puzzle. No one had thought to study them when they were abundant: What do they eat? How often do they reproduce? By the time this information was crucial to their survival, there were few left to study.

Scientists, aquarists, abalone farmers and retired divers have spent years trading notes, searching for wild abalone, and getting them to reproduce. Anchoring the effort is Aquilino's lab, which breeds them by the thousands in hopes of one day planting them in the ocean where they belong.

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Aquilino has bathed and fed and pampered these snails with studious care. She's known them longer - five years - than her own children, and on this day in August, the mother of abalone was saying goodbye as the team packed them up for their journey into the wild.

If all these years of effort and love do pay off and Aquilino's abalone thrive, maybe, just maybe, they might even revive a special heritage that also has been dying in California with each passing year.

Aquilino held up the abalone and looked square into its beady-eyed face.

"You," she said, "are the future of your species."

The story of the abalone begins with the native people of the land, who say the strength of the ocean is in the abalone. Like the buffalo in the plains, the abalone in California were used for food, for tools, for adornment. Their shells, brilliant and pearlescent on the inside, were cherished and traded as far as New Mexico, where just one could buy a horse.

The California coast once teemed with the greatest number of abalone species in the world - black, white, red, green, pink, flat and pinto. Linguists trace the word back to the indigenous Rumsen people in Monterey Bay, where they had gathered red abalone, aulun, for thousands of years. Spanish settlers adopted this word into abulon.

Know your abalone

Some abalone prefer shallow, rocky habitats, and others like to stay many feet under the sea. They're named after the colors of their shells, flesh or tentacles.

In the early 1900s, "Pop" Ernest Doelter, a German restaurateur who landed in Monterey, was frustrated that his oysters from San Francisco didn't always arrive fresh. Looking for a local product, he took a red abalone into his kitchen to experiment.

He figured out how to tenderize it just right - five whacks with a wooden mallet. He ran it through an egg wash, added cracker crumbs and cooked it up in butter, just like wiener schnitzel.

Sweet and salty with the slightest crunch, abalone steaks became a seafood sensation. Many professed their love in song and rhyme, jotting down verses in Pop's guest book, according to historian Tim Thomas, author of "The Abalone King of Monterey."
Oh! Some like jam, and some like ham, And some like macaroni; But bring to me a pail of gin And a tub of abalone.
Millions of pounds were harvested by commercial fishermen, and diving for abalone became a favorite pastime.

"My dad was Dr. Ab. He once got five abalone in one breath," said Jenny Hofmeister, who is now trying to save the species with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. "We'd have a big abalone feast.... All the families come together and it's a full day of slicing and pounding and frying."

When there were no more abalone on the rocks, divers went after species in deeper water. Whites, whose range stretched from Point Conception to Baja California, were the last to be fished, and in time more than 99% of the population vanished.

The state in 1997 finally banned both commercial and sport diving south of the Golden Gate Bridge.

But for all these years of caps and restrictions, the species has not recovered. With El Niños and red tides and rising temperatures, the ocean has become a much trickier place to live.

That's how so many white abalone ended up hundreds of miles north of their native habitat, in Aquilino's Bodega Bay lab, where the water's still cold.

Here in the facility run by UC Davis, they get the best food, the cleanest water. The lights are synced to sunrise and sunset in Santa Barbara. More than 80,000 gallons of seawater pump in daily, and an intricate network of pipes and contraptions zaps away bacteria with UV radiation and filters everything down to 5 microns. The water is chilled to exactly 57.2 degrees Fahrenheit.

A huge threat to survival is withering syndrome - a disease, scientists discovered, that proliferates in warmer water and paralyzes the abalone's esophagus. The abalone stops eating, eventually digesting its own muscle to death like a starving human would their own fat.

Lucky for Aquilino, the state shellfish health expert (yes, that's a real job) works next door. His team developed an antibiotic bath that keeps the bacteria at bay. They also developed a protective shell waxing treatment, coating the abalone with organic coconut oil and beeswax twice a year.

"We're like the Sonoma County spa retreat for white abalone," Aquilino said.

They deserve to be pampered. The future, after all, rests on the sexual whims of the 10 special mama and papa abalone that scientists were able to recover from the wild.

To get them in the mood to release eggs and sperm within the same hour, Aquilino dims the lights and uses a "love potion" of just the right amount of hydrogen peroxide. She learned some tricks from Doug Bush, an abalone farmer in Goleta who has successfully bred red abalone for chefs and markets.

She finally got 20 babies that made it past the first year. The following year, 120. Then it was a few thousand. She's now at about 30,000 a year, but to truly keep the population going, she needs 100,000 new abalone each year.

"If we can make enough of these animals," she said, "we will be able to save the species."

Eight months before the white abalone were packed up in Bodega Bay, Heather Burdick and her team were on a research boatoff the coast of Palos Verdes, tending to the other half of the operation: Learning and practicing how to put abalone deep into the ocean.

On this cold January day, they were checking on 1,200 farm-raised red abalone they had left in 20 makeshift homes built out of milk-crate-like boxes anchored to concrete slabs. Burdick and her team at the Bay Foundation had tucked them along a reef about 70 feet deep. Like easing fish from the pet store into an aquarium, these so-called SAFEs (Short-term Abalone Fixed Enclosures) help reduce the shock of a new habitat.

It had been two weeks, and Burdick was anxious to see if even a few of the abalone were still alive.

She crouched over a mock-up of the SAFE, fumbling with zip ties and PVC pipes as she showed the other divers how to open the contraption just a crack - enough for the abalone to crawl out if they feel ready, but still enclosed enough to fend off any predators.

Diving at that far depth, they would have only 55 minutes to open all 20 SAFEs. Better to practice on deck before heading underwater.

"Make your mistakes now," she said. "You don't run out of air up here."

These red abalone missions will ultimately determine what's best for the whites. The two species match up closest in how deep they tend to live. The team first tried green abalone in 2015 - much easier, their habitats only 12 feet deep - and saw that planting animals out in the ocean did indeed work.

"All right, let's do this," said Tom Ford, the Bay Foundation's executive director.

They dove off the boat with four other divers. Anticipation charged the silence. Will the abalone, they wondered, embrace the deep ocean?

The visibility was so clear Burdick and Ford could see the SAFEs almost 50 feet before they reached them. They opened the first one like they practiced on deck, and Burdick gurgled in surprise. Four abalone crawled out without hesitation, their tentacles tickling their new surroundings.

Ford gurgled and bubbled back. They watched with giddiness, losing precious minutes of air.

When they resurfaced, the rest of the team was already on deck.

"We had four crawl out immediately! It was so cool," Burdick said. "They booked it."

"Oh, wow, ours just wanted to hang on," said Adri Sparks, who was counting the shells she had collected from all the abalone that didn't make it.

Burdick added eight more to the growing pile. "There was an octopus underneath one of the SAFEs. I think he made it his personal buffet."

They traded more notes on what they saw so many feet underwater. Whites are special because they're the only abalone species that live more than 200 feet deep. They're the Zambonis of the seafloor, the ones who help keep the whole ecosystem stable - especially as climate change throws the entire ocean out of whack.

Abalone thrive on kelp. But the kelp forests have been dying as the ocean gets hotter and clouded with more pollution. And what little kelp is left keeps getting devoured by aggressive purple urchins that have pushed out all other life, carpeting the seafloor.

"If there's no forest, you wouldn't expect any birds perching in the trees," Ford said. "In our ocean, there is no abalone without the kelp."

Divers in Southern California have spent years smashing purple urchins. They're monitoring the decimated forests and helping them heal. All this work leading up to the white abalone's homecoming - the kelp, the green abalone, now the red - just might bring back the whole ecosystem.

On a warm day in July, 20 scientists gathered for one of their final missions: Finding just the right spot in the ocean for the white abalone.

David Witting, a NOAA Fisheries biologist, had spent years gathering local knowledge from retired fishermen and divers to identify areas where white abalone once thrived.

A good hint that you've found a primo location is if you come across a white, he said.

It's a rare sight, but Witting's been lucky a few times. He still remembers a fateful day in 2016 when he came face-to-face with a full-grown female clinging to a large rock. Careful not to disturb her, he lugged the 10-pound boulder back up to the boat. That abalone spewed millions of eggs this April, mobilizing an entire network of aquariums, labs and farms across California as Team White Abalone scrambled to house 7 million new larvae.

Now they just need a home in the ocean. Witting and the team gathered around a map marked with points and lines. They discussed what to look for: Macrocystis kelp. Foliose red algae. A nice mix of boulders and bedrock, cobble and sand.

Ian Taniguchi, a 27-year veteran at the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, was ready to channel his inner abalone - crevices, nooks, good places to hide. His colleagues say he has a particularly good "abalone tingle."

Taniguchi sank slowly to the bottom, skimming three feet above the seafloor. He pushed through the kelp and admired the nice ridges along the reef. Another diver suddenly heard his muffled yell and rushed over to see a large white abalone.

When the divers hoisted themselves back onto the boat, Burdick asked, "See anything interesting?"

Taniguchi grinned. "Only a live white abalone."

"Shut up! Really?

"We found one too!" Sparks, from the Bay Foundation, called out across the deck. Her dive partner, Armand Barilotti, had spotted one moments before they had to swim up for air.

"We did a little dance," she said. "We did a lot of dances."

Witting, the NOAA biologist, popped out of the water: "I found one!"

He joined the deck full of jubilant scientists and savored the moment. Each diver had spent years solving their piece of the abalone puzzle: Burdick and her team practicing different methods with red abalone. Another team, led by the Paua Marine Research Group, doing the same in San Diego. A dozen more at NOAA, Fish and Wildlife and the Aquarium of the Pacific studying how abalone breed, the food they eat, and the predators that eat them.

"Abalone historically brought people together," Witting said. "You get together to dive, get together to cook, get together to celebrate.... We lost all that when we lost the abalone."

Saving this species, he realized, had brought people together again.

In August, back at the lab in Bodega Bay, it was time to say goodbye. Another gathering of people, 30 this time, for the white abalone and Aquilino, the mother who raised them all.

Some wiped away tears. One woman held roses. L. Frank stepped forward to sing to the abalone in Tongva as they began their journey south to their ancient homeland.
Don't be afraid.
"Like the abalone, we are also fighting extinction," said Frank, who is Tongva and Ajachmem. "We understand the loneliness of the comeback. But there is also strength in that comeback."

Aquilino nodded, filled with all the anxiety and joy a parent feels when their kids go off to college. She had spent days preparing the first 3,000 abalone to brave a new world. Now they were all tucked into coolers, cushioned with ice packs and foam soaked in sterilized sea water. Burdick promised to check their temperatures during the 10-hour drive to Southern California.

After giving the abalone two months to acclimate to Los Angeles seawater, the team reunited in October. It was just past 7 a.m., and messages were flooding in from fellow scientists who have worked for years leading up to this day - the day the abalone go into the ocean:

"Happy white ab day!"

"Make me proud!"

Aquilino and Burdick hugged and boarded the boat.

"I woke up this morning shaking," Aquilino said, "with excitement, I think."

"I woke up seven times last night thinking we forgot something," Burdick said.

Burdick and three scientists dove off the boat, geared up like they had practiced so many times before. Aquilino, standing watch on deck, hugged the bag of white abalone one last time before gently handing them overboard.

To her surprise, tears came. Aquilino wiped them away as the divers went under. The day will come, she hopes, when she'll see her abalone again in the wild.

This story was reported and written by Rosanna Xia and photographed by Carolyn Cole. Paul Duginski provided illustrations and graphics, and Sean Greene produced the animations and story design.

Column One is a showcase for compelling storytelling from the Los Angeles Times.

Behind the story

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Can the long-lost abalone make a comeback in California?

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Hunched over a tank inside the Bodega Marine Laboratory, alongside bubbling vats of seaweed and greenhouses filled with algae, Kristin Aquilino coaxed a baby white abalone onto her hand. She held out the endangered sea snail - no larger than a bottle cap - like a delicate jewel.

