Data center developers often target tribal lands for rich resources and less oversight

The Muscogee (Creek) Nation's Mound building, which houses the National 
Council. (Photo by Amanda Rutland, Muscogee Nation, ZUMA)

Tech companies seeking sprawling lands for hyperscale data centers often zero in on tribal lands. "Companies attempting to construct data centers on Indigenous lands likely see it as an opportunity not just to access large plots of land, but also to use tribal sovereignty to bypass cumbersome state regulations that tribes don’t have to follow," reports Cheyenne McNeill for Mother Jones.

Some generative AI developers may see Native Americans as easy targets to ply with promises of good-paying jobs and improved economics. "Activists say those benefits rarely materialize," McNeill explains. "Instead, data centers bring a threat of land loss and displacement that feels all too familiar for Indigenous people."

According to Honor the Earth, a national organization that "has been leading the fight against data centers, there are currently at least 106 proposed data center projects near or on Native lands," McNeill writes. "In western New York, a proposed $19.46 billion data center project would sit adjacent to the Tonawanda Seneca Nation’s territory, threatening an old forest that tribal citizens use for hunting, fishing, and gathering traditional medicine."

Because many tribes don’t have the "legal codes or regulatory bodies in place yet to regulate utilities," data center operators would have far less oversight during all stages of a build and then after, McNeill explains. "Tribal nations also need to consider whether they will be able to hold companies responsible for harm or depleted resources on their lands and whether they’ll have oversight of data centers."

Money comes into play as well. Data center developers and owners have plenty of it, and tribes often don't, which can make it hard for tribal nations to pursue litigation if developers and owners don't keep their promises.

Activists and tribal leaders want their members to remember that what happens on their land should reflect their tribe's values. McNeill writes, "One of those calls came from James Floyd, the Muscogee Nation’s former Principal Chief, who said every aspect of [his tribe's] data center proposal seemed in opposition to traditional Muscogee values."

The Northern Cheynne Tribe reaches for sovereignty with its buffalo herd and a new solar array that provides energy

The Northern Cheyenne Tribe's buffalo roam on more 15,000 acres
in southeastern Montana. (Photo via The Daily Yonder)

The Northern Cheyenne Reservation in southeastern Montana is home to the Northern Cheyenne tribe, a growing herd of buffalo and a new solar installation that will allow the tribe to expand its buffalo restoration program while providing a better path to tribal food and energy sovereignty. 

The buffalo herd roams on a vast swath of land that covers more than 15,000 acres and "has no transmission lines crossing it, meaning there’s no way to get electricity out to the land unless the electricity is completely off the grid," reports Ilana Newman of The Daily Yonder. "Last year, the Northern Cheyenne buffalo program received a solar array that will allow it to expand the herd and processing capacity of the facility."

Although all Native American tribes are said to be sovereign nations, in practice, many tribes have been forced to rely on the U.S. federal government for some form of support. Newman explains, "But sovereignty is still the goal for every tribal nation. And asserting independence around how they manage their food, health, and energy are some main ways indigenous communities are reclaiming sovereignty."

Bringing back buffalo herds can be key for tribes like the Northern Cheyenne, who have been working on plans to improve tribal members' health while caring for tribal lands. Newman reports, "Tribes and researchers are proving that buffalo are the key to healthier ecosystems and food sovereignty for northern plains tribes."

The Northern Cheyenne's buffalo herd is around 300 head and not cheap to care for; however, the "solar array brings the buffalo program closer to self-sufficiency," Newman writes. "It currently powers a small bunkhouse. . . Starlink internet, and a freezer that holds processed bison meat. It also powers electric fences and gates to keep out intruders."

Even with the buffalo and the solar panels, the Northern Cheyenne must plan carefully. Brandon Small, who runs the buffalo restoration program, told Newman, "We wanted to do it in such a way that we could still get meat processed and donated out to the communities, but still have enough money to keep our operation going and keep growing and expanding."

Tribal lands need broadband to improve health care access, but progress is slow

Shoshone-Bannock tribal lands are vast with a rocky terrain, which poses a challenge in building fiber-optic cable lines for high-speed internet to homes. (Photo by Sarah Jane Tribble, KFF Health News)

The lands of the Shoshone-Bannock Tribes in Idaho span seemingly endless miles. But the beauty of this vast tribal expanse comes with a cost: Profound broadband gaps that limit health care for Native Americans throughout the region. "Tribal members are historically underserved and, on average, live with the highest rates of chronic illnesses and die 6.5 years earlier than the average U.S. resident," reports Sarah Jane Tribble of KFF Health News.

Accessing medical treatment without broadband connectivity presents a range of challenges. Tribal members have to drive to medical appointments because telehealth isn't an option. "Tribal field nurses update charts in paper notebooks at patients’ homes, then drive back to the clinic to pull up records, send orders, or check prescriptions," Tribble writes. Getting care and medicine all takes longer.

All the while, millions in federal dollars have been set aside to address tribal broadband infrastructure. "Three years ago, the Shoshone-Bannock Tribes were awarded more than $22 million during the first round of the federal Tribal Broadband Connectivity Program," Tribble explains. "But tribes that were awarded millions in a second round of funding saw their payments held up under the Trump administration."

