PORTLAND, Ore. – The title of the 89th annual Ecological Society of America
conference might have been “Lessons of Lewis and Clark: Ecological
Exploration of Inhabited Landscapes”, but the real theme of the August 2004
gathering in Portland was hair. Especially on the men – long hair.

The Indians outdid the Anglos as far as length went, of course. But even
the guys from mainstream society have lots of it. Unruly curls of it,
beards of it, silvered strands of it that went with their Birkenstock
sandals and rumpled khaki trousers and field vests.

Granted, they didn’t have braids, like Shoshone-Bannock storyteller and
published author, Ed Edmo. Nor the length, like Louis Pitt, director of
Government Affairs and Planning with the Confederated Tribes of Warm
Springs, who had his hair tied in back.

But the white guys had enough. Had enough hair to think seriously about not
only ecological issues, but cultural ones. Enough hair to not only listen,
but also, perhaps, to hear.

Not to overdraw the situation. The conference was a huge five-day event,
and only two of the sessions were directly related to the tribes. Still,
there was an unassuming feeling associated with the gathering that gave the
impression people were more receptive to Indian points of view that those
at more run of the mill events.

In particular the session, “Sense of Place: Indigenous Homelands of the
Pacific Northwest”, set the tone. Ed Edmo spoke mostly of Celilo Falls, the
famous Indian fishing and trading center on the Columbia River that was
inundated by water backing up behind The Dalles Dam in 1957.

“I was 11 when they flooded Celilo,” Edmo said. His hands went out and hung
in the air. “The way you have to think about it is how something you’ve
lost has affected you today, and what are you doing to heal.”

“I was angry for a long time … “But I’m not like that any more. People
have the power to change. The question is what will people do to heal this
cultural wound, and what will you do?”

As Edmo pointed out, though, he’s moved beyond hatred. Moved beyond grief
to some extent. Moved beyond the pain he endured as a boy. In his closing
remarks, he invited everyone to Celilo Village.

“I still remember all that from when I was a boy,” he said. “We had the
longhouse and had to be quiet. Everyone talked on and on. And then there
was the salmon feast and everyone was invited. And Halloween weekend, too,
for a pow wow and clown contest. So this Halloween, get on down to Celilo.
Also the second weekend in April for the First Salmon Feast. There’s feasts
every weekend from there to the Umatilla on the fourth as the salmon move
up the river. So you can eat salmon all April on the Columbia if you want
to.”

Louie Pitt, didn’t have Ed Edmo’s literary bent. Instead, the policy
analyst was all business. “Go ahead and feel guilty about the past if you
must,” Pitt addressed the Anglo audience. “But it’s now that I want to
change. We are the people of the land and are the spokesmen for the land.
It’s a land ownership far beyond the usual. We are of the land and in the
land. The one thing you have to know about Native American people is that
we would still be here. We would still hang out in places we call home.
I’ve seen it with tribes that were terminated, and they’ve stayed. We’re
connected to our land. It’s part of who we are.”

Pitt proceeded to line out the details. “The United States, before it was a
country, was very Christian, very Anglo in its approach. And the people
developed laws and tools to steal lands from ‘heathen savages.’ From
‘uncivilized people’ that occupied, but didn’t own the land. Discovery
doctrine – terrible.”

Pitt’s voice was low and gentle, but he had his facts in order and didn’t
pull any punches. “In 1787, the Continental Congress wrote “that the utmost
good faith shall always be observed toward the Indians, and their lands and
property will never be taken,” he quoted. “Still, in the 1859 treaty, the
Warm Springs gave up 10 million acres in return for the way of life they
live today on the reservation. A lot of folks say the United States did a
lot for us, but not really when you look at the record. Our reservation
today is 650,000 acres, and it’s up on the dry east side, away from the
Columbia River.”

Pitt underscored, however, that usufructory rights were retained. He
recited the line from the treaty that has been critical for Northwest
tribes: “retain the exclusive right of fish taken in streams running
through and boring said reservation and at all other usual and accustomed
stations.”

“Very strong,” Pitt said. “This is the deal between the United States of
America and our people. Of course, even back then non-Indians challenged
it. In U.S. v. Winans (1905), though, the courts said that the treaty was
not a grant of rights to the Indians, but a grant of rights from them.”

The Warm Springs people work hard, explained Pitt, to manage their
reservation lands, their forest lands, and their wilderness. They monitor
water quality and use controlled burning to keep wildfires down. Said Pitt,
“We’re not opposed to burning. That’s how the tribes used to manage the
forests, and it worked. The thing is, we have a drought every year, and
it’s called summer. So we burn.”

“The idea,” said Pitt in closing, “is to take care of your neighborhood.

Directly dependent on natural resources, the tribes long understood the
concept of taking care of one’s homeland. The good news is that even in the
21st century as food and the material trappings of culture come more and
more through the marketplace, members of mainstream society, at least the
long-hair types like those attending the ESA this year, are listening. They
are listening and by their attendance, tribal members like Ed Edmo and
Louie Pitt are holding out for hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the white
men would not only listen, they might also hear.