It's a misty morning on Big Chippewa Lake. An Anishinabeg couple
drags their canoe toward the water's edge. The woman boards in
front and sits on her haunches. The man pushes the canoe
offshore and jumps in behind her. As they pole toward the wild
rice beds, they can feel the crisp dampness of September on
their faces. The man rises to stand, head just above the tall
stalks of rice. The woman pulls the rice over her lap with one
stick and gently raps it with a second. There are many wild rice
lakes on the White Earth reservation in northwestern Minnesota,
my community. The Chippewa Indians, or Anishinabeg as we refer
to ourselves, call the rice "Mahnomin," or gift from the
Creator. More than half our people on the reservation harvest
wild rice, depending on it for as much as 40 percent of their
yearly incomes. But just how long the Anishinabeg can continue
to harvest wild rice is questionable. We face two challenges
that increasingly threaten our cultural and economic
relationship with wild rice. The first is