Shoshone-Bannock Tribes Broadband Infrastructure Deployment project
(Map by Lydia Zuraw and Sarah Jane Tribble, KFF Health News)

For some tribal members, waiting for fiber isn't an option. Instead, they pay for Starlink, which uses low-earth-orbit satellites and costs between $80 and $120 a month. "For 53-year-old Carol Cervantes Osborne, who lives with constant pain from severe rheumatoid arthritis, having internet is a necessity," Tribble explains. "She signed up for Starlink so that she can connect with doctors remotely through telehealth appointments." 

Despite the wait for broadband and the current lack of care access on their lands, tribal leaders say Starlink is too expensive for most of their members.

This year, the Shoshone-Bannock Tribes started work on their high-speed internet installation, but progress will be slow. "To build fiber-optic cables underground, the tribes must navigate lava rock and work with the Bureau of Indian Affairs to get permits," Tribble explains. "Eventually, the old radio station will be central to operations, with fiber-optic cable lines that web out over about 800 square miles to reach the reservation’s five district lodges."

After pandemic supply troubles left tribes without meat, some decided to invest in their own slaughterhouses

Workers cut steaks at Three Rivers Meat Company, whose majority 
owner is the Choctaw Nation. (Photo by Todd Price, Offrange)

U.S. meat supplies for Indian populations were unreliable during the pandemic, which led at least 18 Native American tribes to invest in building their own slaughterhouses, reports Todd Price for Offrange.

The Osage Nation in northern Oklahoma was one of the first tribes to decide that "they would build their own USDA-inspected meat processing plants," Price explains. Other Oklahoma tribes, including the Cherokee Nation, Choctaw Nation, Miami Nation, and Muscogee Nation, have also invested in their own meat plants.

Before the pandemic, many tribes owned land, raised livestock, or oversaw marine tracks. Following the pandemic-era slaughterhouse closures and meat supply bottlenecks, "Many tribes recognized the urgency of taking control of their food supply so they could always ensure their people would be fed," Price reports. "An estimated 18 tribes now operate plants that process meat and seafood."

Although slaughterhouses are expensive to build and have slim profit margins, Native tribes use "vertical integration" to leverage benefits. Price explains, "They own the animals and then sell the meat to their casinos or food assistance programs. And they do not always define success in dollars like a private business. Bringing good jobs to rural areas and meat to food deserts is part of the goal."

For tribes, being able to raise and process enough food to feed their people isn't just about making sure no one goes hungry. "It is also an important step towards food sovereignty — controlling the food supply and deciding what they will eat," Price reports. "And sovereignty, the power to govern themselves, is a right that tribes have long fought to preserve."

Tribal radio stations in rural Alaska are hubs of culture that may not survive federal cuts

 The Anchorage skyline is dwarfed by the bold Chugach Mountains. The city is surrounded 
by more than five million remote acres. (Photo via Nieman Laboratories)

After Congress voted to pull back billions in funding, tribal radio stations in Alaska are exploring how they can continue to serve Native Americans across a massive state that can routinely lack highways and cell phone service.

Indigenous radio stations are different than those in the lower 48 states. Neel Dhanesha for Nieman Laboratories reports, "While many are part of the NPR and PBS networks, they are mostly staffed by Indigenous reporters and producers and primarily serve audiences in tribal nations around the U.S., many of which lack broadband or cell service."

Loris Taylor, president and CEO of Native Public Media, told Dhanesha, "The information environment in Indian Country is often fragmented, underfunded. . . . Tribal stations fill this gap. Without these stations, many tribal citizens, especially elders, low-income families, and those without broadband, would lose essential access to news and public discourse."

Without federal dollars, some stations are unsure how they will stay afloat to perform basic functions, such as issuing emergency notices for severe weather, AMBER and Missing Endangered Persons alerts. Jaclyn Sallee, president and CEO of KNBA, a tribal radio station in Anchorage, told Dhanesha, "Some stations are very concerned that they won’t be able to operate starting October 1."

Meanwhile, more funding for tribal radio stations may become available through grants from the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Indian Affairs. "BIA will distribute $9.4 million of previously appropriated funding to 35 tribal radio stations in 11 states," Dhanesha reports. "[But] details on the deal are scant."

BIA grants won't solve funding problems for all the remote-serving public radio stations in Alaska, and residents fear what will be lost if cuts are made. Dhanesha explains, "Every person I spoke with emphasized that losing tribal stations would mean losing a key cultural touchstone in Indigenous communities across the country. . . .Tribal stations are trying to figure out the path forward."

Quick hits: Newspaper sitcom; free child care; inspiring cave cleanup; soybean field discovery; dark sky ruminating

Can a sitcom about journalism capture its 'grit, humanity, and relentless optimism'?

Keeping a local newspaper alive is one thing, but revitalizing one staffed with employees who list texting and tweeting as their most recent writing ventures is an entirely different story. Meet Peacock's new mockumentary, "The Paper," which depicts the life and times of the struggling Toledo Truth Teller newspaper and its quirky staff. "Members of the news community weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry," writes Gretchen A. Peck of E&P Magazine. "For publishers and editors. . . the [show] raises big questions: can a sitcom capture the grit, humanity, and relentless optimism of real journalism?" The trailer is here.

New Mexico will be the first state in the union to offer free child care to all its families, regardless of income. "The state has been working to lower child care care costs since 2019, when it created the Early Childhood Education and Care Department," reports Chabeli Carrazana of The 19th. The new policy rollout in November will allow all families access to the state’s child care assistance program without meeting eligibility criteria and will remove any copay requirements. Families are expected to save an average of $12,000 per child.

