We Are Nature 2

November 1, 2022 by Erin Southerland

The Vine That Ate Pittsburgh? Not yet.

by Mason Heberling

This specimen of Kudzu (Pueraria montana var. lobata) was collected on October 28, 1920 by Neil McCallum at West End Park, Pittsburgh. The plant was collected in cultivation, meaning it was intentionally planted and grown in a garden or similar managed landscape. This specimen is one of the earliest records of the species in Pittsburgh. (It was also collected two years before).

Kudzu is a vine in the bean family, Fabaceae, with beautiful purple flowers. Native to East Asia, it was introduced as an ornamental plant to the United States from Japan in 1876 at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. It was promoted in the 1930-40s in the southern US to prevent soil erosion. However, it is now an invasive species, with big ecological impacts. It is widely known as “the vine that ate the South.” A quick Google search will show you striking pictures of the vine covering large areas of land, covering trees, shrubs, logs, and anything else in the path of its explosive growth. Kudzu shades out existing vegetation and can drastically alter the ecosystem.

It is not common in Pennsylvania, but perhaps might become so. Kudzu is listed by the state as a “Class A Noxious Weed” – meaning it is assessed as a high invasive risk and ecological/economical concern, but is uncommon and possible to be eradicated. It cannot be sold or planted commercially in Pennsylvania.

It is currently most invasive in the South, but a study published in 2009 by Dr. Bethany Bradley and others suggests that the species may become more invasive in the north (including Pennsylvania) as climate change continues.

You can find this specimen online here, and search our collection at midatlanticherbaria.org.

Mason Heberling is Assistant Curator of Botany at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Carnegie Museum of Natural History Launches New “We Are Nature” Podcast Series, Exploring Natural Histories and Livable Futures

Series Introduces Listeners to Climate Action Conversations and Strategies in Southwestern Pennsylvania

Featuring Interviews with Radiolab’s Jad Abumrad and US House Candidate Summer Lee

Hosted and Produced by Pittsburgh-Based Artist and Filmmaker Michael Pisano

Carnegie Museum of Natural History (CMNH) announces the launch of its new podcast series, We Are Nature, with the first episodes available now. The new series, comprised of 11 regular episodes and several bonus episodes, features 30 interviews with museum researchers, organizers, policy makers, farmers, and science communicators about climate action in Southwestern Pennsylvania. The goal of the series is to share how humans can create–and are already working towards–a livable, just, and joyous future.

The series is created, produced, and hosted by Pittsburgh-based filmmaker and environmental educator Michael Pisano. Science communicator and former CMNH program manager Taiji Nelson joins as co-host and co-producer. Field reporters Di-ay Battad, David Kelley, and Jamen Thurmond round out the production crew.

The first episode, entitled “This Is an Emergency, Not an Apocalypse,” featuring interviews with Radiolab creator Jad Abumrad and CMNH Curator of Anthropocene Studies Dr. Nicole Heller, is available now along with a bonus episode, “We Can Fix This,” delving into effective climate change communication strategies. The second episode, “Steel City,” featuring an interview with US House of Representatives Candidate Summer Lee, will be available on November 4.

person crouched down outdoors holding a camera — Host and Producer Michael Pisano

person posing for a photo with a bicycle — Producer and Co-Host Taiji Nelson

“These stories show many diverse ways people are working together on the frontlines of climate change mitigation, adaptation, and justice,” said Pisano. “You’ll hear from people who grow our food, protect our greenspaces, and fight polluting industries. For me, their stories are a vital reminder that we aren’t doomed, and that getting involved with local issues like air quality is connected to making a difference globally.”

All episodes will be available at https://carnegiemnh.org/learn/we-are-nature-podcast/ and on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, Spotify, and Stitcher. The podcast We Are Nature follows CMNH’s successful A Is for Anthropocene podcast series and builds upon the museum’s We Are Nature exhibition series.