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Redwoods are integral to the practical and spiritual lives of many native tribes along the California coast. For example, the Yurok use redwoods to build homes, sweathouses, canoes, furniture and other objects, and performed ceremonies when harvesting redwoods or carving a canoe. And below the coast redwood region, in the Santa Barbara Channel area, the Chumash make use of large redwood drift logs to carve strong, light oceangoing canoes. California's native tribes are vital stewards of these lands today.

The native people of the North Coast region have made the redwood forests and associated ecosystems their home for thousands of years. These American Indians spoke many different languages and held numerous and distinct identities. Today, the descendants of these people continue to live on and off reservations in the redwood region.

Prior to Euro-American contact, American Indians had adapted well to this environment. Their profound religious beliefs, extensive knowledge of the natural world, languages, customs, and perseverance continue to be a source of admiration for other cultures.

American Indians in the region belonged to many tribes, although no one tribe dominated. Indeed, the concept of "tribe" does not describe very well the traditional political complexity of the area. There were scores of villages that dotted the coast and lined the major rivers; each of these villages was more or less politically independent, yet linked to one another by intricate networks of economic, social, and religious ties.

Food sources important to the native peoples included deer, elk, fish from the ocean, rivers, and streams, nuts, berries, and seeds. Efficient and reliable hunting, fishing, and gathering methods were always paired with a deep spiritual awareness of nature's balance.

From the Decolonial Atlas

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From the beginning Redwoods are integral to the practical and spiritual lives of many native tribes along the California coast. For example, the Yurok use redwoods to build homes, sweathouses, canoes, furniture and other objects, and performed ceremonies when harvesting redwoods or carving a canoe.

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Copyright 2009 - 2011 by Mario Vaden.

Indian tribes or reservations continue to exist among the Pacific coast redwoods region. But their territory is not as large as it used to be. For example, Redwood National Park is a park now, with hiking trails: not tribe land.

One small display of Indian crafts displayed at the Kuchel redwoods visitor center in Orick, inspired my curiosity. The craftsmanship of basket weaving tight enough to hold water is what first caught my attention.

The first tribe I read about was the Chilula, in a small territory along Redwood Creek with 18 villages including: Noledin (waterfall place), Kingkyolai (big timber point), Tsinsiladifi (bones lie place) and Hlichuhwinauhwdin (dust flies place). The combined population of all villages was estimated at 500 - 600 in the 1700s.

The Chilula villages were near lower Redwood Creek to several miles upstream, near Minor Creek. All but one were on the NE side of the river, where timber was not as dense. In summer the Chilula left the permanent homes, near which they fished, and dwelt mostly on the upper prairie area of Bald Hills ridge, where seeds and bulbs abounded and hunting was available. In autumn the Chilula continued residence in the Bald Hills or crossed Redwood Creek to gather acorns.

The idea of living permanently among the huge redwoods, is fascinating. Big trees, secluded villages, serious rainfall, the ocean for natural boundary.

To the north, the Yurok were located along lower Klamath River, and north and south of it along the coast. Their numbers were about 2,500 in the late 1700's. Like other redwood coast tribes, they built wood plank houses from redwood or cedar. Canoes of redwood logs were built to navigate the river and a bit out to sea: made from fallen logs, burned on one side and dugout for shaping. One Yurok style redwood canoe has been on display at the Orick area Redwood National Park visitor center: carved by Yurok elders Dewey George & Jimmy James, with the help of Jimmy James Jr. & Chuck Donahue: commissioned in 1968 by Mr. & Mrs. Chester Paul to display at Paul's Cannery in Klamath, donated 1987 to the park by Mrs. Paul. The Yurok canoes were said to be among the best

The Yurok name, pronounced "YOOR-ock" means"downriver" in Karok language, although they spoke Yurok. The Yuroks usually used village or clan names rather than a general tribal name. Sometimes Yurok called themselves Olekwo'l, "the people," or Pulikla, "downriver."

One book worth ordering: Handbook of the Indians of California Bulletin. A steep price increase from soft to hardback. But an affordable entry level cost.

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The following information: publication by National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior National Park Service Division of History Office of Archeology and Historic Preservation

Indians belonging to three different cultures have dwelt during the historic period in the sections of Del Norte and Humboldt counties included in Redwood National Park. Because of the environment, these Indians, although belonging to different linguistic groups, developed closely related cultures. Living in villages, they relied on the rivers and forests for their livelihood.
THE YUROK The Villages
The most numerous tribe living in the area was the Yurok. An Algonkin people, the Yurok built their villages on the Klamath and near the Pacific beaches. The hinterland served the Yurok as an area for hunting deer, gathering acorns, beating in seeds, and collecting firewood or sweathouse kindling. There were about 55 villages. A few may have been inhabited from time to time, during the lifetime of a single individual or a group of relatives. Most of the Klamath villages were located on ancient river terraces, which decreased in elevation as one approached the mouth of the Klamath River. Wahsekw was 200 feet above the river, Kenek 100, Kepel 75, Ko'otep 35, Turip 25, and Wohkel 20.

Coastal villages were either on a lagoon or at the mouth of a river. Although the Yurok did not hesitate to paddle their canoes out to sea, their "habits were formed on the river or still water." Their canoes were designed for rivers rather than to be launched through the surf. Fishing was done at the mouths of the watercourses, or by men standing in the edge of the surf, in preference to deep sea fishing.

The important villages were clustered. At the confluence of the Klamath and Trinity was the uppermost group, which in the 1850s had a population of about 200. Within or adjacent to the National Park, at the mouth of the Klamath, were Rekwoi and Wetkwau, with Tsekwetl, Pegwolau, and Keskitsa as quarters, and Tmeri and Otwego "somewhat doubtful as separate villages." According to one estimate, there were living in these villages in 1850 about 200 Yurok. The great fixed ceremonies were all held at populous clusters: Weitspus, Kepel Sa'a, Pekwan, Rekwoi, Wetlkwau, Orckw, and Opyuweg. Each had a sacred sweathouse.
Population
A trader in 1852 took a census of the Klamath River towns from the salmon dam at Kepel to the mouth. He reported 17 villages with a population of 1,052, residing in 141 houses. Rekwoi had 22 houses with 116 inhabitants, Ho'pau six houses with 72 inhabitants, and Wohkel two houses and 15 people. [2] A. L. Kroeber utilizing this census, along with Colonel McKee's count at the Yurok villages, has estimated that there were about 2,500 Yurok in 1852. A count made at the 17 lower Yurok villages in 1895 revealed 151 houses, or ten more than in 1852. But whereas there had been 1,052 Indians in 1851, there were only 384 living in 1895, and a number of these were mixed bloods. There were 141 men, 136 women, 55 boys, and 52 girls, or only about two and one-half persons per house—one-third of the ratio found 44 years before. The majority of these 151 dwellings were built after the fashion of the white man. It was now customary for the Indians to have two kinds of houses—one American and one native. Several of the villages had all but disappeared. Ko'otep and Turip, which had been engulfed with mud in the great flood of 1861-62, had suffered the worst in this respect. Rekwoi, favored by the development of a trading post at Wohtekw-Wohkero, had increased from 22 to 30 houses by 1895.
Customs
Blood Money An American at Rekwoi hired several Yurok to transport stores from Crescent City. A canoe loaded with supplies foundered in the breakers at the mouth of the Klamath, and four of the Indians were drowned. Compensation was demanded. When it was not forthcoming, the American was ambushed and killed by the brother of one of the deceased. According to one version, the goods were government property, and the trader responsible only for their transportation. The Indians' claims are said to have been forwarded to Washington, but while the officials debated what to do, the Yurok, losing hope of a settlement, took revenge.

Ownership of Fishing and Hunting Grounds If several men jointly owned a fishing place, which was common, they used it in rotation for one or more days according to their share, relieving each other about the middle of the afternoon for 24-hour periods. If a man allowed another to fish at his place, he received the bulk of the catch. If only one salmon were taken, the "tenant" kept the tail. It was forbidden to establish a new fishing place or to fish below a recognized one. This provision guaranteed the maintenance of the value of those in existence, and must have closely restricted the total number to those established by tradition and inheritance.

Up to a mile or more from the river, all land of any value for hunting was privately owned. Farther inland, there were no claims, nor was there much hunting.

Free ferriage must be provided. The Yurok and their neighbors extended this right to Americans living among them, charging ferriage only to transients.
War and Peace
No distinction of principle existed in the Yurok mind between murder and war. All wars were merely feuds that involved large groups of kinsmen, several such groups, or only unrelated fellow villagers. Whoever was not drawn into the war was careful to remain aloof as in a private quarrel. When peace came it was made on the only basis known: all damages were compensated. Every man slain or hurt was paid for according to his value, all captive women and children restored, burned property paid for, and seized property returned.

It appears that payments for the aggregate amounts due were made by each side, instead of the lesser value being deducted from the greater and the net difference paid. This practice may have been dictated by the fact that Yurok money was not standardized, no two strings of dentalia were of exactly the same value. In any case, the greater financial drain bore on the victor. The Yurok took no scalps. They did not bother to decapitate a fallen foe unless it was to make certain that he was dead. They held no scalp dance or formal victory celebration. They did have a war dance, however. Their chief weapon was the bow. In hand-to-hand fighting, a short club, spatula-shaped and blunt edged, was used for cracking heads. Spears were known, but seldom used. They had no shield, but had two types of body armor.

During the war between the Yurok and Hupa in the 1830s, a war party of Hupa went out to attack Rekwoi in reprisal for a raid made by the Rekwoi and the Tolowa on the village of Takimitlding. They were joined by their kinsmen from the south fork of the Trinity and the Chilula. The warriors, 100 strong, descended the Klamath in boats, traveling at night and drawing their canoes up into the brush during the day. Rekwoi was attacked and burned, as Takimitlding had been. Those who were not slain had difficulty surviving through the winter, because their stores of food had been destroyed. The Hupa and their allies returned as they had come.

This illustrates the private nature of the quarrel. The canoes had to be laboriously poled and in some places dragged upstream. Had the Yurok possessed any national sentiment, they could have rallied several hundred fightingmen and overwhelmed the Hupa, while they were struggling with the river. As a matter of fact, the Yurok recalled, the villages along the Klamath made no effort to stop the war party. Scores now having been evened, a settlement was made. The Hupa sent to ask for a settlement, and when this took place, large amounts were paid as compensation by both belligerents.
Ceremonies
Yurok ceremonies were aimed at renewing or maintaining the established world. There was a recitation of a "long formula, narrating, mostly in dialogue, the establishment of the ceremony by spirits of prehuman race" and its immediate beneficial effect. After the recitation a dance began, and went on every afternoon, or morning and afternoon, for five, ten, or more days. The dances were of two kinds, known to the Americans as the White Deerskin and Jumping Dances. There was a marked localism in the ceremonies, and the dances were conducted with a distinct attempt at climactic effect.

The Deerskin dancers wore aprons of civet cat or deerskin about the waist, masses of dentalium necklaces, and forehead bands of wolf fur that shaded the eyes. From the head rose a stick on which was fastened two or four black and white eagle or condor feathers—so put together as to resemble a single feather of enormous length, its quill covered with woodpecker scalps—or three slender rods of sinew, scarlet, with attached bits of scalp, elevated from the stick. The dancers brandished poles on which were white, light gray, black, or mottled deerskins, the heads stuffed, the ears, mouths, throats, and false tongues decorated with woodpecker scalps, the hide of the body and legs hanging loose.

The principal ornament work in the Jumping Dance was a buckskin band, tied over the forehead with the ends flapping. Its central portion was covered with 50 large woodpecker scalps, and bordered with lines of other feathers and strips of white fur from a deer's belly.

Many years after he was stationed on the Klamath, Maj. Gen. George Crook recalled that the Yurok had a yearly ceremony on placing a weir in the river at Kepel, to catch salmon. It was one of the occasions when all the wealth was paraded. All of those who were present at the ceremony would have all past blood feuds erased.