Hidden River Cave's kaleidoscope-like Sunset
Dome is a popular tourist attraction.

What was once a heavily polluted cave in Horse Cave, Ky., is now a point of community pride and a tourism draw. "For generations, the cave was all but lost to the town on top of it. Miles of caverns and waterways brimmed with sewage that sent a putrid stench up from the depths and across downtown," reports Hiroko Tabuchi of The New York Times. "The restoration of Hidden River Cave is one of the most remarkable examples of a cave cleanup. . . . Last year, 30,000 people, more than 10 times the town’s population, toured the cave."

Some ranchers prefer the beaverslide for stacking hay.
(Photo by Linda Teahon, Offrange)

No need to purchase fancy machinery to stack hay bales -- a beaverslide is much cheaper and simpler to own. "The haystacking device consists of a wide, sliding fork at the base of a ramp and a cable pulley system rigged to the ramp’s underside," explains Katie Hill for Offrange. "Ranchers use a team of horses or a motorized vehicle to pull one of the cables perpendicular to the beaverslide, which in turn hoists the fork up the ramp, bringing a giant pile of hay up with it. . . .At the top of the ramp, the hay falls to the other side, forming three-story piles that can reach 25 tons in weight."

It hadn't been seen or touched by humans for 2,000 years, but this summer, artifact hunter Ben McGhee unearthed the discovery of a lifetime: "A hoard of 51 Native American blades buried in a Missouri soybean field," writes Chris Bennett of Farm Journal. "Based on the location, and the lack of percussion flakes or hammer stones within immediate proximity, McGhee believes the cache was transported to its present location, close to the water’s edge, for trade access." Native Americans traded the blades, which could be more precisely carved into arrowheads.

Glacier National Park is an International Dark Sky Sanctuary. Visitors can see the Milky Way from St. Mary’s Glacier, pictured here. (Photo by Ray Stinson, National Park Service)

In places where the cover of night is treasured, skies filled with stars, glowing planets and the Earth's solitary moon light the way. For many people, dark skies offer a window into thoughtfulness and mystery. "There is a feeling of possibility, timelessness, and, potentially, of fear, in the night sky," writes Sarah Melotte of The Daily Yonder. Some rural places "claim the preservation of dark skies as a core value. They protect a visitor’s experience of wonder and mystery. . . There are 152 dark sky 'places' in the continental United States." Find dark skies here. 

Kennedy pledged to protect Native American health, but staffing and funding cuts have already taken a toll

Navajo Nation leaders took turns hiking alongside Kennedy to detail
the tribal nation’s priorities. (Photo by Katheryn Houghton, KFF) 

Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. pledged to make Native American health a priority, but federal cuts have already sliced into plans and services tribal members need.

While Kennedy’s intervention saved the Indian Health Service from some government cuts, "health officials across tribal nations say those overtures are overshadowed by the collateral harm from massive cuts to federal health programs," report Katheryn Houghton, Jazmin Orozco Rodriguez and Arielle Zionts of KFF Health News.

Tribal members living in more remote areas will have the most difficulty accessing medical services not affiliated with the Indian Health Service. "Many tribal members don’t live near an agency clinic or hospital. And those who do may face limited services, chronic underfunding, and staffing shortages,” KFF reports. “To work around those gaps, health organizations lean on other federally funded programs.”

"Tribes have lost more than $6 million in grants from other HHS agencies, the National Indian Health Board wrote in a May letter to Kennedy," Houghton, Rodriguez and Zionts write. Across many Native American communities, HHS staffing and grant cuts have chipped away at overdose prevention programs, heat and cooling assistance, and vaccination initiatives.

Native Tribal leaders continue to voice deep concerns over the GOP’s “proposed cuts to Medicaid,” KFF reports. "About 30% of Native American and Alaska Native people younger than 65 are enrolled in Medicaid, and the program helps keep Indian Health Service and other tribal health facilities afloat.”

“Some tribal leaders say the recent cuts, and the way the administration made them, violate treaties in which the U.S. promised to provide for the health and welfare of tribes in return for taking their land,” KFF reports. “Tribal consultation is legally required when federal agencies pursue changes that would have a significant impact on tribal nations."

Cherokee Nation's mobile drug unit delivers life-saving care to some of its most remote-living members

A tribal member unloads the Cherokee Nation harm-reduction
van. (Photo by Shane Brown, Native News Online via The Guardian.)

A new program in Oklahoma is using a mobile drug unit to distribute harm reduction and drug safety supplies to rural Cherokee Nation members struggling with addiction, reports Elyse Wild of The Guardian. The traveling service is part of the tribe's overall "Native people taking care of Native people" effort to address the severe risks and lack of access facing Native Americans with substance-use disorders.

The drug unit van can be the first point of contact for an addicted tribal member to receive life-saving supplies and education. Coleman Cox, who drives the unit, stops along drug "hot spots" in remote northern Oklahoma and sets up tables "with black bins of naloxone, a drug to reverse opioid overdoses, along with testing strips, clean syringes and wound-care supplies," Wild writes. "The mobile unit typically sees 16 regulars from the community, he says. Some days, no one comes. It all depends on the patterns of drug use and the current drug supply."