About the Hosts and Contributors

Host Michael Pisano’s first career aspiration was to be a dinosaur. Thirty-five-ish years later, he makes films about sustainability and solidarity. He also makes fantasy games about collaboration in the face of doom. Michael fell in love with Pennsylvania’s forests as an undergrad at Carnegie Mellon and has called Pittsburgh home for nearly 20 years since. In We Are Nature, his experiences as a teacher, documentary filmmaker, and climate justice organizer meet his passions for ecology and natural history; as a host, Michael works to draw connections between science, history, ethics, and a livable future.
www.pisanofilms.com

Producer and Co-host Taiji Nelson studies Learning Sciences and Human Development at the University of Washington (Seattle), but lived in Pittsburgh from 2006-2022 and grew up in the Allegheny National Forest. He is passionate about developing ways to promote solidarity between the environmental movement and other justice movements, and facilitating learning environments that help people answer big questions about taking action toward climate justice.

October 24, 2022 by Erin Southerland

Feather and Bone Connections to American History

by Patrick McShea

Within the Hall of North American Wildlife, a Passenger Pigeon taxidermy mount stands above a handful of other objects in a display case designed to spark viewers’ thoughts about human relationships with other creatures. On a text panel outside the case an eight-word statement serves to direct such thoughts:

Directly and indirectly, people and wildlife are connected.

Because Passenger Pigeons have been extinct for more than a century, reflections involving this native species are necessarily historical. An adjacent tray holding dozens of Passenger Pigeon leg bones excavated from an archaeology site in Pennsylvania’s Huntingdon County provides a helpful starting point for reflective time travel.

tray filled with passenger pigeon leg bones

The concentration of bones, which date from the years 1400-1600, is evidence of a centuries-long utilization of the birds for food by the Indigenous Peoples who lived in what’s now central Pennsylvania. Passenger Pigeons were once so abundant in eastern North America that flocks darkened the skies for hours when the birds migrated to access seasonal feeding areas and nesting sites.

Sustainable use of the birds by humans did not continue into the 19^th Century. By mid-century, Passenger Pigeons became an unregulated commodity in the rapidly expanding American economy, with the country’s growing railroad network and parallel telegraph system providing unprecedented means for sharing word of flock locations, transporting hunters to those sites, and shipping harvested birds to distant markets.

A summary statement from an exhibit about Passenger Pigeon extinction at another institution, the Milwaukee Public Museum, contains a relevant insight:

The primary factor emerged when pigeon meat was commercialized as a cheap food for slaves and the poor in the 19th century, resulting in hunting on a massive scale.

Recognizing an American slavery facet within what is commonly regarded as a natural history extinction story has never been more important. At a time when there is not consensus about how slavery should be presented as a historical topic in classrooms, the preserved remains of a once common bird have a special role to play.

In the 21^st Century, museum taxidermy mounts from the 19^th Century might serve as focal points for wide ranging discussions between the descendants of people who subsisted on Passenger Pigeon meat because they were enslaved, and those who could purchase little else because they were poor.

The exhibit described above is a component of We Are Nature: A New Natural History, an initiative that encourages a broader and deeper consideration of the human impact on our planet through a series of fifteen interpretive panels placed in and among existing exhibits, as well as a new interactive focal area where visitors are invited to record their thoughts, concerns, and hopes.

Patrick McShea is an Educator at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Chimney Swift Conservation

by Patrick McShea

In urban, suburban, and even rural areas of southwestern Pennsylvania, the high-pitched twittering cries of circling Chimney Swifts create a soundtrack for summer days. The birds’ aerial maneuvers are a mix of rapid wing beats and dynamic glides, and much of the action relates to feeding. Chimney Swifts eat on the wing, using their unusually large mouths to capture up to 5,000 flying insects per day. (A summary of a Powdermill Aviation Research Center study of the birds’ diet preferences can be found here: Chimney Swift Research – Powdermill Nature Reserve.)

When observed overhead, passing swifts are frequently described as resembling “flying cigars,” a visual analogy attributable to the birds’ five-inch-long, tube-shaped bodies, comparatively long, narrow wings, and muted grey-brown plumage. Our region is part of the species’ summer range, an enormous portion of eastern North America stretching from the Gulf Coast to just north of the Great Lakes. In South America, an equally large region of the upper Amazon Basin in Peru, Ecuador, and Brazil supports the population during the winter.