The weir was built in ten named sections by as many companies of men. Each group left an entrance, behind which was an enclosure. When salmon had run into these, the gates were shut, and the fish netted.

A Jumping Dance was held annually in the autumn at Rekwoi. The climax was a dance made in two large canoes, which approached across the broad lagoon abreast. At Wetlkwau there was a sacred house and sweathouse. Each year, in April, the formulist and his assistant paraded to the mouth of the Klamath and speared a salmon. This was cooked on the beach, and the assistant attempted to eat the entire fish. If he succeeded, it was believed he would become very wealthy. Wetlkwau also had a Deerskin Dance. It was an aftermath to the salmon rite. In this the competing villages were Turip, Rekwoi, and Wetlkwau. On the last day, they danced across the lagoon in boats and finished on the hill above Rekwoi. No one was allowed to witness the boat dance whose father's payment for his mother had not included either a canoe or one of the large Hudson's Bay Co. knives, which before 1850 were extremely valuable.

The ghost dance craze reached the Yurok about 1872 via the Shasta, Karok, and Tolowa, but it lasted only a few years, and vanished with scarcely any effect.
Superstitions
The Yurok were superstitious. As General Crook recalled, everything that occurred could be blamed on a shaman. If a Yurok went hunting and failed to see any game, or if they saw some and failed to kill it, or if it rained while they were out, or if they lost something, they would declare that they had been bewitched, and they usually claimed to be able to identify the culprit. Crook, when he sought to reason with them and explained that the deer were not where they hunted, they would answer that "they saw so many deer there before, and they were there now, but someone had turned them into brush or rocks."
Houses and Sweathouses
General Crook recalled in his Autobiography that the houses of the Yurok were built from large puncheon boards of redwood, which they had split with their rude implements. To build their dwellings, the Yurok excavated the earth to a depth of three to four feet, and positioned the puncheons on end, thus forming the walls of a hut. Their dwellings were either square or rectangular. The boards were battened to be quite tight. Roofs were made of the same material, and were in the fashion of a frontiersman's cabin. One side of the roof projected over the other, with a space between large enough to permit the smoke to escape.

Doors were frequently cut into one large upright in the gable end of the structure, but more frequently were cut from the adjacent sides of two boards. The shape of the door way could be either round or oval. The fire was built on the ground, and in the center of the house. Some of the dwellings had boulders of a green stone, which through long usage were polished smooth from being used as chairs.

The sweathouse was smaller than the dwelling and dug out over its entire length. The frontage was about 12 feet, the breadth nine to 11 feet, and the greatest height six or seven. The excavation was at least four feet deep. The longer sides were lined, but there were no walls above ground. The interiors were neat, the floor being paved either with well-adzed planks, or carefully selected and fitted slabs of stone. Except for a few block pillows, cut flatfaced from redwood with concave tops, there was no furniture. Somewhat toward one end from the middle was the sacred post, toward the other end the fireplace, a cubical hole of a foot and one-half, lined with flagstone. The door was in the middle of one of the long sides, and faced the water of the river or ocean. It was roundish, provided with a cover, and inside had a ladder with a few notched steps leading downward. A second door, used only as an exit, was at one of the small ends.
Canoes
Both the Yurok and Tolowa had canoes which were similar to each other. They were dugouts, fashioned from redwood. While clumsy, they were symmetrical and carefully finished. They were seagoing, but the design was better calculated to navigate a rushing river full of boulders. The paddle was also for river use. It was a combination of a pushing and a sweeping instrument, a stout pole six to eight feet long, spreading below to a narrow, heavy blade, and used by standing men. Only the seated helmsman used a true canoe paddle. The canoes varied in breadth and beam, the largest having three times the capacity of the smallest, but the length was standardized at about 18 feet. A longer craft would be disadvantageous among the rocks.
Food from the Land, Rivers, and Ocean
The Yurok and their neighbors "ate very largely of the acorn," the staple food of most California Indians; but fish, principally salmon, constituted a greater proportion of their food than was usual elsewhere. Small game was scarce in their territory, and while deer were abundant and their flesh esteemed, they "seem hardly to have formed part of the daily food supply." Nevertheless, General Crook considered the Yurok excellent hunters. Bulbs were dug in early summer; seed were gathered on the ridge top prairies. Salt was secured from seaweed. The people of the coast secured large ocean mussels. The stranding of a whale was always a significant occasion, sometimes causing quarrels. The Yurok prized its flesh above all other food, and carried dried slabs of the meat inland, but they never hunted the huge mammals.

Salmon runs occurred on the Klamath in the spring and fall. These were the periods of the great ceremonies, whether or not they referred directly to the fish. Because of its great flow, there were few weeks when some variety of salmon were not running. Fish were taken with dip nets, seines, set gill nets, and harpoons.

The dip net, or lifting net, was let down from a scaffold built out over the water, nearly always at an eddy or back water. Here the fishermen sat on a block or small stool, holding the bone button of the string which closed the entrance to the cone-shaped net stretched out in the current. This net was hung from the bottom of a long A-shaped frame with a bottom crossbar. The whole was hauled out as soon as a pull on the cord had enclosed a salmon, which was then hit on the head with a club. A single night's operation sometimes produced a hundred salmon.

At other times, a man would sit for half a day without netting one. Lampreys were much prized by the Yurok for their grease. They, as well as sturgeon, were taken in the same manner, but with a net of a different mesh. Both salmon and lampreys were split for drying. Most of the fish were smoked and packed in old baskets as strips or slabs. Surf fish were sun dried whole and hung from poles in rows. A long net was sometimes set for sturgeon. One that was measured had a six-inch mesh, a width of three feet, and a length of 85 feet, but in use was doubled over, making it to appear half that length and width.

The nets were made of two-ply cordage, rolled without tools from fibers of the Iris macrosiphon leaf. The salmon harpoon had a slender shaft, sometimes in excess of 20 feet in length. To this were then attached two slightly diverging foreshafts, one a few inches longer, on which were set loose barbs of pitched and wrapped bone or horn. Sea lion hunters took station on rocks, disguised in bear or deerskins. When the mammals clambered into view, the hunters barked and twisted their bodies, attracting the animals' attention as they approached, then leaping up they harpooned them. The toggle head had two barbs in a row; the line was fastened to the shaft. No attempt was made to hold the powerful beast, but it was followed by a boat, the shaft regained, and at the first opportunity the animal was speared again.
Crook Describes the Indians at the Mouth of the Klamath
General Crook has described better than any other writer, the scene at the mouth of the Klamath and some of the activities of the Yurok. The distance from bluff to bluff at the mouth of the Klamath is over a mile. Heavy breakers from the ocean striking the current of the river have thrown up a sandbar the full distance between bluffs. The channel of the Klamath cuts its way through the bar and discharges into the ocean. Sometimes a violent storm would close the pass, and the river would cut a new one, which was from one-fourth to one-half mile wide. Consequently the channel meandered backwards and forwards.

On these bluffs were two villages. The one on the left bank was Wetlkwau and the one on the opposite bluff Rekwoi. From their villages the Yurok had a commanding view of the beaches.

Crook then a lieutenant, frequently took position on the rocks and shot sea lions as the tide was flooding. The surf was usually heavy, so Crook had to shoot the beasts in the head or neck to kill them.

The Indians from both villages would keep a sharp watch, and as soon as one of the animals appeared, they would break for the beach. The men were armed with saw blades, with a handle about one-third of the distance from one of the ends. The women carried their baskets supported by headstraps, and the children came along to see the fun. While the women and children looked on, the men hacked and sawed away with their knives, and when a piece was cut loose, they would toss it over their heads to be caught by one of the women. Into the basket it would go. Pandemonium ruled. All were shouting, quarreling, jostling, and trying to crowd one another away from the carcass. After the animal had been cut up, they would quiet down, and talk and joke about the good time they had had. Some of them had serious gashes on their hands and arms, but they seemed to take it all as a good joke. At first Crook believed they were fighting, but when he understood what was happening, he "enjoyed the joke as much as they did."
Government and Wealth
The Yurok had a patriarchal form of government. There were no chiefs beyond the heads of families. Influence was dependent on wealth, which "consisted of . . . large woodpecker scalps with the upper mandible attached, and these would be sewn on a nice piece of buckskin dressed white." They likewise valued a long, conical shell found in Queen Charlotte Sound, which they called Ali-cachuck. These shells were similar to the wam-pum of the eastern woodland Indians. Obsidian in large, knife-shaped pieces was valuable, but "a white deer skin would take all an Indian had. He would sell his own soul for one," Crook recorded.
THE TOLOWA The Villages
Ethnologically, the Tolowa were the people of Smith River and the adjacent ocean frontage. Tolowa, like so many California designations of pseudo-tribal nature, was alien to the people to whom it was applied. It was of Yurok origin. The names and locations of the Tolowa villages, as given by themselves, have not been recorded.

Eight to ten villages are known under their Yurok designations, and as many under the names which the Rogue River Athabascans of Oregon applied to them. [25] To the north, the Tolowa territory extended almost to Oregon, while to the south it reached to within a short distance of the mouth of Wilson Creek, six miles north of the Klamath.

There was a Yurok settlement on Wilson Creek, and they claimed whales that stranded on the beach as much as three miles beyond. Inland, Tolowa suzerainty was probably coextensive with the drainage of Smith River, the Siskiyous shutting them off from the Karok of the middle Klamath. Except for hunting, this interior tract was seldom frequented, for the Tolowa were essentially a coastal people.

In 1910 there were 120 Tolowa, one-third of whom were breeds. In the 1850s their number was estimated at well under 1,000.

Relations Between Villages and with Other Tribes The Tolowa villagers engaged in wars among themselves as readily as with alien villages, though it is likely that in the former case each side was limited to kinsmen, while an expedition for revenge against a Yurok or Karok settlement might unite the nation.

In the 1870s there was a blood feud between Seninghat and one or more of the Lake Earl villages. A number of years before, there had been war between Hawinwet and Rekwoi, the latter the Yurok village at the mouth of the Klamath. Blood relatives of the inhabitants—in other villages—participated, but the other Tolowa towns, though in intermediate positions, remained neutral. One engagement took the lives of six warriors, three on each side.

In another, the Yurok were defeated, losing five. The conflict was precipitated by an old woman of Rekwoi, who had a reputation as a witch, employing her magic to stop the annual salmon run on Smith River. Rekwoi, as well as O'men (the most northerly Yurok settlement), was populated by many persons with Tolowa blood, and reciprocally there were not a few Tolowa with Yurok wives, mothers, or grandmothers.

In the war between Rekwoi and the Hupa village of Takimitlding, in the 1830s, the greatest war recalled by the Yurok, they were allied with the Tolowa of Hawinwet and Yontakit. [27] 3. Customs, Institutions, and Implements

It appears that the customs, institutions, and implements of the Tolowa were similar to those of the Yurok and Hupa. The Tolowa served as middlemen to these nations as the principal purveyors of the dentalium shell that formed the standard currency of the region. The Yurok regarded the Tolowa as rich, a distinction they accorded to few others of the people known to them.

The Tolowa held the Deerskin Dance that was practiced by the wealthier and more populous tribes of the region.
THE CHILULA Cultural Background
The Chilula were almost indistinguishable from the Hupa in speech, and were allied with them in hostility toward the coastal Yurok. Like all Indians of the region, they lacked a specific designation for themselves as a group. "Chilula" was English for the Yurok "Tsulu-la," people of Tsulu, the Bald Hills. Locally they were known as the Bald Hills Indians.
Location of Villages
Their villages were located on or adjacent to lower Redwood Creek, from near the inland edge of the heavy redwood belt to a few miles above Minor Creek. All but one of the village sites were on the east side of Redwood Creek, on which the hillsides received more sun and the timber was not so dense. A few were as much as a mile or more from the stream, but most were close to the watercourse.