The Cherokee Nation "is the largest of the tribes, with more than 450,000 citizens worldwide and 141,000 people living within its sovereign boundaries," Wild explains. "Mobile harm reduction is uniquely suitable for tribal nations. . . where culture and connection are measures of health, harm reduction mitigates the isolation of active addiction." Cox told Wild, "Native people heal as a community.”

With the mobile unit, the Cherokee Nation can reach more remote members who need physical and cultural help coping with addiction. "The effect of culture on addiction health in Native communities is not purely anecdotal," Wild adds. "A doctoral research project conducted by the University of Arizona in 1992 with the Shuswap First Nation community in Alkali Lake, British Columbia, found that employing substance abuse treatment with cultural practices such as sweat lodges, pipe ceremonies, drumming, singing and powwows were instrumental in reducing the tribe’s rate of drug and alcohol abuse by 95% from 1970 to 1985."

Flora & Fauna: Muppets ponder the Electoral College; a new wildlife corridor; fall in love with moths; banana battle

Most muppets didn't "vote" for the Electoral College.
(Muppet Wiki photo)

Elmo took it upon himself, along with several other muppets who were voting, to try and understand how the U.S. Electoral College works. "Elmo just did some math and Elmo is worried," writes Alexandra Petri of The Washington Post. At first, the Count loved how the College worked, but then he said, "I love counting, but the Electoral College is not about counting! It is about making things not count! The Electoral College belongs in the trash!" Oscar the Grouch had some feelings about that. . .

A critical wildlife pathway that began with "a handful of frustrated hunters and 20 deer imported from South Carolina," is now a reality writes Dan Chapman for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. "A burgeoning wildlife corridor stretches from Atlanta’s western suburbs to the Talladega National Forest in Alabama, a 30-mile stretch of public and private lands where deer, bear, at-risk bats, and federally endangered fish have more room to roam, and more chances to survive." Read about the corridor's unique beginnings here.

Sugar maples can live to be 300 to 400 years old.
(Adobe Stock photo)

In a forest, all flora and fauna eventually die, but in the case of an old and beloved sugar maple, life went on as saws and woodworking turned the tree into bowls that could be held, used and treasured, writes Daryln Brewer Hoffstot for The New York Times. Tree "turner," Corey Snyder, "presented me with three beautiful, honey-colored bowls: one for our son, one for our daughter, and one for us. . . . One has light streaks of green because of mineral deposits. They are different shapes, sizes and thicknesses. I asked him how he chose what form the bowls should take. 'I let the piece of wood dictate,' he said. . . .The old maple had spoken."

There are roughly 180,000 known moth and
butterfly species. (Princeton U Press graphic)

The world of moths is mysterious and vast. For all of us, there is much to learn and fall in love with. "As humans drop off to sleep, the invisible world of moths comes to life. Across the planet, billions of the insects take flight on their nocturnal errands," report Michael J. Coren and Alice Li of The Washington Post. "Over two nights in the desert, I discovered just how easy it is to fall in love with an unloved insect. And why 'mothing' may be the best way to discover the miracle of biodiversity in your own backyard."

As bananas battle for survival, scientists are working to save them from extinction. "Two diseases threaten to wipe out the banana as we know it, and scientists are racing to breed a fruit of the future," reports H. Claire Brown of The Wall Street Journal. "Chiquita Brands International last month said it bred a new banana called the Yelloway 1 that is resistant to one of the major diseases and shows promise in resisting the second. . . . Using a genetic bank of about 150 banana varieties, the Chiquita team has focused on breeding an edible, disease-resistant banana."

NOAA plans to consider expanding the new Chumash Heritage Marine Sanctuary in the years
ahead, after new infrastructure is built for offshore wind farms. (NOAA photo via NPR)

A new national marine sanctuary isn't just a win for sea creatures and sea lovers, it's the first such designation led by Indigenous people, reports Lauren Sommer of NPR. "More than 4,500 square miles of ocean will soon be protected by the federal government off the Central California coast. The Biden administration is creating a new national marine sanctuary, which will be the third largest in the U.S. . . . The new Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary will be managed in partnership with tribes and Indigenous groups in the area, who will advise the federal government."

Opinion: Minnesotans don't all agree on which state flag should be flown. The conflicts come from many places.

The older flag (Wikipedia graphic)

Minnesota has two flags and both are flying in different parts of the state. The older banner represents the state's connection to farming, which is historically accurate. But the flag illustrates the American Indian running into the sunset, which has proved a problematic emblem for many Minnesotans. The second banner was unfurled earlier this year and features two opposing hues of blue and a bold eight-pointed white star. But even with its simplicity, the new flag has stoked controversy.

Some Minnesotans hoped a new flag would help unite the state, but some more rural counties have rejected the new flag and have stuck to flying the old version, writes Karen Tolkkinen in her opinion for The Minnesota Star Tribune. "America has been struggling with how to deal with the symbols of a past that harmed many people, and Minnesota has not been spared. . . . It’s fair to say that the old state flag reflected the reality of the 1800s. As logging and railroad barons plundered the state, and European settlers moved in, the state’s Indigenous people did lose power."

The new flag (Wikipedia graphic)

Part of the point of changing the flag was to remove a state symbol that was emblematic of Indigenous people's historical oppression and loss. "Arguably now, more than at any time in our state’s history, Minnesotans see and understand the massive loss and trauma endured by Indigenous people," Tolkkinen adds. "Simply changing a flag doesn’t fix that, but those who felt their oppression reflected in the flag no longer chafe under that demeaning symbol."