The architectural reference in the species’ common name alludes to commensalism involving birds and people that dates to the European settlement of eastern North America. As a biology term, commensalism denotes situations in which one species obtains benefits from another, without harming or benefiting the provider. Historic records indicate that before colonial times the species now known to science as Chaetura pelagica used hollow trees for roosting and nesting. Accounts in New England of the species nesting in chimneys date to the 1670s, and along the Atlantic coastal plain the birds’ exclusive use of chimneys for nest sites was established by 1800.

Within hollow trees and chimneys, sheltered interior walls meet the birds’ requirements for nesting and roosting. Chimney Swifts are unable to perch. Instead, they cling to vertical surfaces with their feet, and use the stiff shafts that protrude from the ends of their tail feathers as a brace. For nests, swifts collect branch-end twigs with their feet, in-flight, then use their quick-drying adhesive saliva to construct a narrow platform with the tiny sticks on an interior chimney or tree cavity wall.

In his landmark 1940 publication, Birds of Western Pennsylvania, CMNH curator W.E. Clyde Todd summarized the species’ association with chimneys as “more than accidental and connotes a remarkable adaptation to the changed conditions brought about by civilization.” In the eight decades since, changes in the built environment of modern civilization have become less welcoming to Chimney Swifts.

The population of Chimney Swifts has declined over 70% since the 1960s. Although reductions in flying insect abundance, along with still undetermined threats during migration and on wintering grounds, appear to be critical factors in the decline, potential nest and roost sites have also decreased due to the widespread practice of capping viable chimneys and demolishing those no longer in use.

In 2013, the Audubon Society of Western Pennsylvania (ASWP) launched a regional initiative to publicize the species’ plight and address reductions in Chimney Swift nesting and roosting habitat. The 106-year-old conservation organization has since led a broad coalition of partners in an ongoing effort to construct, install, and monitor more than 150 Chimney Swift towers at appropriate locations in southwestern Pennsylvania. Although Chimney Swifts are known to fly and roost in large flocks during migration, the birds’ behaviors are far different during the breeding season. Only one pair will nest in a chimney or tower, and research indicates the same pair will return to the same nesting location in subsequent years.

The design of these sturdy towers, which mimic actual chimneys, is based upon construction plans detailed in the 2005 publication, Chimney Swift Towers: New Habitat for America’s Mysterious Birds, by Paul and Georgean Kyle. The couple are project directors of the Texas-based Driftwood Wildlife Association’s North American Chimney Swift Nest Site Research Project, an all-volunteer effort to expand public awareness about the beneficial nature and the plight of the species.

educational sign about chimney swift towers

At sites where ASWP offers regular programming, five towers were constructed of stone to enable the structures to also function as entrance signs for the facilities. In Allegheny County’s seven parks, 12-feet high kiosk-style towers constructed of lumber, shingles, and other roofing materials are now familiar landscape features. Through a partnership with Allegheny County, the Allegheny County Parks Foundation, and the Peaceable Kingdom Fund of The Pittsburgh Foundation, a total of one hundred towers, most bearing colorful informational panels, have been installed to make these public properties more welcoming to Chimney Swifts.

Observations of Chimney Swift activity near any of the towers can contribute to the ongoing evaluation of this regional conservation initiative. Allegheny County Park Rangers have been monitoring towers within the parks where they serve, and towers elsewhere are monitored by ASWP staff and volunteers, however wider public participation is welcome. For more information about Chimney Swift conservation, including a map of tower locations and an online form for reporting observations, please visit the website of the Audubon Society of Western Pennsylvania.

Patrick McShea is an Educator at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Messages in Tardigrade Plastic Time Capsules

by Asia Ward

Person sitting at a table writing — Messengers, *time capsule installation by Asia Ward. Photo by Joe Grigar. 2022*

Have you seen the Tardigrade-shaped time capsule installation titled Messengers on the third-floor balcony in the Carnegie Museum of Natural History? I am the artist who fabricated those for the We Are Nature: A New Natural History exhibit experience. My name is Asia Ward, and I’m a social practice and public sculpture artist who is also the Project Manager and Science Communicator for the We Are Nature project.