In summer the Chilula left their homes to camp on the highland prairies of the Bald Hills, where seeds and roots were plentiful and game abounded. Autumn found the Chilula either camping on the Bald Hills or crossing Redwood Creek to gather acorns on the western slopes.

Eighteen village sites are known, of which two (Howunakut and Noieding) are within the boundary of Redwood National Park. On the sites of six of the identified settlements, house pits have been found and counted. Projecting the number found would give the Chilula 175 huts, or about 600 persons, or an average of about 30 to each settlement. The villages contained more pits than houses.

Conflict with the Whites The trails from Trinidad and Humboldt Bay to the gold camps on the Klamath and Trinity crossed the Bald Hills, and the Chilula had seen but few whites, before they found themselves in conflict with the miners and packers. Fighting between California volunteers—supported by United States regulars—and the Indians continued sporadically until the 1860s. Rounded up, the Chilula were either placed on the Hoopa Reservation or sent to Fort Bragg. Blood feuds took their toll, so that by 1919 the Chilula had wasted away. Only two or three households remained in their old haunts, while the few families remaining on the Hoopa Reservation had been assimilated.
Dwellings and Sweathouses
The Chilula built typical plank houses and small square sweathouses in their villages. They were the most southerly Athabascan tribe to use this type of sweathouse. When the Chilula camped in the hills, they built square but unexcavated huts of bark slabs of the type used for permanent dwellings by the Whilkut.
EXTRA COMMENTS
Located within the Redwood National Park are a number of Yurok, two Tolowa, and two Chilula village sites. These sites are located on the Historical Base Map. During the week of April 21-27, 1969, I visited several of the Yurok sites: Rekwoi, Wetlekwali, Otmekor, and Oreku. At Rekwoi there is a typical Yurok house that has been restored by the Del Norte Historical Society and a small Indian Cemetery, while at Otmekor a number of excavations for houses and sweathouses remain.

No remains were found at Wetlekwali and Oreku.

At the latter site they have been obliterated by the sawmill. An archeological survey of the area should be undertaken as soon as possible in an effort to pinpoint on the ground the sites of other Yurok villages within the Park. These villages are: Espau, Osegen, Otwego, O'men, and O'menhipur.

Because of the high visitor interest in the Redwood Creek area, an archeological survey should be undertaken to locate and mark on the ground the sites of the Chilula villages of Howunakut and Noieding, as well as the Tolowa sites of Nec Kab and Chinyatlchi, in Del Norte County.

The story of the Yurok and their river-based economy can best be told at the mouth of the Klamath. Dad's Fishing Camp is located on the south bank of the Klamath, and twice a year, during the salmon runs, the spit is overrun with fishermen.

On the north side of the Klamath, at Requa, is the restored Yurok house and the Indian cemetery. Undoubtedly, service archeologists could clear the area and locate and excavate additional house and sweathouse pits.

Exhibits describing the cultures of the Tolowa, Yurok, and Chi lula should occupy space in the Park Visitor Center. The Indians of the Humboldt Coast were skilled in several crafts, especially basket making. It may be possible to interest the Indians of the nearby Hoopa Reservation in providing craft demonstrations and to fish for salmon, as they would have, in the 19th century. This would be Living History at its best.

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Redwoods and Native American Indian Tribes. Chilula, Yurok

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advertisement Copyright 2009 - 2011 by Mario Vaden. Indian tribes or reservations continue to exist among the Pacific coast redwoods region. But their territory is not as large as it used to be. For example, Redwood National Park is a park now, with hiking trails: not tribe land.

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COMMON NAMES : California juniper desert white cedar

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Juniperus occidentalis was essential to the Northern Paiute and the Pit River who used the plant to make tools, clothes, shelter. They also ate juniper berries and used multiple parts of the plant for medicinal purposes.

Northern Paiute: "The Gidü'tikad used to manufacture a beverage from juniper berries (wa'˙pui). The fruits were picked, broken in the hands, and water added. After a thorough stirring, the pitch rose to the top and was skimmed off with a blade of grass. The beverage was served in individual willow bowls and drunk immediately. Sometimes is was mixed with pounded deer liver to make a "gravy." Juniper berries were never kept any length of time." (Kelly 1932:100)

Northern Paiute:: "Juniper berries were considered by most to be "starvation food."" (Fowler 1989:49)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to the berries of juniper ( Juniperus occidentalis)] W á pui is juniper berries and wápi is juniper. When there was a good growth of juniper, when the berries are big, they are gathered and eaten. The berries are roasted in a parching tray. They are put in warm water and the berries are crushed and the seeds squeezed out with the fingers." (Fowler 1989:50)

Pit River: "Juniper berries (mahuop, Juniperus occidentalis) were eaten fresh and were also dried, pounded into flour, and stored." (Garth 1953:139)

Pit River: "[In regards to the Hammawi] [Berries from the higher lands were collected]: salmon berries, bear berries, juniper berries; with the wild plum and wild buckwheat. All these could be dried, ground, and stored away for the winter." (Kniffen 1928:305)
As medicine
Northern Paiute: "There is a large series of cold remedies....Leaves of young sage and juniper were boiled, either separately or mixed. The brewed leaves were used as a compress and tea drunk for colds, coughs, and sore throat. It was especially good for children and infants." (Kelly 1932:197)

Northern Paiute: "Rheumatism was a common and dreaded ailment, but there were a few remedies...The sweat bath, it was said, helped rheumatism as did also the "hot bed" made of heated stones covered with juniper boughs and blankets." (Kelly 1932:198)

Northern Paiute: "Juniper berries were used medicinally." (Couture et al. 1986:154)

Northern Paiute: "This species of juniper has a wide distribution in Nevada and is the one most commonly encountered. Where the other species coincide in rage with this one it is apparent that the Indians do not always distinguish among them. At any rate the Indian names and the remedial applications are much the same for all the species. With this in mind it is to be assumed that the data presented in this report under Juniperus utahensis can apply equally to J. occidentalis....The Shoshoes and Paiutes are partial to this plant as the basis of cold and cough remedies. Usually a tea is made simply by boiling the young, terminal twigs, but there were some variations, such as...using the boiled berries only...and one report suggested the use of the green fruits...According to one report the leaves were smoked and the fumes inhaled for head colds...or fumes from branches may be inhaled...The decocion of young twigs serves also for a number of other ailments. It is taken internally as a tea for a blood tonic...as a hot tea for hemorrhages...to reduce fevers...for kidney trouble...and for influenza... A plain twig decoction was given for venereal disease...but one remedy was made by boiling the resin of either Pinus monophylla or Abies concolor with the cracked juniper berries. Other external remedies utilizing the twigs were reported. A strong solution of the boiled material was esteemed as an antiseptic wash...for sores..the discomfort of measles is relieved by rubbing heated twigs on the erutpions...The mashed young twigs were made into poultices..for swellings...or the same material when boiled served as a poultice for rheumatism and the cooled solution used as a wash...In a number of settlements the branches (or once the berries only) were burned as a fumigant after illness...The fumes from burning twigs, when inhaled, were believed to clear up headaches and colds...The prepartion of the Indian sweat bath was described by individuals in two localities. In this instance the treatment was recommended for rheumatism or heavy colds. A fire was kept burning in a specially made exavation until the ground became heated. The fire was then raked out and replaced with a layer of young juniper twigs. The patient reclined on top and was covered with blankets to induce sweating...The root of the plant was mentioned but once and in that instance it was said that the dried material was shaved finely and boiled as tea to be taken for venereal disease...The boiled berries were taken as a tea for kidney ailment, and especially to induce urination...The method of preparation, as described in one of these reports, consisted in boiling nine berries in a quart of water. The dose was a half-cupful three to four times a day. In one remedy the green berries were recommended for making the tea...The liquid from the boiled berries had other uses too. The cold tea, in doses of less than a half-cupful a day for a week, was a blood tonic...less than a half-cupful was given for menstrual cramps...For rheumatism the berries were boiled in a small amount of water and the tea taken several times a day; and the solution was applied also as hot packs to the afflicted parts." (Train et al 1957:62-64)

Pit River: "Juniper (mahuop) berries were chewed raw to cure a cold. If there were no berries, the leaves and bark were boiled to make a kind of tea and the mixture was drunk." (Garth 1953:141)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to porcupine-quill decoration] All agreed that the quills were dyed yellow by being boiled with a lichen ( Evernia vulpina) found on dry junipers." (Kelly 1932:107)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to shirts] A fringe was made of porcupine quills...The porcupine quills were boiled with yellow juniper berries. The quills turn yellow." (Fowler 1989:102)

Northern Paiute: "A necklace frequently consisted of alternate beads and juniper berries." (Kelly 1932:117)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to quillwork] The yellow dye is made from the yellow stuff that is found on the bark of the juniper tree." (Fowler 1989:116)

Northern Paiute: "Snowshoes ( sukü) were made in a circle about 12 in. in diameter with a frame of tüabi [serviceberry, Amelanchier alnifolia]. This wood is strong. Also snowshoes were made of juniper." (Fowler 1989:121)

Northern Paiute: "Snowshoes with a round frame are used around Sweetwater. The frame was made of cedar and formed a circle about 14 in. in diameter." (Fowler 1989:121)

Pit River: "Snowshoes (widE) were almost a necessity for winter travel. To make the hoop frame a green juniper limb was heated in a fire and bent into a near circle, the ends being spliced and tied together with rawhide. Cross-lashings were of deer hide with the hair left on." (Garth 1953:148)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to mountain houses] Semi-subterranean houses were not built. The houses in the pinenut country (called kani) were built like the houses in the valleys. They were circular with a frame made of pine branches instead of willows...The poles were tied to the hoop with twisted willow branches or cedar bark...The frame was covered with bark from dead pine or cedar [juniper] trees. Dry pine needles were heaped (great quantities) over the bark to keep it warm...The pine needles were kept from blowing away by putting dry pine boughs over them...There was a covered entranceway...It was covered with bark and pine needles just as the house was covered....GK lived in one of these houses in the mountains above Yerington (Pine Nut Mountains)...The house was built in the mountains after the pinenuts were harvested. The house was built in the pine grove owned by a certain family." (Fowler 1989:93)

Pit River: "Summer camps were little more than circular enclsoures of brush, juniper limbs, or rock, ten or fifteen feet across with an opening on the east side." (Garth 1953:144)

Northern Paiute: "Fish were usually cooked in the ashes of the fireplace, although they could be boiled. They were dried on a rack or hung from the boughs of a juniper, but were never placed near the fire to dry as was meat." (Kelly 1932: 97)

Northern Paiute: "The basketry jar was made watertight with juniper or pine gum put on a flat stick, held over the fire, and then rapidly applied to the exterior. For the inside, four or five small stones were heated and dropped in with some pitch. The container was shaken vigorously until the whole interior was coated." (Kelly 1932:124)

Northern Paiute: "Every man made his own bow (adi; now gun). The Achomawi are said to have used young oak, but the Gidü'tikadü always used juniper." (Kelly 1932:142)

Northern Paiute: "The Gidü'tikadü had the composite fire drill as did their Nevada relatives. The shaft (kudza') was of any kind of wood, the tip (sawa'gudsü) of sagebrush...The hearth (wai) was usually of soft juniper and had "any number of holes," usually two to four..." (Kelly 1932:142)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to arrows] Wing feathers (kwigi) of the sage hen, goose, swan, duck, or crow were split, leaving the very tip intact. They were attached with fish glue or with gum from the juniper or pine." (Kelly 1932:144)

Northern Paiute: "The Paiute saddle (sadó, from saddle) was described as an affair of soft deer or antelope hide stuffed with deer hair. It had no wooden or horn frame. A long loop of 3 1/2-inch deer hide contained the "round" juniper stirrup." (Kelly 1932:148)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to the roots of kogi (sego lily, Calochortus nuttallii; Calochortus leichtlinii)] ...This tuber was found on the hillsides...A digging stick made of a sharpened piece of juniper is used to get the roots and tubers." (Fowler 1989:44)

