Eliza Braden-Taylor is a cultural interpreter with the Curve Lake First Nation Cultural Centre. As maple syrup season approaches, we asked Eliza if she could share an Indigenous perspective on the history, meaning, and importance of maple season. She responded with a detailed and thoughtful account of the teachings she has encountered as a member of the Michi Saagiig Anishnaabeg community.
Kawarthas Northumberland is located on the Treaty 20 Michi Saagiig territory and in the traditional territory of the Michi Saagiig and Chippewa Nations, collectively known as the Williams Treaties First Nations. Eliza’s wide-ranging responses illuminate a foundational part of one the region’s most treasured traditions; we’re excited to share this extended excerpt, which has been edited for length.
Kawarthas Northumberland: How long has Curve Lake been tapping for maple syrup?
Eliza Braden-Taylor: For thousands of years, Anishinaabeg in this area have been fostering a relationship with the Ninaatigoog (maple trees) so that we will continue to be recipients of that sweet gift from the trees.
As a traditionally migratory people who relied on game for sustenance, particularly throughout the winter months when our small, supplementary gardens would be inaccessible, the winter season was historically a tough one for Anishinaabeg.
By the time Ziisbaakdoke Dabik Giizis (Maple Sugaring Moon) came around, many Anishinaabeg were hungry, thin, and likely coming to the end of the food they’ve cached for the winter. The flowing Ziisbaakdowaaboo (maple sap) was a source of vitamins, nutrients, and sugars that are much needed after months of limited sugars, fats, and scarce food in general—this is something that traditional Anishinaabeg could not afford to miss out on. It was a life-giving gift from the Ninaatigoog (maple trees) that Anishinaabeg, and other First Nations, relied upon heavily.
Curve Lake First Nation, specifically, has been tapping Ninaatigoog (maple trees) since 1829, when colonization forced us to live a sedentary life on this small piece of land that the government chose for us and named Mud Lake, later changed to Curve Lake. But as a whole, Anishinaabeg have been tapping for Ziisbaakdowaaboo (maple sap) since the very beginning of Creation, when we were first placed on Mkinaak Mnis (Turtle Island, North America) to protect this land—sap is one of the gifts that the land gives to us in reciprocity.
How was the knowledge of tapping trees and making syrup traditionally passed down in your community?
Oral tradition is used to share concepts surrounding maple sugaring with small children and youth who may be too young to participate in the physical process just yet. Through sharing traditional stories, teachings, and histories with children, we are able to ensure that they have a strong understanding of the history of maple sugaring and of the cultural practices surrounding ethical harvesting. When we get into the area of “I do, we do, you do,” this is a concept in which we allow people to learn through experience.
When little ones are grown enough to start observing the physical work of maple sugaring, they will accompany their parents, older siblings, grandparents, cousins, aunties, or uncles (sometimes all of them at once!) through the entire process, being reminded of the teachings along the way. They watch the older ones pick trees, tap the trees, collect the sap, haul the buckets, boil the sap into syrup, boil it some more and stir it into a sugar, and every step in between. This is the “I do” part.
When the small ones are a little bit older and a little bit stronger, they help with the process of determining the health of sugar bush that season. If it’s a good year for the trees to share, the youth help the older ones through every step. Throughout this process they are reminded of their teachings surrounding the history, ethics of harvesting, best practices, and the obligations we hold to do maple sugaring in a good way. This is the “We do” part.
Then it’s time for them to do it themselves. With the experience and the knowledge that they’ve gained each season, they carry the necessary teachings to take this next step. Still accompanied by their teacher, family, and community, the youth will determine if it’s a good year to collect. If it is, they will pick the tree, determine its health and ability to share its gift, they will tap the tree, collect and haul the buckets, boil the sap into syrup, boil and stir the syrup into sugar. They run their Ziisbaakdokaaning (sugar bush) and continue to build upon their knowledge and improve their sugaring skills. This is the “You do” part.
Once someone goes through all of these teachings and steps, they carry the information and experience necessary to continue this practice on their own. Once they do, it is their turn to pass on the knowledge to the coming generations. They become the teacher, and the cycle continues. It continues to this day.
Has the practice of making maple syrup changed or stayed the same over time in your community?
Traditionally, each family or group of families had their own Ziisbaakdokaaning (sugar bush) that they would visit and collect from, each and every Ziisbaakdoke Dabik Giizis (Maple Sugaring Moon). This would be done as a family or community, with ceremony, teachings, storytelling, and companionship being an integral part of the tapping, collecting, boiling. At the very centre of this traditional practice is the reminder that Ziisbaakwad (maple sugar) is not just a food, it is a gift.
Ziisbaakdowaaboo (maple sap) is a necessary part of tree health—it carries nutrients from the roots to the branches in order for the Ninaatigoog (maple trees) to be strong enough to grow another season. Ziisbaakdowaaboo (maple sap) is literally the life-force of the trees; they could not live without it. Yet, the Ninaatigoog (maple trees) share this gift with us on an annual basis—anytime they have enough to share, they give their gift willingly so that we can all come out of the winter stronger together, trees and Anishinaabeg alike. This is why we follow the practice of “Take only what you need, not what you want” when collecting sap, or engaging with the land in any way for that matter.
Anishinaabeg know that the land gives us everything for free, and only asks that we protect it in return. We maintain strong teachings of ethical harvesting—before we tap a tree, we ask ourselves questions. Is this tree healthy? Was it a good, cold winter? Was there enough snow for the trees to rest properly and create sweet water? Will this tree have enough to share with me? Does this part of the forest have enough sugar maples? If I take some of this tree’s gift, will I be causing harm? What am I going to give back? So I will ask you, the reader, the enjoyer of Ziisbaakwad: When you are given the gift of maple sugar, what do you give back?
What do you think people outside of your community should understand about the cultural importance of maple syrup?
Ziisbaakdoke (maple sugaring) carries more importance than just cultural importance. It carries historical importance, spiritual importance, and social importance.
To Anishinaabeg, Ziisbaakdoke (maple sugaring) is an annual opportunity to learn about your ancestors, your culture, your community, your land, and yourself. It’s an opportunity to be given teachings from your Elders, and pass on teachings to the generations that come after yours. Ziisbaakdoke (maple sugaring) is an opportunity to have ceremony with the land, to give thanks to the land that sustains us, and that provides healing to everyone involved—Anishinaabeg and trees alike.
Do you have any favourite memories or experiences related to maple syrup that you’d like to share?
When I started in the position, it was Ziisbaakdoke Dabik Giizis (Maple Sugaring Moon) and one of the first things I had to do as a new staff was help my boss at the time run the Ziisbaakdokaaning (sugar bush). My first day with my new boss, he gave me teachings. He told me history, he sang traditional songs, he told me the importance of the work we were going to be doing. I listened closely, and these teachings were beginning of my life changing.
I fell in love with the hard work, with getting to be out on the land every day (and getting paid for it too!), and I fell in love with the teachings that the land gave to me. I fell in love with the way these teachings were helping me grow and learn. As a result, I began to fall in love with myself, and to see who I am and where I belong. It encouraged me to stay on my learning journey of cultural reconnection and self-identity.
I’m still on that journey today, but I’m much further along. For me, Ziisbaakdoke (maple sugaring) was the first step towards healing. It symbolizes my connection to the land, to myself, to my Michi Saagiig culture.