Sometimes my two careers combine, as occurred during the time capsule interactive art installation. I was invited to contribute an art installation for the exhibition by Nicole Heller, the Associate Curator for Anthropocene Studies, and director of the We Are Nature project.

In my 14-year career as a science communicator for other organizations, I have worked with museums on prototyping interactive exhibits. The experience of contributing an art piece to a project I was also managing allowed me to get supporting departments involved in thinking about what an art installation could be. I generated the ideas for an interactive exhibit, and through group discussions and brainstorming with colleagues in the Education, Exhibition, Anthropology, and Anthropocene Studies departments, the final project concept was shaped. I then went to work sculpting large versions of Tardigrades out of recycled thermal plastic. Three time capsules were created as repositories for visitors’ thoughts about conditions in 2027, 2025, and 2095, years chosen for their potential to be a time of major change for life on Earth.

I created the Tardigrades to be transparent and hollow, with doors for the deposit of visitor messages. The installation runs from November 2021 until November 2022, and so far, out of all the interactive installations I have created, this has proven to be the most successful and the most surprising.

sketches of tardigrades — *Tardigrade sketches for* Messengers, by Asia Ward. Photo by Asia Ward. 2022

Why Tardigrades?

Tardigrades, otherwise known as “Water bears” or “Moss Piglets” because of their 8-legged chubby resemblance of key features on bears or pigs, are well known around the globe for their survival skills. I can’t seem to do research on them without finding some new fantastic feat they’ve conquered, like being frozen for 30 years and brought back to life, or failing to survive impact from a crashed rocket on the moon.

Tardigrades, which compare in size with a tiny rice grain, are microscopic creatures found almost everywhere on Earth, from your backyard to the top of a volcano or the ocean.

I’ve found them by gathering some lichen from my backyard, soaking a section of lichen in water, and then examining the fluid under a microscope, and BAM! There they are, crawling around eating and pooping. I think they’re weirdly cute and very accessible. If you’re interested, there are some instructions online for doing your own research.

I think what’s most inspiring about Tardigrades is how they have evolved to go into what is termed a tun state, becoming a dehydrated looking blob in a state of suspended animation in order to survive harsh environmental change, and then rehydrating when the environment is more to their liking. For these creatures, whose average life span is three to four months for some species, and a little more than 2 years for others, the ability to press “Pause” when things get tough, is unique. From my interpretation, the tardigrade’s time traveling ability makes them perfect messengers for future Earth.

Time Capsules as an Interactive Exhibit to Process the Anthropocene

Before the time capsules were fabricated, the installation required some thought as to how visitors could best approach the time capsules and feel invited to contribute a message for the future. I worked with the Exhibitions staff for a year to prototype different prompts and test their effectiveness on the floor with visitors. In collaborating with different departments, we realized that the Hub, where Messengers is located, should be a space where visitors can process what they’ve learned and express their feelings about the Anthropocene. The term Anthropocene is the name of the proposed current geological epoch when human activities dominate the functioning of the planetary system. This distinct geological time period is what We Are Nature: A New Natural History explores, using new interpretive panels in 15 existing exhibit areas and related art installations as focus points to help visitors learn more about the topic.

The final prompts and labels for the Messengers installation were part of what made it so successful. Every week, we get an average of 200-300 messages, many of them very serious, heartfelt, and earnest. An additional factor in its success is the message wall, where visitors can place their messages under the different year headers. During my observations, most visitors go directly to the message wall, reading from left to right every single message. The visitors might have come into the space because of the shiny and interesting looking Tardigrade sculptures, but they stay in the space and contribute because of the prompts and the messages that others have left.

wall with handwritten messages for time capsules — Messenger prompts and visitor message wall, photo by Asia Ward. 2022

Message wall prompt:

What are your hopes and fears for the future of life on Earth?

Each Tardigrade has a designated year:

Many climate scientists say we have until 2027 to take bold action to avoid climate disaster. If humans can keep global warming under 1.5°C (2.7° F), we reduce the risk of catastrophic heat and drought, food scarcity, flooding, and more.