Northern Paiute: "The bow is made of cedar [i.e., juniper ( Juniperus occidentalis or J. osteosperma)]. A good strong limb of about 4 ft long is split with a rock...A groove is cut across the two edges at each end of the bow for string which is made of wiha [ Apocynum cannabinum]." (Fowler 1989:63)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to bows] Tops of young junipers were taken and split. They are about 2 in. in diameter and about 4 ft long. When it was split it was trimmed down. A bow made from juniper is called wa'adu. Bow made from oak is called wiəadu." (Fowler 1989:63)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to bows] Bows made from juniper were usually 4 or 5 ft long. For smaller game a bow about 3 ft in length was used. Juniper which was often used in making bows was never heated." (Fowler 1989:64)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to bows] Bows were made from young juniper. They were about 3 ft long. The wood was smoothed with a flintknife. The wood was dried for about a month before it was smoothed. The greener the wood the better, they say. If the wood is old it might break." (Fowler 1989:65)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to fire making] The hearth was a flat piece of cedar about 5 in. long...The fire drill point is carried wrapped in a piece of buckskin. It is kept with the flat cedar hearth in the arrow quiver. Fine sagebrush bark for tinder was also carried." (Fowler 1989:75-77)

Northern Paiute: "A fire was started with sagebrush bark as tinder and sagebrush bark. Then greasewood was used because it did not burn so rapidly. When people were in the mountains, they used whatever wood was available, mostly cedar, and pine if it could be found." (Fowler 1989:77)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to horses and tack] The stirrups ( nadakadu) were made by cutting a flat piece of juniper and bending it in the shape of a horseshoe. Buckskin was tied across the ends." (Fowler 1989:121)

Pit River: "Food storage in trees was especially popular in the eastern area. In the higher branches of a juniper tree, comparatively free of lower limbs, a platform about ten feet square was built of poles and slabs of bark tied together with serviceberry withes. The bark often had to be carried a long distance, since pine trees were rare in the Apwaruge area...To prevent mice from climbing the tree, bark was stripped from the lower trunk to make it smooth...In the western area the base of a small tree used for storage was blazed around so that pitch would accumulate and prevent ants from climbing the tree." (Garth 1953:140)

Pit River: "A third class of basketry was the utility ware, which was necessarily of stronger materials and coarser (often openwork) weave. To this class belong the scoop-shaped fishing and root-cleaning baskets (kopwar), carrying and storage baskets (honor), fish traps (stoho), cradles, and seed beaters (tĭpwĭrohai)...The most common and strongest material for construction was juniper (mahuawop), but willows might also be used for the warp, and occasionally pine-root served as a weft. Juniper limbs with few branches were roasted on hot coals and were split into squarish strands about three feet long." (Garth 1953:150)

Pit River: "A fire drill (yodiqhdi) about two feet long of sagebrush, buckeye, or cedar was used on a juniper-wood hearth (westicis) in which there might be as manay as six drill holes. The fire maker, usually a man, placed mixed powdered-grass and juniper-bark tinder near the drill hole and rotated the drill between his hands...Hunters often carried a slow match (yololi) of shredded juniper bark tied in a slender bundle about a foot long." (Garth 1953:155)

Pit River: "[In regards to sinew-backed wooden bows] Young juniper ued for bow; burnt or split; smoothed with pumice." (Voegelin 1942:191)

Pit River: "[In regards to food wrapped and hung from trees to store it] Food, hides hung up in branches of junipers; popular method of storage." (Voegelin 1942:180)

Pit River: "[In regards to bows] Generally used; made of white juniper. "Some men try to put sinew backing on these bows, but sinew always peels off."" (Voegelin 1942:190)

Klamath: " The common red cedar of the region, often made into bows for boys, rarely in former days into those used by men, the yew being much superior." (Coville 1897:88)

Klamath: "There are several forms of rigid baskets made with willow or other sticks, particularly the conical burden basket which was used largely in gathering foods such as wild plums; and the flat, more or less triangular, openwork basket with a handle, used as a sieve and as a grater as well as a general receptacle.....In addition to being made of round willow stems, these baskets are also made of the split roots of the juniper." (Barrett 1910:256)

Northern Paiute: "Two-ply string was made from the inner bark of sagebrush. Juniper bark was not used; "it was too soft to be good for anything."" (Kelly 1932:135)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to birth] A "hot bed" (dü'avida; also nadü'nai?) was previously prepared by the woman's mother or grandmother. It consisted of a large hole containing holes upon which juniper boughs had been stacked, and a blanket was thrown over the whole." (Kelly 1932:159)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to the drum] The frame was chokecherry, although juniper is more usual." (Kelly 1932:147)

Northern Paiute: "The bullroarer (kwi'mo, tüsa'ibidun (?)) was a boy's toy as well as a magical device to make the wind blow. It was made of juniper and decorated with black spots or lines." (Kelly 1932:177)

Northern Paiute: "In the old days they tried to bring wind to melt the snow. They used a piece of juniper where the lightning had broken it off." (Kelly 1932:202)

Northern Paiute: "Porcupine (zagwü'd) was hunted in the junipers in summer. Sometimes at night a hunter attracted the animal by bearing a torch of juniper or sagebrush." (Kelly 1932:87)

Northern Paiute: "There are two kinds of edible rats, "tika'wa, which lives under the junipers, and ka'˙wa, which is smaller and lives under small rocks, but not in the hills."" (Kelly 1932:89)

Northern Paiute: "A number of wild plant species are tolerated, encouraged, or even transplanted to yards and fields on the reservation...Those encouraged or tolerated include willow, red-osier dogwood, balsamroot, blazing star, giant wild rye, juniper, bulrush, cattail, biscuitroot, and wild onion." (Couture et al. 1986:157)

Northern Paiute: "[In regards to tattoos] Greasewood or cedar [juniper] was burned to charcoal. This was mixed with water until the mixture was very thin." (Fowler 1989:111)

Pit River: "Sometimes the Apwaruge are called mahuopanī, juniper-tree-people, a name that reflects the dry and barren nature of their territory." (Garth 153:129)

Pit River: "[In regards to skin dressing] To smoke the buckskin a fire of moist rotten logs or green juniper boughs was made in a shallow pit, over which a dome-shaped framework three or four feet high was constructed of willow wands. The skin was laid on this frame to smoke and was turned from time to time during the process." (Garth 1953:147)

Pit River: "A boy was trained by his father or a close relative, who might make a small self bow of juniper wood and teach the boy how to hunt with it." (Garth 1953:160)

Pit River: "[In regards to the power quest] After the quest the boy gave away the first of each species of animal that he killed, that is, the first deer, the first quail. Then once each spring, before he could eat epos roots, he had to take a lighted torch of juniper bark and run up a tall hill with it, lighting a series of fires as he went. At the top he built a big fire." (Garth 1953:162)

Pit River: "[In regards to mourning] Although the earth lodge might be burned if the owner or his wife died, it was usually abandoned for a year or so, after it had been fumigated with burning juniper branches to drive out the disease and after the two main roof beams (But'hema) had been coated with pitch." (Garth 1953:166)

Pit River: "Drums (wapumas or wohkoras ?) were used by the Apwaruge but not by the Atsuge...The frame was made from a plat piece of juniper about two inches wide. The ends were notched so that they could be tied together when the piece was bent into a hoop. This hoop, about two feet in diameter, was covered with wet rawhide which tightened as it dried." (Garth 1953:172)

Pit River: "To the north of the Pit lies the high, dry lava county. It contain a few springs, and there is an abundance of timber ranging from the yellow pine and fir of the west to the sparser juniper of the east." (Kniffen 1928:300)

Pit River, Klamath: "[In regards to the purification of the house with aromatic plants after a person's death] Juniper." (Voegelin 1942:231)

Pit River: "[In regards to plant substance stuffed in a girl's nostrils during a girl's puberty ceremony] Juniper." (Voegelin 1942:218)

Klamath: "While little girls are beginning to play in this way, boys of the same age become interested in the use of the bow and arrow. At first they play with a tiny bow of willow, little more than a toy, which they learn to make form an older boy or from their father. But by the time a boy is six or seven his father presents him with a real bow made from juniper." (Pearsall 1950:343)

Klamath: "Some children start to use paddles by themselves, too. Adults see them trying to do so and tell them how to kneel in the bottom and dip the paddle in and out of the water without splashing. Light cedar paddles are used, and small ones are made for children." (Pearsall 1950:348)

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Juniperus occidentalis was essential to the Northern Paiute and the Pit River who used the plant to make tools, clothes, shelter. They also ate juniper berries and used multiple parts of the plant for medicinal purposes. Northern Paiute: "The Gidü'tikad used to manufacture a beverage from juniper berries (wa'˙pui).

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Eleven thousand years ago Clovis mammoth hunters ranged over North American and left a record of the knapper's art in beautifully fluted spearheads, no two exactly the same. What followed Clovis and the later bison hunting Folsom tradition was much cruder, yet even these points were often well crafted and certainly functional and a pleasure to view. After the passing of the big game and the Paleo-Indian, distinctive regional cultures took form. In California it was the San Dieguito.

Malcolm Rogers made endless treks into the California deserts in search of the remains of these ancient people and discovered what was left after perhaps ten thousand years of exposure to sun, wind and rain -- rocks. Most the material culture had long since vanished. But the rocks told a story. The earliest San Dieguito preferred andesite as their medium, a volcanic rock less smooth in texture than obsidian or even flint. From this they made not mold-perfect points but crudely chipped choppers and spearheads, rough knives and percussion cracked tools whose flat surfaces resembled planes for cutting, shaving or smoothing wood or scraping hides or freeing the fiber from agave. The San Dieguito percussion-flaked stone stands in sharp contrast to the painstaking regularity of much pressure-flaked work which, though technically of the highest caliber and virtuosity, too often looks almost factory plastic and lacks the character of the ancient artifacts. It may have something to do with respect for the stone itself. The earliest San Dieguito did not use the refined pressure flaking technique at all, apparently, but simply banged stone against stone and thereby produced useful tools for millennia. Naturally fractured rock, direct and indirect percussion, pressure flaking and heat treatment -- Native Californians would in later times exploit all the wisdom of the flint knapper's art.
Unworked Rock
Rock can be surprisingly useful and beautiful just as it is. For the Miwok of the Sierra Nevada, a naturally fractured rock became a simple knife. Barrett and Gifford recorded they employed these unworked pieces to hack off hazel branches and cut maple shoots or roughly trim down a cedar bough for a bow. A simple unworked flake struck from a flint core served to scrape split maple withes for basketry or to finish the smoothing of the bow.
Percussion Technology
By the time ethnographers began asking questions, the art of flint knapping had pretty much been lost. With the great influx of Europeans and European-style goods to California in the middle of the last century, the Indian quickly replaced his stone knife with a steel blade. The accounts of flint knappng are few. Fortunately, Saxton Pope obtained some information in the early years of this century from Ishi, last of the Yahi, on the old stone-working technique.

For arrow points the Yahi used bone, flint, or obsidian, especially the latter, which was widely traded among the Indians of California. As a first step the obsidian boulder was simply shattered by throwing another rock against it. Ishi next selected one of the pieces and from it broke off large flakes in the following fashion: holding a short segment of antler or bone at a slight angle from the perpendicular against a projecting surface, he struck the top of the antler smartly with another stone and a flake would dislodge.

