This spring, a torrent of rain sent a river rushing over a field on the Oneida Nation in Wisconsin, destroying most of what was in its path, including the traditionally important crop of white corn.
Families tried planting a second time, but it was too wet; many seeds dissolved in the water-soaked soil. The corn that did sprout was patchy and stunted.
It looked "anemic," said Lea Zeise, one of the coordinators of Ohe·laku, a non-profit that works with the families planting crops. "Really skinny and really frail."
A few members picked what remained at the end of August in its early form, known as green corn, but it was barely enough to go around. There will be none of their white corn in the annual food boxes sent to tribal elders next year. And the harvest moon event, traditionally an important time for ceremonies and community gathering, has been canceled.
It's a stark reminder of the uncertainty in store for Indigenous growers as the planet warms and as seasonal weather patterns become more unpredictable. There will likely be many hard years threatening the food that ties Oneida people to their culture, the land and each other. Oneida white corn stewards and other Indigenous growers want to adapt, and are proactively incorporating sustainable land management techniques like using cover crops to try to improve soil health and bolster their land against future droughts and floods. But years like this one remind them that it won't always be enough.