The United States set a goal to have 100% carbon-free energy production by 2035. Achieving this goal will require a major overhaul of the energy system, changing the way we power homes, businesses, and transportation to reduce pollution.

Seven decades separate use from the 1950s, and seven decades separate us from the 2090s. The 1950s are known as the Great Acceleration. Some researchers look back at those years as a turning point when human activities and population growth became unsustainable, putting all life on Earth at risk.

Visitors’ Feelings About the Future as Part of the Anthropocene Collection

After reading thousands of messages, photographing and scanning them for documentation, some themes have emerged.

2027 is within close reach, and messages intended for this time capsule tend to mention pop culture, current events, or personal daily events, worries, or desires. There are references to Netflix series, The Simpsons, comic book-based movies, shootings, the war in Ukraine, Biden, Trump, current unusual weather, COVID-19, the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court case, hashtags, and social media handles. Additionally, the same hopes and fears as well as advice from the other years are mentioned. 2027 also leans more into the hopeful.

2035 contains more hopeful messages, with down to earth fears listed. In the hopeful range, messages list policy or government changes they would like to see and act towards, environmental and social justice, environmental regulation, being rich and famous, completing college and following their dreams, renewable energy and technology reversing Climate Change, climate disaster averted, no more species going extinct, and some general advice as to ‘be kind, compassionate, loving, accepting’ and to vote a certain way, recycle, pray, ‘believe in God.’ In the fear zone, messages list worry about having kids, kids’ future, escalating tension between countries and continued war, more deadly pandemics, natural environment extracted and wasted, too much government control, not enough regulation, and injustice for those with disabilities, women, and people of color.

ten handwritten messages — *Sample of visitor messages for 2095 for* Messengers. Photo by Asia Ward, 2022.

The year with the most messages is 2095. That, for most of us, is far enough in the future where we will be dead, and the following generations will be the ones to read the messages. This batch tends to lead into the fantastical, but perhaps possible? (Dinosaurs coming back, flying cars, interplanetary colonies), the super hopeful (world peace, climate disaster averted, human and non-human rights as norm, world hunger solved) or super fatalistic (humans have killed themselves off with most of the planet’s life, the robots take over Matrix-style, suffocating capitalism or government control, poison by pollution and heightened injustice). There’s also advice about ‘being the change you want to see’ and apologies ‘for screwing you over.’ Personally, I think the reason 2095 has the most messages is because it’s far enough away that it’s easier to remove oneself from the complicated day to day systems we’re involved in (like politics, culture, ethics, and current events), and to see the systems from a bird’s eye view.

What’s incredible about the messages, is that they come from all ages. From misspelled messages from kids just learning how to write and process the world around them, to older generations thinking back on their life and thinking forward for their grandkids.

Observing visitors interacting and reading their messages has been the most rewarding experience I could have asked for as an artist and project manager. Visitors spend so much time there, reading others’ messages, then sitting to write down their thoughts. Families come in and it becomes a family activity, sitting around the table, silent in their writing. I’m glad they feel invited to share their thoughts about the future of life on Earth. I read through every message and prepare them for documentation so they can be included in our collection. There isn’t one reading session where I don’t leave both laughing and crying.

Think about what your life will be like in 5, 13, 73 years.

What are your hopes and fears for the future of life on Earth?

If you would like to contribute to the time capsules, please visit before the We Are Nature: A New Natural History exhibit experience ends in November 2022. The message you write and post to the wall will be sealed inside a time capsule at the end of the exhibition. The capsules and all the messages will be preserved in the museum’s collection and opened in 2027, 2035, and 2095.

Thanks to the Gallery Experience Presenter Staff, the Natural History Interpreters, Events, Visitor Services, Education, Exhibitions, Anthropology, Anthropocene Studies, We Are Nature team, and the volunteers for your help making this installation possible.

Asia Ward is a social practice artist. You can learn more about her work on her website AsiaWard.com.