Flint knappers know that some stones break more evenly than others. Stones such as flint and obsidian are among the best. Moderns knappers know this is true because of the nature of the crystalline structure. Obsidian has no crystal structure. Like a fluid, applied force spreads equally in all directions, radiating like a cone with the apex at the point of impact. Rippling down and outward, the ripples actually can be seen on pieces struck from obsidian -- waves of compression in the cone of force rending the rock. Flint, on the other hand, has a cryptocrystalline structure but it is so small and fine it behaves almost like obsidian when struck with an object. Lack of large crystallized structure means that when the stone is fractured, the form of the fracture depends more on how it is struck (giving the craftsman the control) than on inherent but unpredictable structure in the stone. Both flint and obsidian and other good flint knapping materials, such as chalcedony, chert, andesite and jasper, have this vitreous (glass-like) quality and, like glass, are rich in silica. For knapping, materials must also be elastic and homogeneous. They must have the ability to snap back and be free of impurities.

Good stone breaks like glass: a direct perpendicular hit to a flat surface creates a cone of force spreading out in obtuse angles from the line of force, causing a small conical pyramid to break away, as when a bullet strikes a window. All flint knappers, ancient and modern, know instinctively from endless trial and error how fine stone breaks. The basic theory holds true for direct percussion (stone against stone), indirect (bone or another object held against stone and then struck) and pressure flaking. In order to take a thin and useful flake from a projecting surface, or platform, the blunt tip of a section of antler must be held against its edge at an angle tilting away from the vertical cliff wall beneath (which hopefully will break away and become the flake). The antler tine tilts so an edge of its imagined cone of force passes just under the vertical face of the cliff below. The antler punch is also positioned in line with a ridge on the cliff wall to make a long flake. A rounded stone about the size of a fist strikes the antler smartly. A tentative weak hit will only crumble the rock or cause a step fracture (terminating the flake too soon with a right angle break) and will not produce a long sheer flake. Too hard and the rock shatters. Step fractures can also result from too straight an angle of force, not following ridges (on the cliff wall) or improper preparation of the striking platform (it may need grinding with sandstone). Hinge fractures, a blade with a premature rounded blunt break, occur when the platform forms an angle greater than 90 degrees with its cliff wall.

The Chumash, recorded Henry Henshaw in the last century, placed the flint in the cleft of a large stone to steady it while a very hard obtusely pointed pebble of agate was held against it and struck a quick tap with a quartz rock. In this way they made knives and arrowheads.

Direct percussion requires greater skill than indirect. A deft blow with the hammerstone or a baton of thick antler is struck directly against the edge of another stone held in the hand or on the leg. It is not as accurate or reliable and the flakes produced tend to be less straight or uniform. However, direct percussion requires fewer parts, and in that sense is simpler. It was probably the only method used by the San Dieguito. Through direct percussion large broken pieces could quickly be roughed into bifaces with the shape of a crude hand ax and they could be used as such. They were convenient forms to transport and from the two roughly chipped sides useful smaller flakes could be struck as needed. Direct percussion with a hammerstone could also rough out platform cores, spearheads, knives, and arrow points. In the early 1870s Stephen Powers observed the Wiyot shaping an arrowhead in this way.

Many hammerstones used in direct percussion have been found in California archaeological contexts. They tend to be about the size of a fist, hard and compact, with wear marks indicating their use as hammerstones. Theodora Kroeber writes that for a hammerstone, Ishi was accustomed to using a water-worn boulder of heavy stone. the size and shape fit his hand well. He used it for indirect percussion against a blunt-ended piece of strong bone to remove flake after flake from an obsidian core -- long flakes for large spear points or knife blades. The core itself could be fashioned into a tool. But the hammerstone brought directly against the obsidian mass -- direct percussion -- produced smaller flakes from which Ishi made arrow points.

One hundred years ago Cephas Bard wrote of the Chumash: "Within the recollection of early American settlers now living, these natives have been known to flake off a piece of obsidian with an indescribable motion of their hands, and to dexterously sharpen its edge so that it would almost cut a hair" (Hudson and Blackburn, 1987). Undoubtedly, Bard referred to direct percussion, breaking a flake from a chunk of obsidian with a hammerstone, and refining a through the technique known as pressure flaking.

Indirect percussion as practiced by the Wintuns, from firsthand account of Redding (Holmes, 1891).

Direct percussion angle for a desirable shear "feather flake."

Continued

The article is from the book, entitled "Survival Skills of Native California" (ISBN 0-87905-921-4), by Paul Douglas Campbell. Permission to use the article on the PrimitiveWays website was given by Mr. Campbell. Paul Campbell can be contacted through his publisher, Gibbs Smith, P.O. Box 667, Layton, Utah 84041.

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We hope the information on the PrimitiveWays website is both instructional and enjoyable. Understand that no warranty or guarantee is included. We expect adults to act responsibly and children to be supervised by a responsible adult. If you use the information on this site to create your own projects or if you try techniques described on PrimitiveWays, behave in accordance with applicable laws, and think about the sustainability of natural resources. Using tools or techniques described on PrimitiveWays can be dangerous with exposure to heavy, sharp or pointed objects, fire, stone tools and hazards present in outdoor settings. Without proper care and caution, or if done incorrectly, there is a risk of property damage, personal injury or even death. So, be advised: Anyone using any information provided on the PrimitiveWays website assumes responsibility for using proper care and caution to protect property, the life, health and safety of himself or herself and all others. He or she expressly assumes all risk of harm or damage to all persons or property proximately caused by the use of this information.
© PrimitiveWays 2013

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Eleven thousand years ago Clovis mammoth hunters ranged over North American and left a record of the knapper's art in beautifully fluted spearheads, no two exactly the same. What followed Clovis and the later bison hunting Folsom tradition was much cruder, yet even these points were often well crafted and certainly functional and a pleasure to view.

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"Man your backpack is heavy. What's in here, rocks?"- My brother

The ground at the source is literally obsidian gravels, cobbles, and nodules barely separated by clay soils. It is truly a sight to behold.

As I have noted before, it is of the utmost importance that traditional technologies enthusiasts leave artifacts where they are! As an archaeologist I have the ethical obligation to explain to my readers that by removing a single artifact from an archaeological/cultural site one also takes away vital information that can be gained concerning subsistence, trade and exchange, temporal context, and much much more!

If you intend to gather lithic raw material for flintknapping, please only gather from designated quarries with a permit or road cuts where the stone can be found with 100% of its surface covered with its natural weathered rind - cortex. Also, be warned if you are an artifact hunter/looter, it is absolutely illegal to collect artifacts on state or federal land! And yes you can get jail time!

I also shot a squirrel with my .22 cal pistol which I promptly fried up with a slab of bacon fat for lunch. It would have been the envy of most any hobo alive...quite delicious!

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Searching for Stone: Foraging and Flintknapping in Northern CA

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"Man your backpack is heavy. What's in here, rocks?"- My brother The ground at the source is literally obsidian gravels, cobbles, and nodules barely separated by clay soils. It is truly a sight to behold. As I have noted before, it is of the utmost importance that traditional technologies enthusiasts leave artifacts where they are!

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California Rainbow Obsidian Is a Natural Wonder (Photos)

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The four mines - Pink Lady, Lassen Creek Rainbow, Needles and Middle Fork Davis Creek - are all located within a few miles of US Hwy 395 in northeast California.

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If you chose to watch a video, use closed captioning or keep it very low.

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Beginning with baskets

It was 1984 when she began working to revive some of their practices, beginning with Ohlone basket weaving, examples of which were hard to find because Ohlone traditionally burned the belongings of those who had died. The few dozen baskets known to exist worldwide had been acquired during the Mission Period by early visitors to California's Central Coast. So Yamane traveled to museums in California, New York City, Washington D.C., London and Paris to study the old baskets in those collections.

"I'm a person who makes things with my hands, so it was natural for me to be interested in tangible objects, and learn about these various old-time technologies," she says. So far, Yamane has created 24 baskets, as well as feather dance capes and headdresses, ear ornaments, abalone necklaces, musical instruments and of course, boats.

Her introduction to tule boat-making occurred in 1987 as part of a group effort at Coyote Hills Regional Park in Fremont. As they worked, she took photos, drew sketches and made notes about the laborious process.

Fifteen productive years went by, during which Yamane began learning the Rumsien Ohlone language and traditional songs. Through further research, she came across a number of traditional stories, some of which she compiled in two published volumes: When the World Ended, How Hummingbird Got Fire, How People Were Made (Oyate, 1995) and The Snake That Lived in the Santa Cruz Mountains & Other Ohlone Stories (1998 Oyate).

Then, one day in 2002, she decided she wanted to make a tule reed boat. "So I got out those old notes and said, 'Oh yeah, now I remember!''' Yamane recalls.

Her initial attempts were awkward, she admits, and not as sophisticated as the ones that later became mainstays in museums. But boat after boat, her skills improved, and she has now produced 30, several of them commissioned by museums and visitor centers in the Monterey and San Francisco Bay Areas and Sacramento. (The de Saisset model is constructed to hold just one or two people, but larger ones could hold four or more passengers.)

"The process can be overwhelming, to be honest. It's a lot of physical labor to harvest, transport and dry all the raw plant material," says the active 70-year-old. "It's a lot of work, and I'm not getting any younger."

"It's a graceful, elegant design, but with raw and spontaneous natural elements that come through," says Baines of the final product.

At the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Yamane's tule reed boats are actually deployed in the water during the site's popular outdoor summer program, "Turning the Tide," in which performers paddle Yamane's crafts around the site's Great Tide Pool before amazed tourists.

But when the program first began several years ago, the boats didn't fare well after being left in the water for week after week without having a chance to dry in between use. Over time, water soaks into the boat's interior and the moisture is unable to evaporate, leading to mold and mildew and a distorted size. The boats swelled to an estimated 750 pounds and required a small crane to lift them out of the water.

"The first boat was so heavy that the crane's engine was overloaded and shut down," recalls Yamane.

The second year, the aquarium asked Yamane if she could adapt the traditional design to the aquarium's needs, and wondered if she could build the boat onto a substructure that wouldn't absorb water. That would avoid the waterlogging problems of the first year.

They were still exploring solutions when a team member noticed some inexpensive surfboards for sale at Costco and wondered if the boards could be the answer. Yamane took a look, did some thinking, and came up with an idea that worked.

She figured out how to build a tule reed boat right onto the surfboard, which substitutes for the largest bundles that provide most of the buoyancy and weight of the boat.

"You can't see it when the boat is in use," she says, "but it eliminates a huge amount of plant material that would normally absorb water. It really helps."

Yamane's tule reed boat, among other Native American artifacts at the de Saisset's new history exhibition, should also help visitors of all ages learn more about the Golden State's imperfect past.

"I hope that the things I make will help visitors to consider and appreciate the experience of Ohlone peoples, how they lived in the past, and that we are still living and thriving here today," says Yamane.

As for the Ohlone community itself, she believes her work "has brought knowledge and a feeling of cultural pride to at least some," she says, "and can potentially help heal the wounds we have experienced through the traumatic events of history and the cultural loss that followed."
Linda Yamane's tule reed boat, along with several baskets and soap roots brushes commissioned for Santa Clara University's de Saisset Museum, will go on permanent display as part of the museum's renovated California history exhibition, "California Stories from Thámien to Santa Clara," which will open in January 2020.

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For thousands of years, indigenous peoples throughout the current-day Bay Area used tule reeds to create a range of tools, clothing, and equipment, including variations of reed boats, mostly used for fishing and transportation. While some of these traditions faded away as California's Native Americans experienced the effects of colonization, Ohlone native and scholar Linda [...]

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Tima Link, when she describes herself, says: "I'm not just a basket weaver, I'm a weaver." In addition to baskets, she weaves cordage, nets, baby cradles, headdresses, bow strings, houses, and boats. Her words stuck with me when thinking about California Indian material culture, and how important one singular plant can be. This thought prompted a discussion between Tima and myself about an essential plant in Native California: tule.

Tule (pronounced too-lee) is one of those fascinating plants that has been a part of California Indian culture for millennia. It is one of the most versatile plants in California, and multiple species grow in different environmental regions. Two major species in California are the common tule ( Schoenoplectus acutus) and California bulrush ( Schoenoplectus californicus). In addition to Native North America, tule and its relatives are used around the world.