Hanging onto the old is nothing new in people or government politics, but resisting a new flag can have a deeper meaning. "It’s also easy to see the frantic rally around the old flag as the fearful acts of a majority group that is losing power as demographics shift locally and nationally. Some of that is true. But it doesn’t tell the whole story," Tolkkinen writes. "The sting, I think, is feeling like they are being erased from history."

The ancestors of many rural white Minnesotans "arrived here not speaking English, driven across the ocean by hunger or poverty or war. While hundreds of thousands of settlers got Minnesota land for free through the Homestead Act of 1864, many other immigrants bought their land from the government or the railroad, paying $1.25 an acre starting in 1841," Tolkkinen explains. "They had hard lives. . . . The farmer in the old state flag could have been an ancestor of many people in our area. . . . I can see that they might feel, like the Native man riding into the sunset, that they are being written out of history."

Battle over mining in Arizona is about U.S. green energy needs, religious rights and land use

A view of Palabora, a South African copper mine, which was partially developed by Rio Tinto. Palabora's mine crater is roughly 1.24 miles across. Resolution's crater is expected to be 2 miles across. (Adobe Stock photo)

Resolution Copper wants to dig 5,000 to 7,000 feet into Arizona's Oak Flat desert to mine the region's vast copper-molybdenum deposit. The resistance to the project by Native American tribes and religious groups goes just as deep.

The Resolution Project has been under development by mining behemoths Rio Tinto and BHP Group since 2002. The companies and project supporters insist extracting the region's copper deposit is vital to shore up the mineral competition with China and for the U.S. transition to renewable energy. The opposition sees the mine and its expected 2-mile-across crater as exploitation of tribal holy ground.

Overall, the project has powerful backers: "It has generally been supported by the Obama, Trump and Biden administrations, though the latter has asked for more study as it seeks to balance its desire for clean-energy supplies with protections for the environment and the interests of Native Americans. The project can’t advance until that study is completed," report Phred Dvorak and Rhiannon Hoyle of The Wall Street Journal. "Many state and local officials [also] back the project."

Resistance to the project centers on Oak Flat, a stretch of land many Apaches consider sacred ground. The entrance to the mine is on Oak Flat, with the copper thousands of feet below. The main Apache opposition group, known as Apache Stronghold, was formed by the Apache San Carlos tribe and is represented by the Becket Fund, "a high-powered Washington, D.C., law firm known for championing conservative causes," Dvorak and Hoyle write. "Becket said it is planning to take its fight to the Supreme Court, where it has an 8-0 record."

Once Apache Stronghold and Becket joined forces the cause gained "a host of new religious allies. . . . Scores of religious groups have also submitted amicus briefs supporting Apache Stronghold’s suit," the Journal reports, "including organizations representing Mennonites, Seventh Day Adventists, Sikhs and Muslims."

Meanwhile, Resolution developers say "they have invested in an extensive monitoring network for groundwater, springs and other bodies of water that will be checked by regulators and a community working group," Dvorak and Hoyle add. "Resolution’s owners are trying to honor that commitment by consulting and joining with local tribes in good faith for the duration of the project, said Gare Smith, a lawyer who focuses on human rights and advises the project’s owners."

Not all regional tribes oppose the mine. "Other local tribes are attracted by potential economic benefits in a state where the tribal poverty rate is 29%," the Journal reports. "Among the ones with ties to Oak Flat, most have at some time officially opposed the mine."

To read more about U.S. copper needs, click here.
To find out more about the animals and plants that are native to Oak Flat, click here.

Learning practices and knowledge from Native Americans can help support nature, farming and more

Native Americans have worked with nature to support themselves and the land for centuries. "These time-honored practices work with the natural world’s rhythms," reports Samuel Gilbert of The Washington Post. "Some might even hold the key to a more resilient future." Below are five of Gilbert's indigenous practices that can help humans tend to Mother Nature while caring for their communities.

Zuni waffle gardens look like an 'earthen waffle.'
(Photo by Curtis Quam via Civil Eats)

Zuni waffle gardens are made with rows of sunken squares "surrounded by adobe walls that catch and hold water like pools of syrup in a massive earthen waffle," Gilbert writes. "The sustainable design protects crops from wind, reduces erosion and conserves water."

Controlled or "cultural burns" were used by Indigenous people "to improve soil quality, spur the growth of particular plants," Gilbert adds. "Prescribed burning has returned as state and federal agencies recognize the importance of fire in managing forests."

The use of acequias, which are ancient irrigation systems dating back to the 1600s. "The name can refer to both the gravity-fed ditches filled with water and the farmers who collectively manage water," Gilbert explains. "The earthen ditches mimic seasonal streams and expand riparian habitats for numerous native species."

Learn from dryland farmers. "The Hopi nation in Arizona receives an average of 10 inches of rain per year — a third of what crop scientists say is necessary to grow corn successfully," Gilbert adds. "Yet Hopi farmers have been cultivating corn and other traditional crops without irrigation for millennia, relying on traditional ecological knowledge rooted in life in the high desert."

Some seeds are 'arid-adapted.'
(Adobe Stock photo)

Find and cherish diverse, resilient seeds. Gilbert writes, "Aaron Lowden, a seed keeper and traditional farmer from the Acoma Pueblo, a village west of Albuquerque, has successfully returned dozens of varieties of traditional arid-adapted seeds such as Acoma blue corn, Acoma pumpkin, Acoma melon and other crops to his pueblo."