References

Asia Ward website. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://asiaward.com/

Bordenstein, Sarah. “Tardigrades (Water Bears).” Microbial Life Educational Resources. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://serc.carleton.edu/microbelife/topics/tardigrade/index.html

Carnegie Museum of Natural History website, Nature Crawl June 10^th 2022 registration webpage. Accessed June 2, 2022 https://carnegiemnh.org/event/nature-crawl-21-june/

Carnegie Museum of Natural History website, We Are Nature: A New Natural History webpage. Accessed June 2, 2022. https://carnegiemnh.org/explore/we-are-nature-a-new-natural-history/#:~:text=Carnegie%20Museum%20of%20Natural%20History%20follows%20up%20its%20groundbreaking%202017,time%20to%20our%20own%20times.

Megumu Tsujimoto, Satoshi Imura, Hiroshi Kanda. “Recovery and reproduction of an Antarctic tardigrade retrieved from a moss sample frozen for over 30 years.” Cryobiology. February 2016. Accessed June 2, 2022

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0011224015300134

Myriam Richaud, Emilie Le Goff, Chantal Cazevielle, Fumihisa Ono, Yoshihisa Mori, Naurang L. Saini, Pierre Cuq, Stephen Baghdiguian, Nelly Godefroy, Simon Galas. “Ultrastructural analysis of the dehydrated tardigrade Hypsibius exemplaris unveils an anhydrobiotic-specific architecture.” PubMed Central. March 9^th, 2020. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7062702/

O’Callaghan, Jonathan. “Hardy water bears survive bullet impacts- up to a point.” Science. March 18, 2021. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://www.science.org/content/article/hardy-water-bears-survive-bullet-impacts-point

Waldman, Ariel. “Tested From Home: How to Find Tardigrades in Your Backyard!” YouTube Adam Savage’s Tested, Accessed June 2, 2022. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccmnSXJG3QE

Wianecki, Shannon. “Hawaii’s mysterious water bears.” BBC, Travel. August 21^st, 2016. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20160602-hawaiis-mysterious-water-bears

Wright, Jeremy. “Tardigrada water bears (Also: moss piglets).” Animal Diversity Web. Accessed June 2, 2022.

https://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Tardigrada/#lifespan_longevity

Reckoning with Indigenous sovereignty and US public lands through place names in national parks

by Dr. Bonnie McGill

A person looking at a park map is seated on a mountainside overlooking a river valley with snow capped mountains in the background — *A hiker at Yellowstone National Park. Public domain photo by the National Park Service / Jacob W. Frank.*

US Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland (a member of the Laguna Pueblo) recently initiated a task force to address derogatory place names on federal lands, including names using “squaw.” As the first Native American to serve in her cabinet-level post, Haaland has a deep understanding of the importance of the task force’s work, but is everyone on board?

Why are place names important? According to a recent study I led, addressing place names could be a starting point for reckoning with the US history of dispossession of Indigenous nations from their homelands. The study, published this spring in People and Nature, demonstrates the dual impacts of problematic place names, e.g., commemorating racial violence while simultaneously erasing longstanding and often spiritually connected Indigenous names for landscape features.

The study: “Words are monuments: Patterns in US national park place names perpetuate settler colonial mythologies including white supremacy”

Many consider national parks our nation’s “best idea”ⁱ but don’t realize how park place names cover up the parks’ violent histories. Among the 16 studied national parks and their over 2,200 place names we found:

52 places named for settlers who committed acts of violence against groups, often populations of Indigenous peoples. For example, Mount Doane in Yellowstone National Park, and Harney River in Everglades National Park, both homelands of Indigenous nations, commemorate individuals who led massacres of Indigenous peoples, including women and children.

205 settler place names replacing recorded traditional Indigenous place names. (This count of replacement names is surely an underestimate because written records are biased toward settler histories, much Indigenous knowledge is maintained through oral traditions, and Indigenous knowledge keepers were rarely consulted when settler maps were made.)

10 racial slurs

214 examples of appropriation from Indigenous languages

107 natural features retaining traditional Indigenous place names

Making meaning

Native American groups including the Blackfeetⁱⁱ and Lakota have called for changing place names at national parks and national monuments for over a century (see pictures below). The research my five co-authors and I conducted was in service to such local and national name-changing campaigns. Place names have been used by colonizers and later settlers as a “technology of power” to justify their occupation of Indigenous lands and hierarchical social structuresⁱⁱⁱ. In the words of Indigenous scholar Linda Tuhiwai Smith (Ngāti Awa and Ngāti Porou Māori) “renaming the landscape [as part of the colonial project] was probably as powerful ideologically as changing the land”^iv. To me, the study’s findings demonstrate how place names in the parks contribute, at a system-wide scale, to the erasure of Indigenous sovereignty over their homelands. Reconciling this wrong will require a system-wide response, such as Secretary Haaland’s task force and future task forces to address more than just derogatory names.