See how basketweaving becomes an essential part of Native American life and creativity on "Artbound" S9 E8: The Art of Basketweaving. Watch now.

Tule is related to papyrus, one of the most famous plants worldwide due to its use by the ancient Egyptians. Early surveyors to California lauded the potential of tule for paper products, due to its similarity to papyrus. The industry never took off, to the benefit of the plant, but those early accounts reveal the richness of the resource two centuries ago. Tule also thrives in South America. Indigenous communities in Peru, for example, have constructed boats out of tule for thousands of years. Today, artisans on Isla Del Sol in Lake Titicaca, among other places, still continue this practice.

Prior to contact, Native peoples across the land we now call California used tule to make houses, clothing, mats, baskets, and tools. Tule can be used to make a variety of baskets, from incredibly finely woven water bottles to rougher, open weave sifting baskets. Women from the various Chumash communities and other coastal peoples traditionally wore skirts made of tule. They would slice triangular bulrush into strips, forming them into skirts. Tima Link emphasizes the length of time it takes to process the materials and the amount of work it takes to produce one skirt.

Some communities use tule for baby cradles, and others for more unusual objects like the duck decoys traditionally used in the Sierras. These tule decoys would lure fellow waterfowl to a particular area, making them more accessible to hunters.

Kumeyaay cultural educator Stan Rodriguez recounts that his people, whose ancestral territory includes what is now San Diego, used to hunt whales in tule boats. Tongva and Chumash peoples used asphaltum as a caulking material for tule boats. Tongva artist L. Frank recently built a tule boat for Northwest Journeys, an annual intertribal event in Washington state where Native communities come together to build and sail traditional vessels. Tima relays that L. said that one of the best caulking methods was to use asphaltum mixed with tule piths. It makes the adhesive more flexible, allowing the boat to move in the water without cracking.

Tule used to thrive all over California. Essentially, as long as there was a waterway, there was tule. Tule can grow in any type of freshwater-along rivers, lakes, and estuaries, both near the coast and inland. Prior to contact, huge tule fields spanned the state. There used to be a large tule field in the center of Santa Barbara, which the Schmuwich Chumash called Kaswa' (place of the tule). Early photographs from the turn of the twentieth century reveal tule fields in Pomo territory near Clear Lake; community members used those tules to build traditional dwellings. The Pomo tribes still hold an annual boat festival on Clear Lake every July; community members say the tule there is not doing very well.

As a water-loving plant, tule has faced a multitude of threats due to drastic landscape changes over the past two centuries. For example, the former Tulare Lake in Central California, was named for the rows of tule plants that lined its shores. This lake used to be the largest freshwater body of water in California, home to tule elk (also named after the plant, one of the elk's primary food sources), waterfowl, fish, and mussels. By the 1930s the lake had completely dried up, due to the conversion of land for agriculture and ranching in the Central Valley. The loss of Tulare Lake severely impacted the cultural traditions of the Yokuts peoples, who have lived in that area for thousands of years.

Tulare Lake is just one example. Across the state, most places where tule thrived have been developed. Areas where tules were once plentiful have now almost completely disappeared. The remaining areas of tule fields are often on land owned by state or federal parks, or by conservancies. In the few places where one can find tule, it is often difficult to access. Some of the few places that tule grows in anymore are undesirable, hard to reach spots, such as in steep ravines. Another huge environmental factor affecting tule is drought, which impacts tule even more significantly than other plants because it needs standing water to live in.

The health of the water also impacts tule. Although tule is mostly used as a building material, it is also a traditional food source. Native California peoples ate the white tuber portion of the root that goes down into the water. Today, the water that tule grows in is often stagnant and polluted. Tima laments the fact that she has never tasted tule because she doesn't feel comfortable harvesting tule roots from the water they grow in. Of the state's remaining tule fields, many are filled with garbage and sometimes inhabited by the homeless, who out of necessity pollute the water with excrement and waste.

Today, the types of cultural items people can make out of tule are being restricted by scarcity. Tima recounts that a decade ago it was still possible to easily gather enough tule to build a traditional house or a traditional boat. The tule plants were tall enough, green enough, and abundant enough. Now, the remaining tule is often too short and dried out. It is still possible to make items like baskets and mats, but a lot more difficult to make boats or houses.

Tule is just one example of how cultural activities are starting to disappear because of environmental change. A century ago, cultural traditions were disappearing for a different set of reasons. Native people across California suffered devastating population losses due to the mission system, the Gold Rush, and the targeted extermination efforts of the 19 th century. Many who survived this genocide were then part of the boarding school era, where children were forbidden to speak their languages and practice their cultural traditions. Tima reflects that one hundred years ago, cultural practices disappeared because there weren't enough people. Today the people have rebounded, but natural resources are now under pressure.

In response to these environmental pressures, community members are joining forces to help repair the health of tule in California. For example, many of the Southern California tribes have a strong working relationship with the University of California, Irvine. Biologists at the university are currently restoring a huge tule field on the campus, and are working with tribes to monitor the health of the field. The biologists look at factors that might be impacting the fields, such as monitoring blackbird nesting patterns, and in turn the tribal members keep an eye on the health of the plants, inspecting them for rot issues and other problems. Tima herself has developed an assessment form to monitor the plants, and teaches tending practices, applying her traditional ecological knowledge. Other similar collaborative partnerships also exist between tribes and conservancies and federal parks.

Tima, along with other community members, hopes to raise awareness about the plight of this culturally significant, versatile plant. She has a very real fear that the traditions of making cultural items from tule will completely disappear. For her community, the loss of tule would be a huge blow to tradition. When wrapping up our conversation, she asked the question: "what if Christmas trees weren't doing well and no one could ever have a Christmas tree again?"

To me, that's definitely food for thought on how we view our plants, our natural environment, and our connection to them. I hope it doesn't come to that.
Banner: Contemporary tule gathering, photograph courtesy of Tima Link
Co-produced by KCETLink and the Autry Museum of the American West, the Tending the Wild series is presented in association with the Autry's groundbreaking California Continued exhibition.

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Tules: Weaving Baskets, Boats, Decoys, and Houses

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Tima Link, when she describes herself, says: "I'm not just a basket weaver, I'm a weaver." In addition to baskets, she weaves cordage, nets, baby cradles, headdresses, bow strings, houses, and boats. Her words stuck with me when thinking about California Indian material culture, and how important one singular plant can be.

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Taxonomy & Nomenclature

Class: Mammalia

Order: Artiodactyla

Family: Cervidae

Scientific name: Cervus elaphus nannodes

Common name: Tule elk

Description & Identification Aides

There are three species of elk that exist in California; Roosevelt ( Cervus elaphus roosevelti), Rocky Mountain ( Cervus elaphus nelsoni), and Tule ( Cervus elaphus nannodes) elk. The Tule Elk are the smallest of all the elk species in North America and they are endemic to California. Given this, location and size are the easiest way to differentiate between the species. The adult bulls have an average weight of 450-700 lbs., with some topping the scales at over 800 lbs. The adult cows average 375-425 lbs. The yearlings (spike bulls) average about the same weight as the adult females (Hobbs 2007, McCullough, 1969). The coats are light, buffy beige with a darker brown long haired mane circling the necks of both the males and females. The calves are similar to deer fawns, with a light brown spotted coat. All animals display a prominent white rump. They average 7 feet in length and stand 4-5 feet in height at the shoulder. The male yearlings are also known as spikes, during their first year of antler growth they only have one antler that is very thin and spindly compared to the large racks that the dominant males demonstrate. The females do not have antlers and the males drop theirs annually which re-grow a little larger with more tines as they age (Kanewske, 2000).

Tule elk are endemic to California and the most specialized elk in North America, given that they live in open country under semi-desert conditions, whereas the species as a whole typically occupies temperate climates and utilizes heavy cover at least seasonally (McCullough, 1969). In its historic range, the tule elk once occupied much of the central state. Their range spanned east of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada west to the coast line and north from the headwaters of the Sacramento River south to the Tehachapi Mountains. The variation in climate and topography illustrate the great adaptability of the tule elk (Phillips, 1976). Accounts in journals and diaries of early explorers indicate that approximately 500,000 tule elk inhabited the State. Between 1800 and 1840 hide and tallow hunters took large numbers of elk. From 1840 to 1849 southern Sacramento began to see a reduction in elk numbers due to increasing settlement and the gold rush. Market hunters then further reduced elk numbers and by 1870 only a few elk remained in the Buena Vista Lake area. DNA evidence indicates the tule elk numbers could have been as low as a single pair or a small number (2-4) of closely related individuals. In 1873 a law was passed to fully protect tule elk, although at that time it was unclear if any even remained. A rancher named Henry Miller realized the importance of this animal and diligently protected the last remaining tule elk (McCullough 1969).

By the turn of the century, the population of elk on the Miller-Lux Ranch had expanded and was causing extensive damage to fences, crops, and irrigated pasture. Miller requested the elk be relocated in an effort to reduce his damages. Over the next few years, the U.S. Biological Survey attempted to relocate tule elk via the "rodeo technique" (ropes and horseback). This technique was not very productive. In fact, the majority of the elk were killed during capture attempts or during transport to the release sites. Only one relocation attempt was considered partially successful when 21 elk were relocated to the Sequoia National Park. However, they died out by 1926. By 1914 tule elk were causing $5,000-$10,000 damage per year on the Miller-Lux Ranch (McCullough 1969). At this time, the California Academy of Science took over the tule elk relocation effort. The Academy was much more successful in capturing tule elk because they baited elk into a corral trap instead of attempting to capture them from horseback. During the period from 1914 to 1934, the Academy relocated 235 tule elk to 22 different locations, including Cache Creek and the Owens Valley. As was the case with the earlier relocation attempts by the U.S. Biological Survey, the majority of the relocation projects were unsuccessful. Tule elk at Cache Creek were allowed to expand their range and, until the summer of 1986, did not cause significant damage to private property. At the Tupman Tule Elk Reserve, elk were confined to a 953-acre enclosure, no mechanisms for population control were used, and the herd expanded to a point where the habitat was essentially destroyed and artificial feeding was necessary. This situation was greatly improved as a result of reducing the population by moving tule elk to other sites. In addition, the California Department of Parks and Recreation has undertaken numerous habitat improvement projects. In an effort to reduce damage to the improved habitat, the Department of Fish and Game has held the herd size at 30-35 individuals by periodically relocating surplus elk (California Department of Fish and Game, 1994). Currently there are approximately 5,700 tule elk throughout California in numerous herds.

Like any other creature elk require food, water, and cover. McCullough (1969) found that annual forbs are extremely important in spring and early summer. Annual and perennial grasses are eaten by tule elk throughout the year. Sedges are also eaten (Thomas and Toweill, 1982). Water must be available for drinking by tule elk; groups of tule elk are usually located within four miles of an open water source (Hobbs, 2007). Cover is important to tule elk, primarily for calving. In the La Panza herd elk are usually found out in the open even on the hottest days. While elk in the Cache Creek herd are observed lying down in the shade of oak trees on a regular basis (Hobbs, 2007).

Tule elk are large animals and hence require a good deal of space. But the amount of space required seems to be dependent on the quality of habitat they occupy. Elk on Grizzly Island occupy a relatively small area (less than 8,000 acres) for most of their activities even though they have tens of thousands of more acres available to them. Information gathered from the Department of Fish and Games hunting program indicate that elk on Grizzly Island are the heaviest and healthiest elk herd in the state. While movement patterns from Global Positioning Systems (GPS) collars on Cache Creek show much more extensive use of available areas. Elk at Cache Creek sometimes travel up to 15 miles or more throughout the year to obtain the resources they need (Hobbs, 2007).