To read Gilbert's additional suggestions, which include clam gardens and jaw-dropping indigenous architecture, click here.

Quick hits: Wayne County murals showcase 'Walldogs'; a Midwestern state of mind; the eclipse capital is in Illinois

Willie Nelson singing at the first Farm Aid concert in 1985.
(Wayne Walldogs photo via Successful Farming)

Murals in Wayne County, Iowa, stand as a testament to the region's dynamic and resilient history. "Wayne County, a part of the Mormon Trail, where Brigham Young led his followers from Illinois to Utah in 1846, is also known for its excellent hunting opportunities, large Amish community, and well-appointed historical museum," reports Lisa Prater Froust of Successful Farming. "Last year, these historical events and figures were vividly brought to life in 16 murals painted during the five-day Wayne County Walldogs Festival." Not sure what 'walldog' is? Click here.

The Midwestern United States 
(Wikipedia map, from Census Bureau data)

Think you're a Midwesterner? For most residents, the answer depends on geography, but some people have other ideas. "Everyone knows places such as Ohio and Minnesota are solidly in the Midwest. But a recent poll finds that the Midwest is more a state of mind than just a place you can point to on a map," report Ben Kesling and Jennifer Levitz of The Wall Street Journal. "People from Colorado (42%), Oklahoma (66%) and even Wyoming (54%) think they live in the Midwest. . . . Some locals are baffled: 'Who ARE you people?'"

Pluto was demoted to one of dozens of dwarf
planets. (NASA photo via Nat Geo)

In 1930, a farm boy turned astronomer from Streator, Illinois, Clyde William Tombaug, discovered Pluto, which was designated our solar system's ninth planet, but then in 2006, Pluto got demoted. "Mike Brown, CalTech professor of astronomy and author of How I Killed Pluto and Why it Had it Coming, crashed the party and took away Pluto's planetary classification," reports Eric Alt of National Geographic. "Ever since the worlds of science and pop culture have debated Pluto's fate. . . . the matter seems far from settled."

Some news sources say the U.S. economy is recovering from the dark days of the pandemic, with most measures reporting a healthy rebound despite inflation's hold on grocery and housing costs. That's one picture. Talk to a local pawnbroker, and you'll hear a different report. "Accumulating pawnshop inventory means fewer buyers than sellers – a sign that for the lowest-income Americans, times remain tough," reports Lauren Villagran of USA Today. "Some Americans – people with retirement plans, savings and stock holdings – may gripe about inflation and the economy, but they're doing all right. Others are surviving pawn to pawn."

Location of Mikanda in Jackson
County, Illinois. (Wikipedia map)

 

The U.S. eclipse capital is the unassuming southern Illinois town of Mikanda, Illinois, pop. 500. It has been "blessed by the cosmos for the second time in under 10 years," reports Hunter Bassler of KSDK in St. Louis, Missouri. "Mikanda is the exact intersection for both the 2017 and 2024 eclipses, an astronomical wonder that rarely ever happens in such a short time span, according to NASA. . . . Village officials are preparing for bigger crowds this year."

Rainbow over Cheesebox Butte. Cheesebox Canyon is a popular Bear Ears hiking trail.
(Photo by Stephen Trimble, Writers on the Range)

Without knowing the region's history, Bear Ears National Monument evokes thoughts of strength, softness, and beauty. Dive deeper into the story of this 1.36 million-acre site in southeast Utah, and a timeline of battles, historical power dynamics and unresolved conflict emerges. "The political tussle over this stunning expanse of red rock canyons exemplifies all the cultural dissonance in the rural West," writes Stephen Trimble in his opinion for Writers on the Range. "White residents never envisioned challenges to their political power. But in 2009, the feds came down hard on generations of casual pothunting by local white families. Then, after a century of oppressing their Indigenous neighbors, lawsuits strengthened Native voting rights."

Opinion: Further buffalo restoration in the American West should be all about 'integrity' -- not adding to the economy

Writer Elsie DuBray argues that integrity in relationship is the only path forward for the
 healthy return of more buffalo to the American West. (Photo by E. Dubray via The Daily Yonder)

The American buffalo embodies the mystique of the nation's West — bold, massive and distinct. Despite its near extinction in the 1800s, the return of buffalo to western lands has been slow but steady. The buffalo restoration movement now rests on a precipice between deep respect and planning for buffalo to roam as they once did and capitalistic interests.

Writer Elsie M. DuBray, in her commentary for The Daily Yonder, argues that it is at this unique place and time where Indigenous people must focus on integrity in action and legal advocacy to light the way for buffalo's best chance at dignified survival. An edited version is shared below.

Over the past several decades, buffalo restoration has become part of an emerging national conversation. "According to the Fish and Wildlife Service, 20,500 buffalo exist within U.S. conservation herds and 450,000 in commercial herds," DuBray writes. "PBS reports that 82 Tribes manage 65 buffalo herds and programs, and there is even a federal working group under the Department of the Interior dedicated to buffalo restoration, funded by the March 2023 Inflation Reduction Act as part of a 'restoration and resilience framework.'"