Top image is a historic black and white photo showing three Blackfeet leaders traditionally dressed including feathered headdresses and four white men standing around the desk of Stephen Mather, seated. Bottom image is a color photo showing Chief Grier in traditional dress handing a document to a man dressed in national park uniform and ranger hat with men standing behind Chief Grier, including Lee Juan Tyler wearing a traditional feathered headdress. This photo takes place outdoors with Yellowstone National Park in the background. — Native Americans resist settler colonial place names in national parks. Top: Blackfeet leaders Bird Rattler (far left), Curly Bear (second from left) and Wolf Plume (third from left) meet with Stephen Mather, soon-to-be Park Service director (sitting), and others in Washington, DC in 1915 to protest the use of English-language names in Glacier National Park. Photo courtesy of the National Park Service, Harpers Ferry Center. Bottom: In 2018 Chief Stanley Charles Grier of the Piikani Nation gives a Yellowstone National Park deputy superintendent a declaration from several Indigenous Nations demanding a change to the place names Mount Doane and Hayden Valley. Lee Juan Tyler (Shoshone-Bannock Tribes) and Brandon Sazue, Sr. (Crow Creek Sioux) stand in solidarity with Chief Grier. Individuals shown have given the authors permission to use their image. Photo courtesy of Nate Hegyi of Mountain West News Bureau.

In discussions with Kiaayo Tamisoowo (Bear Returning over the Hill) Chief Stanley Grier (Fig. 1B) of the Piikani Nation and Blackfoot Confederacy, he said that our study has

shed important light on the true spirit and facts pertaining to National Park Place Names which were in place since time immemorial by our ancestors. To give Place Names [such as Mt. Doane in Yellowstone] to persons who authorized and who carried out the massacre of approximately 173 of my ancestors in 1870 on the Marias River, Montana is an atrocity that only perpetuates the illegitimate honor of persons that would be classified as War Criminals. Hayden Valley ought to be changed to Buffalo Nations Valley^v and Mount Doane to First Peoples’ Mountain.

I also recently spoke with Chief Arvol Looking Horse, spiritual leader of the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Great Sioux Nation. For decades Chief Looking Horse has sought to change the name of Devils Tower, the enormous, landscape-dominating igneous rock formation in northeastern Wyoming that is the namesake of Devils Tower National Monument. His proposal to change the name of the geologic feature to Bear Lodge has sat with the US Board of Geographic Names since 2015 due to stalling by congressional representatives from Wyoming. Bear Lodge is a sacred site to many native nations including the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota. The site’s current name originated from the mistaken settler belief that Native religious rituals conducted there were forms of devil worship.

When I asked Chief Looking Horse why returning traditional place names is meaningful to him he said,

We as a people of the Earth are connected to Mother Earth, the source of life. Our history is spiritually connected to the Earth. We take care of the Black Hills, the heart of Mother Earth, through ceremony. Returning place names is needed more than ever because of the global disasters. The name of sacred sites came from the spirit, through ceremony, through prayer. For example, Mato Tipila, Bear Lodge is where the White Buffalo Calf Woman brought us the sacred pipe. I am the 19th generation keeper of the sacred pipe. And yet a soldier can just, out of anger and hatred to our people, rename such a sacred place Devils Tower. In our sacred language we don’t even have a word for devil. Returning Mato Tipila, Bears Lodge is the most important derogatory name for Deb Haaland to address.

Some readers might label this study and its attention to place names as a part of cancel culture. To me, that is a red herring that distracts from the need for the dominant US culture to reckon the US history and living legacies of land dispossession and genocide of Native American peoples, a long process repeatedly marked by instances where peoples were separated from their lands.

