Culture and Resource Conflict: Why Meanings Matter

Preface

Preface When the wind is in the north fishermen go forth, When the wind is in the east fishing is the least, When the wind is in the south it blows the hook in their mouth, When the wind is in the west, fishing is best. THE PROPER ATTRIBUTION for the above verse is probably lost to history —it has been widespread in the Midwest since at least the early twentieth century. It seems to echo another, much more ancient and widespread, set of ideas based on the four directions: Native American notions of the circle of life, in which the directions correspond to the seasons . East is spring, south is summer, west is fall, and north is winter. For Native Americans, the circle of life is also the cycle of life, from emergence and growth to decay and regeneration. This pattern is believed to hold for both plants and animals in general and in the lives of individuals in particular. Sometimes it seems as if the primary metaphor for mainstream European -American culture—what we call majority culture in our studies —is more linear than cyclic: theoretically we progress in a more or less straight line in our educational attainment and in our accumulation of wealth, and our experience expands in a variety of linear ways. But the cycle image also fits with many aspects of our lives. Virtually every aspect of this project reflects a close collaboration between its three authors, and we all share core convictions—yet we three also bring very personal, local, meanings and viewpoints to our work, which we here convey to our readers. xi xii Preface DOUGLAS MEDIN The circle metaphor seems especially apt with respect to this book, for the experiences of my childhood and early adulthood opened circles that have been completed by my academic work. I grew up in the Midwest, and hunting, fishing, and trapping were significant components of my childhood and adolescence. Particularly memorable were the summers I would spend at my grandparents’ cottage in northern Minnesota on Woman Lake. My grandmother’s fishing expertise was legendary and some called her “the lady of the lake.” Resort owners would advise people to fish wherever they saw her fishing, sometimes to my annoyance. My grandmother would take me out fishing every late afternoon until the mosquitoes forced us to go in at dusk. Fishing was always accompanied by stories from my grandmother, with additional entertainment provided by families of loons and the occasional eagle. My grandfather didn’t like to sit for long periods of time, so for him, fishing was out. He was always out working on the property, trying to keep the chipmunks from his strawberries, and splitting logs for firewood . Although he was burdened with just a sixth-grade school education , he was intellectually curious. He would often read the dictionary at night. And he was a naturalist. He loved birds; I think the cedar waxwing would be close to the top of his list of favorites, though he maintained a martin house, so they would be up there as well. Two more circles that would lead back to folkbiology were begun around this time, one in my wife’s childhood and one from mine. Linda spent significant portions of her childhood on her grandparents’ farm in Upstate New York, where her favorite activities were collecting frogs and newts and watching her grandmother’s garden. My family lived in Klemme, Iowa (population 411), on the edge of town, a location where we could have a barn—we were among the very few townspeople to have one. This barn contained the results of Boy Scout paper drives: newspapers, wallpaper, and mainly books. Our community had its share of German immigrants, and my sisters and I pored over books written in German, especially those that used the ornamental type with curlicues that is called Fraktur. Perhaps this early exposure to such a foreign way of expressing familiar ideas (several of the Frakturscript books were bibles) planted the seeds of my later interest in cultural differences, of which this book is a product. We did some gardening, too, but I recall helping as little as possible. After graduate school I left the Midwest and relegated these activities to childhood memories. The next decade was in New York City, where “cul- Preface xiii ture” never had “agri” in front of it. During this period I was on the...