Buffalo restoration means more than numbers.
(Photo by E. DuBray via The Daily Yonder)

While buffalo restoration has come a long way through the incredible efforts of Indigenous people and advocates, some problems have emerged. Dubray explains, ". . . in many instances, these successes have cast a shadow under which a complacency within the larger buffalo restoration movement has developed. The optical 'wins' of X many buffalo here and Y over there, for example, may overshadow the way a buffalo program began answering the calls of capitalism as opposed to the calls of our ancestors' prayers. Or the way we brush aside the moral calamity of a feedlot for buffalo when it means a grocery store thousands of miles away may be able to carry a bison tenderloin."

"When done 'in a good way,' as my people like to say, revitalizing ancestral Indigenous food systems has an almost unparalleled potential to heal," Dubray adds. "But there are consequences when values are compromised, as is seen in recent disease outbreaks that once again threaten the hard-fought buffalo herd numbers to a severe degree not seen since the 1800s. We must make a decision about how we are going to carry ourselves forward within this work, and we must make the right one."

Integrity offers a way forward that is both clear and decidedly tough to follow. It includes "our shared and unique cultural values that define our kinship to the buffalo and, inextricably, our responsibility as their kin to protect, honor, and uphold the integrity of the buffalo themselves," DuBray writes. "What exactly are we restoring if we fail to answer this question of integrity? Buffalo must not become solely about numbers – numbers of buffalo or numbers of zeros they add to a Tribe's economy.

"Buffalo restoration, at its core, is about relationships. I ask, how are we going to honor ours?"

Farming quick hits: Native Americans are regaining access to land; the best wire cutters; two sisters run this sawmill

Landback.org image

Alongside American colonial expansion during the 1800s came the decimation of many Native Americans' lands and food sources. "Native peoples fought off settler and military encroachment of their hunting, fishing, and gathering territories. Their lifeways — and foodways — were hugely altered and restricted," reports Kate Nelson of Civil Eats. "The Land Back movement is helping communities regain access to both food and land. . . . In Montana, for example, the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes now oversee 18,000 acres where bison roam once again. In Nebraska, the Ponca people have been growing their sacred corn on farmland signed back to them in 2018."

Farmer Mahoney liked the strong
cuts and comfy grips.

Doug Mahoney raises sheep, cows and pigs and spends a lot of time fixing fences. "This can mean days at a time of snip, snip, snip," Mahoney writes. "I tested 13 pairs of wire cutters for Wirecutter. . . . I used them to make hundreds upon hundreds of cuts through wire, hardware cloth, and even nails. At the time, I chose the Channellock E337CB Diagonal Cutting Pliers as the best. . . .Since then, they have become one of the most important tools I own."

Meatpacking industry concentration increased during the 1980s and 1990s as producers shifted to larger plant operations. The industry's consolidation "raised questions about competition, particularly as it related to prices paid for cattle and hogs," writes James M. MacDonald in his essay for Amber Waves. "With fewer firms competing with one another, would packers be able to reduce the prices they paid to farmers and ranchers compared with a world with more (and smaller) competing firms? On the other hand, those fewer firms also had lower processing costs, which they could pass on to beef and pork consumers."

Sisters Mary Haag, left, and Nancy Kieffer took over
the sawmill 28 years ago. (Photo by Jacob Moyer, LF)

Sisters Mary Haag and Nancy Kieffer have been operating Moyer's Sawmill in Bernville, Pennsylvania, for 28 years. "The pair took it over from their father, Ray Moyer, whose father and uncle started the business around 1903," reports Dan Sullivan of Lancaster Farming. "The sisters set about running the place, eventually with help from their spouses, initially doing their own logging and cutting everything from 1-by-4s to large custom pieces — up to 34 feet (though they don't necessarily like to advertise that) — for timber-frame homes, barn restorations and the like." 

Known as twilight farmers, some agricultural operators lack an heir, leaving them wondering who will manage their land, equipment and animals once they're gone. But farmers can work to settle out agreements before they pass, reports Lisa Foust Prater for Successful Farming. Forming a corporation and a select type of trust is one answer, but planning is the biggest key to keeping the farm operating.

UNMC CS-Cash photo via Farm Progress

ATVs, UTVs and even golf carts can be farmland workhorses. But like all farming machinery, driving vehicles on a busy farm requires extra care around buildings, animals and workers. "In 2023, there were 291 ATV and 27 UTV fatalities in the U.S., with many of these related to work in agriculture," Ellen Duysen of Farm Progress reports. "In 2019, ATV incidents resulted in an estimated 95,000 emergency room visits." To reduce the risk of injury, death and possible liability, read her guidelines here.

Quick bits: Christmas trees are big business; revival of the Cherokee language; growing tomatoes with less water

Holiday boughs cash in around $3 billion
a year.(Photo by Mourad Saadi, Unsplash)

Oh, Christmas tree, Oh, Christmas tree, How lovely is your profit margin! Chopped, bought or pre-decorated, Christmas trees are big business. "The markup on Christmas trees is around 400% to 500%. That's about the same as a pair of designer jeans or a drink from a hotel minibar," write Jay L. Zagorsky and Patrick Abouchalache for The Conversation. "Multiplying the $80 to $100 price by the 15 million natural trees and 20 million artificial trees sold in 2022 means Christmas trees are roughly a $3 billion business annually — without including any extra money spent on the decorations."