Reckoning with the past is necessary for all peoples to move forward together into a future that is more equitable and sustainable. This concept is a guiding principle for the work we do in the Anthropocene Studies Section at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Part of my motivation for this work was to understand the kind of restorative actions involved with the reckoning of US history and on-going harms of settler colonialism.

A closing thought on “wilderness”

In popular US culture, our national parks and wilderness areas are thought of as places to escape; places to be out there with “real nature”. But settlers had to first make national parks and wilderness areas free of human occupation. Much of the awe that current national park lands inspired among European colonizers was in part the result of active ecosystem management by Indigenous peoples living with the land. Many national park ecosystems were dramatically changed with the loss of Native American stewardship (e.g. preventing forest fires)^vi.

As the first and now second edition of “We Are Nature” demonstrate for museum visitors, humans are part of, not separate from, nature. In fact, most of terrestrial Earth has been stewarded for thousands of years by Indigenous peoples. So the idea of an uninhabited “wilderness” is less ecological science and more of a settler colonial myth. That doesn’t mean national parks haven’t come to play an important role in conservation of biodiversity or that we shouldn’t visit national parks. I suggest, however, that we visit with greater awareness of park history and of the peoples for whom those lands are their homelands. I also suggest environmentalists use the term wilderness with care and understand it’s social-cultural implications^vii.

Get involved

People can take action by getting involved with a national campaign launched at WordsAreMonuments.org by the social justice pop-up museum, The Natural History Museum. Also, check out this new guide on how individuals, community groups, and Tribal Nations can change place names. The public is also invited to comment on potential replacements for derogatory names on federal lands by April 25.

Bonnie McGill, Ph.D. is a science communication fellow for the Climate and Rural Systems Partnership and based in the Anthropocene Studies Section at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

Notes

^[i] From an essay by Wallace Stegner: “The Best Idea We Ever Had” in Wilderness magazine, Spring 1983 p4-13.

^[ii] A note on Blackfeet vs. Blackfoot: The nation in what is now Montana is Aamskapi Pikuni (Blackfeet Nation, including individuals shown in Fig. 1A), a member of Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot Confederacy), which also includes the Kainai-Blood Tribe, Siksika, Peigan-Piikani (including Chief Grier in Fig. 1B).

^[iii] Rose-Redwood, R., Alderman, D., & Azaryahu, M. (2017). The urban streetscape as political cosmos. In R. Rose-Redwood (Ed.), The Political Life of Urban Streetscapes: Naming, Politics, and Place (pp. 1–24). London: Routledge. doi: 10.4324/9781315554464

Alderman, D. H. (n.d.). Commemorative Place Naming: To Name Place, To Claim the Past, ToRepair Futures. In F. Giraut & M. Houssay-Holzschuch (Eds.), Naming Places. London:ISTE-Wiley. Retrieved from https://www.researchgate.net/publication/341412389

^[iv] Smith, L. T. (2012). Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples (2nd Ed.). 1025 London: Zed Books Ltd.

^[v] The sovereign Tribal Nations of Yellowstone formally requested the Yellowstone Superintendent to support changing Hayden Valley to Buffalo Nations Valley (see Fig. 1B). Ferdinand Hayden was a geologist who led the first federally funded geological survey of Yellowstone in 1871. His report was essential in persuading Congress to establish the national park. His report also called for the forced assimilation or, failing that, extermination of Native Americans. Other writings of his also demonstrate his white supremacist worldview, a tool used by settler colonizers to justify dispossessing Native Americans from their lands.

^[vi] Read more about this in:

Anderson, M. K. (2013). Tending the Wild: Native American Knowledge and the Management of California’s Natural Resources. Oakland: University of California Press; Kimmerer, R. W., & Lake, F. K. (2001).

Maintaining the Mosaic: The role of indigenous burning in land management. Journal of Forestry, 99(11), 36–41. doi: 10.1093/jof/99.11.36

Kimmerer, Robin W. (2012). Braiding Sweetgrasss : Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. (1st ed.). Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions

^[vii] Fletcher et al. 2021. Indigenous knowledge and the shackles of wilderness. PNAS https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2022218118

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