Elk are highly social animals, and the herd is the focal point of its existence (McCullough, 1969). Tule elk utilize various portions of their range in response to seasonal variations in food availability (Thomas and Toweill, 1982). McCullough (1969) states that these seasonal movements are not considered migrations; they are local shifts in response to local conditions. The areas used during the summer are not inaccessible because of weather during the winter and the movements are not consistent from herd to herd. He also suggests factors that influence the various movements of the herds. First is the availability of high quality forage. A second factor is the land use by domestic livestock. This factor is dependent on the availability of suitable habitat to which the elk can shift. The third factor is human interference. When disturbed, herds will shift from place to place granted there is suitable forage available. In areas where there is little or no disturbance, the movements become fixed.

Elk are a herding species but the extent of herding can vary by sex and time of year. In the spring the animals can be scattered and the cows can be alone or in small groups while they give birth (Murie, 1951). As soon as the calves are able to walk without too much trouble the cows will usually group back up and travel as a herd with groups ranging from 15-200 (Hobbs, 2007). These groups will usually consist of cows, calves, and young bulls (spikes). Bulls are usually found in smaller groups and many times the larger more mature bulls will be by themselves until the breeding season begins (McCullough, 1969).

The breeding season or rut for tule elk occurs later in the season in much warmer temperatures compared to other elk (Wormer, 1969). The rut usually occurs from August through October. The peak of the rut on Grizzly Island is usually late August to Mid September (Hobbs, 2007). Bugling is the most characteristic act of the bulls rutting behavior. Bugling is a call the bulls make to attract mates. As the rutting season progresses bulls begin to compete for cow herds.

The gestation period is 255 days with most young being born in May and June, but calves have been reported as early as February and March in some areas. Calving usually occurs away from the group in areas with cover such as tall grass or brushy areas and away from disturbance (Zeiner, Laudenslayer, Mayer, and White, 1990). Cows will become sexually mature around the age of two and the calves will usually remain with their mothers to become part of the cow herd (Hobbs, 2007).

McCullough (1969) showed that competition with domestic stock proved to be a minor threat to elk. However, overgrazing or high intensity grazing can leave large areas with no food value for the elk for extended periods of time. Conflicts between ranchers and elk have posed a problem. Elk are an increasingly popular game animal, and management efforts in the last few decades have caused the population to grow. As the numbers increase so does the incidence and intensity of damage to agriculture (deCalesta and Witmer, 1994). Tule elk are an example of genetic bottlenecking. This can lead to minimal variation and can cause the species to become vulnerable to diseases. Modeling of the genetic characteristics of tule elk have indicated that management strategies involving transplants among all tule elk herds appear to be the most beneficial for the maintenance of nuclear variation in this species (Williams, Lundrigan and Rhodes, 2004). Continued human development and encroachment is a threat to tule elk. A large portion of their range is on private property with no permanent protection. In addition, many of the subherds are in close proximity to high value coastal and bay/mountain areas. There is a constant threat of development or subdividing the properties into small ranches. One of the other major threats is habitat degradation and invasive of noxious weeds. Exotic weed species (star thistle) is a large problem for the Cache Creek herd, as it has taken over many acres of otherwise suitable habitat (Hobbs, 2007)

In limited space, a growing elk herd can out grow its environment which leads to overpopulation, habitat destruction, stress, starvation and disease. To prevent these problems or to decrease the occurrence of them, relocation efforts should be maintained (California Department of Fish and Game, 1990). Since they are now protected and managed, continuing to improve and/or sustain suitable habitat as well as possible efforts for new locations should be made. There are only a handful of books and articles written specifically on tule elk. Further current research should also be done to better understand this unique species.

California Department of Fish and Game. 1994. Environmental Document: Tule Elk Hunting. Department of Fish and Game Sacramento office, 1812 9th Street, Sacrmento, CA 95811.

California Department of Fish and Game. 1990. California's Tule Elk. Video cassette.

deCalesta, D.S. and G.W. Witmer. 1994. Prevention and Control of Wildlife Damage.

Hobbs, J. 2007. Personal Communication. 23 April, 2007.

IUCN 2006. 2006 IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. www.iucnredlist.org. Downloaded on 15 April 2007.

Kanewske, R. 2000. www.sfsu.edu. Downloaded 15 April 2007.

McCullough, D.R. 1969. The tule elk, its history, behavior, and ecology. University of California Press.

Murie O.J., 1951. The Elk of North America. The Stackpole Company, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and the Wildlife Management Institute, Washington D.C. 376 pp.

Phillips, W.E. 1976. The Conservation of the California Tule Elk. The University of Alberta Press. 120 pp.

Thomas, J.W., and D.E. Toweill, eds. 1982. Elk of North America: ecology and management. Stockpole Books, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. 698 pp.

Williams, C.L., B. Lundrigan and O.E. Rhodes, Jr. 2004. Journal of Wildlife Management. 68: 109-119.

Van Wormer, J. 1969. The world of the American Elk. J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia and New York. pp.

Zeiner, D.C., Laudenslayer, W.F., Mayer, K.E. & White, M. 1990. California's Wildlife. Volume III: Mammals. Sacramento, California: California Statewide Wildlife Habitat Relationships System, Department of Fish and Game.

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Class: Mammalia Order: Artiodactyla Family: Cervidae Scientific name: Cervus elaphus nannodes Common name: Tule elk There are three species of elk that exist in California; Roosevelt ( Cervus elaphus roosevelti), Rocky Mountain ( Cervus elaphus nelsoni), and Tule ( Cervus elaphus nannodes) elk.

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Tule elk ( Cervus canadensis nannodes), a subspecies of North American elk, is found only in California. The tule is the smallest of North American elk, but elk are still the second largest member of the deer family after the moose. Totaling nearly 4000 head strong, this elk can be seen in several places in Central California and this article tells you where. A previous Photo of the Week selection.

Like many stories of wildlife, the Tule elk is one of habitat destruction and over-hunting resulting in a calamitous population drop. And like some of those other tales, some person or group realizes the foolishness of inaction and saves the day (and the species).

In the case of this elk, the rescuing person happened to be a butcher from San Francisco, Henry Miller. Not just any butcher, Miller built up a meat processing empire that was vertically integrated from pasture to the display case.

In the 1870's Miller was the one person who saved this type of elk from extinction by preserving the few remaining individuals and providing substantial acreage for habitat.

Tule Elk Quick facts:

Meaning of "tule": This refers to a plant native to marshy areas of the elks original habitat.

Size: Males - 450-550 lbs. Females - 375-425 lbs. However, this may be environmental rather than genetic as individuals moved to better grazing areas grow to the size of the other subspecies.

Herd size: 15-200 depending on the time of year

Gestation: 255 days; calving in late spring to early summer

Possible areas to see elk: Carrizo Plains; Bitterwater Road (San Luis Obispo County; Vineyard Canyon Road; Cholame Road (SE of Parkfield); Fort Hunter Liggett which surrounds Mission San Antonio. In the San Joaquin Valley near Buttonwillow, just outside of Central California, is the TuleElk State Natural Reserve where a herd of elk is on a 1000 acre fenced site.

More information: California Department of Fish and Wildlife elk page (opens in a new tab)

Elk seen on the Jack Ranch (Cholame Road)

I recently came across this herd of elk on Cholame Road, just a few miles north of the intersection of Highways 41 and 46 (the same intersection where James Dean lost his life).

I have previously seen herds in this area, but at a greater distance. This was the largest (about 30) that I've spotted.

As mentioned above, Vineyard Canyon Road is another place where elk are sometimes spotted. I once saw a herd of 25 bulls.

The closest encounter I've had was also on this road when an elk calf was wandering along the roadway, seemingly confused and separated from the rest of the herd. I stopped for it (alas, no camera with me) and it must have heard calls from mom as it ran off in a rush.

It was a young calf, but was as big or bigger than any adult mule deer I've seen.

There is no guarantee that you WILL see tule elk along any of these roads, but they are out there wandering the hills and you may just get lucky. That's how it is with wildlife...

Back to: Central California Wildlife from Tule Elk Photo of the Week Archive Discover Central California Homepage

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Tule Elk - Central California's native elk species

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Tule elk ( Cervus canadensis nannodes), a subspecies of North American elk, is found only in California. The tule is the smallest of North American elk, but elk are still the second largest member of the deer family after the moose.

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Native Knowledge 360° | Essential Understandings

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The National Museum of the American Indian’s Native Knowledge 360°: Essential Understandings about American Indians is a framework that allows you to see new possibilities for creating student learning experiences. #NK360

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Student Edition - California Indian Peoples and Management of Natural Resources-pages-23-24

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Student Edition - California Indian Peoples and Management of Natural Resources-pages-25-26

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California Indians and the Land - FoundSF

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Advanced Reading: CA Indian use of Coast Live Oaks

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Advanced Reading: CA Indian use of Coast Live Oaks

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Historical Essay

by Pete Holloran

Josiah Clark on the Coast Live Oaks and other trees along Lobos Creek in San Francisco, 2014

Coast Live Oak in the Presidio, mid-1990s.

Photo: National Park Service

Not far from the edge of a landfill on the Presidio are a few precious Quercus agrifolia ( coast live oaks), potent symbols of life and renewal. When the winter rains come, new leaves emerge and catkins release their pollen to the wind. Later, as spring nears, endosperm fills the bulging acorns. The hummingbirds come then, too, and engage in dazzling courtship displays for each other, building nests in the oaks as early as February.

To the California Indians of the San Francisco peninsula, the coast live oak was more than a symbol. It was perhaps the single most important plant species to the indigenous peoples of San Francisco. They ate acorns, created bowls and utensils from the wood, and started fires with the bark and wood. Medicinal remedies were prepared from oak bark and leaves (Bocek 1984).

Coast Live Oaks along Lobos Creek, January 2019.

Photo: Chris Carlsson

Countless other organisms are equally dependent on coast live oak woodlands, which harbor more wildlife than any other terrestrial plant community in this region. Coast live oaks are host to more species of small moths, for example, than any other species on the San Francisco peninsula (De Benedictis et al. 1990). These moths and the many other invertebrates found on a coast live oak feed a wide variety of birds, including Huttons vireo, which is virtually dependent on the oak--it has been described as the spirit of the live oak tree (Davis 1995). This songbird about the size of your palm--not much bigger than a hummingbird--flits methodically around the oak canopy snapping up caterpillars, weevils, and countless other insects. Its hanging nests, woven from lichens, leaves, and strips of bark and held together with spider silk, have been found in the Presidio's oak woodlands. Its numbers have dramatically declined throughout San Francisco and the Bay Area as oak woodlands have been destroyed by development. Its decline on the Presidio may have begun as early as the late 18th century when the first Europeans arrived and began cutting its oak woodlands to supply firewood for a growing population.

To these Europeans, the oaks were almost an afterthought. On a spring day in 1776 one of the first Europeans to see this land worried more about the lack of tall trees for timber. There is not a tree on all those hills, Father Pedro Font wrote, though the oaks and other trees along the road are not very far away (Bolton 1931). Like the California Indians they displaced, the Spanish and mestizo (people of mixed Spanish/Indian descent from Mexico) soldiers depended on the surrounding land for food, clean water, and shelter. They brought cattle to graze the grasslands, cleared other areas for vegetable gardens, and harvested firewood from the oak groves.

-- excerpted from "Seeing the Trees Through the Forest in the Presidio" in Reclaiming San Francisco (San Francisco: City Lights Books, 1998)

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Historical Essay by Pete Holloran Josiah Clark on the Coast Live Oaks and other trees along Lobos Creek in San Francisco, 2014 Coast Live Oak in the Presidio, mid-1990s. Photo: National Park Service Not far from the edge of a landfill on the Presidio are a few precious Quercus agrifolia ( coast live oaks), potent symbols of life and renewal.

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Advanced Reading: CA Indian & Strawberries

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Advanced Reading: CA Indian & Strawberries

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Indigenous Skies | California Academy of Sciences

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Relearning Ecological Knowledge | California Academy of Sciences

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Two-Eyed Seeing: Science and Traditional Ecological Knowledge | California Academy of Sciences