Kansas is so parched that drought covers nearly three-fourths of the state. This past summer was brutally hot and arid, but there are a few drops of good news. "The Kansas Geological Survey reported groundwater levels in the High Plains Aquifer could be sustained for at least one decade in moisture-imperiled areas of western Kansas through pumping reductions of 18% to 32%," reports Tim Carpenter of Successful Farming. "The aquifer, the state's most economically important groundwater resource, published a report summarizing regional conditions and options for prolonging the life of the aquifer."

A documentary still. (Photo by ᎤᎶᎩᎳ /
Schon Duncan via The Daily Yonder)

The Cherokee language faced extinction until younger generations decided that saving it was vital to preserving their cultural identity, reports Kim Kobersmith of The Daily Yonder. Kobersmith interviewed ᎤᎶᎩᎳ / Schon Duncan, a proud member of the United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee Indians, a Cherokee language activist, and co-director of the feature-length film ᏓᏗᏬᏂᏏ (We Will Speak) to discuss the film's history. Duncan said the film showcases Cherokee activists, artists and educators efforts to revive and teach the Cherokee language. To learn what this "new wave" of Cherokee speakers is doing, click here. To watch for new film screenings coming in January/February 2024, click here.

Peace and political opinions don't always go together, but the shared pull of the harvest and a reunion celebration help this rural couple in Chickasaw County, Iowa, come together, offers Jose A. Del Real in his Washington Post immersive read. "Rage wasn’t Verna’s style. She believed in decency. She believed in nurturing community, not sowing division. Her life was animated by gentler questions than the ones at the heart of national politics in 2023: What do people owe one another? When can the past teach us something about ourselves, and when does it blind us to the present?"

There aren't enough tomatoes to go around.
(Photo by Fernando Andrade, Unsplash)

What would french fries be without ketchup? What about hot dogs? Researchers in California don't want Americans to find out. "In the heart of one of the world's top vegetable-growing regions in California, scientists are on a mission to save ketchup," reports Patrick Thomas of The Wall Street Journal. "Plant breeders at the Woodland, Calif., facility of German pharmaceutical and agriculture giant Bayer are testing whether tomatoes meant for processing into pizza sauces and ketchup can survive on a fraction of their traditional water needs, without sacrificing taste or juiciness. . . . Bayer’s tomatoes are one example of how the agriculture industry is now trying to stay ahead of a changing climate that could disrupt the food supply chain and drive up prices for consumers.

 

Opinion: Returning lands to Indigenous people is one way to ensure treasured landscapes thrive

The tiers of stone placed in the river are a method of fishery
restoration. (Photo by Tristan Spinski ,The Washington Post)

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world. ~ John Muir

John Muir, an American naturalist who is credited with founding our national parks, imagined a world "stripped of the Native Americans. . . to create his ideal of pristine wilderness," writes Bina Venkataraman in her opinion for The Washington Post. What a surprise conservation in Maine would be to Muir, where Indigenous knowledge and people are saving some of the state's most beloved lands.

"The Penobscot Nation's record of caring for nature while still using it — hunting moose and duck while keeping their populations steady, selectively harvesting timber to preserve forests and restoring rivers to support fisheries — inspired an effort to return a 31,000-acre tract of forested land to tribal ownership. Late last year, the Trust for Public Land, a conservation group, bought the parcel from an industrial timber company, and it announced it would give the land to the tribe once it pays off $32 million in loans. Called Wáhsehtəkʷ by the Penobscot, which means east branch of the river (and is pronounced WAH-seh-teg). It's the largest contiguous tract that the tribe will have acquired in more than four decades.

"The transfer is part of a movement to return lands to Indigenous stewardship and work with tribal communities to protect biodiversity. The hope is both to restore justice for tribes that were long ago stripped of their ancestral homelands and to learn from long-standing Indigenous practices new ways to save a beleaguered planet. The pending land return in Maine, or 'rematriation' as some Indigenous people call it, stands out because of its scale — many previous land returns in the eastern United States have been on the order of hundreds of acres — and because the Penobscot will decide how the land will be managed.

"This is a significant change. For most of the past two centuries, Western conservationists have largely ignored Indigenous people's knowledge of landscapes and wildlife, along with tribes' historic claims to the land. But that is no longer tenable. Worldwide, Indigenous-managed lands host 80 percent of the world's biodiversity, by some estimates, and encompass much of the world's remaining intact forests, savannas and marshes. If environmentalists and political leaders hope to conserve more natural landscapes, including carbon sinks and critical buffer ecosystems such as wetlands that can protect against the harms of climate change, collaboration with tribal nation leaders is critical.

"Modern environmentalism has been deprived of Indigenous knowledge, in part, because it has seen nature as something apart from humans. Early thinkers hold some responsibility for this. . . . In the Muir tradition, the U.S. government drove tribal people out of areas that today are considered America's most beloved landscapes — Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Everglades — a history documented by David Treuer, an Ojibwe writer.

"When Henry David Thoreau — someone I long admired for his quest to 'live deliberately' — traveled to the Maine woods in the 19th century, he distinguished between 'scientific men' and Indian guides, even as he acknowledged the latter's navigational expertise. It's laughable now to think that communities that had inhabited a place for centuries, gaining intimate knowledge of the natural features, flora and fauna and passing down that knowledge across generations, could have less to offer scientifically than settlers encountering those lands for the first time. Yet it was only last year that the U.S. government formally recognized how much tribes can contribute to ecological knowledge of their ancestors' landscapes."