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Kwakwaka’wakw BClam Gardens^
Motive and Agency in Traditional Northwest Coast Mariculture
Douglas Deur
1
&Adam Dick
2
&Kim Recalma-Clutesi
3
&
Nancy J. Turner
4
Published online: 10 April 2015
#Springer Science+Business Media New York 2015
Abstract The indigenous peoples of the Northwest Coast of
North America actively managed natural resources in diverse
ways to enhance their productivity and proximity. Among
those practices that have escaped the attention of anthropolo-
gists until recently is the traditional management of intertidal
clam beds, which Northwest Coast peoples have enhanced
through techniques such as selective harvests, the removal of
shells and other debris, and the mechanical aeration of the soil
matrix. In some cases, harvesters also removed stones or even
created stone revetments that served to laterally expand sedi-
ments suitable for clam production into previously unusable
portions of the tidal zone. This article presents the only ac-
count of these activities, their motivations, and their outcomes,
based on the first-hand knowledge of a traditional practitioner,
Kwakwaka’wakw Clan Chief Kwaxistalla Adam Dick,
trained in these techniques by elders raised in the nineteenth
century when clam Bgardening^was still widely practiced.
Keywords Clam gardens .Mariculture .Traditional
ecological knowledge .Northwest Coast .Kwakwaka’wakw .
Clan Chief Kwaxistalla Adam Dick
Introduction
Archaeologists, anthropologists and other researchers increas-
ingly recognize that the indigenous peoples of the Northwest
Coast of North America actively managed clam beds well
before European contact, often generating features termed
Bclam gardens.^These anthropogenic ecosystems represent
a single element within an entire suite of managed habitats
and Indigenous resource management systems in this region
(M.K.Anderson2009;Berkes2012; Blackburn and
Anderson 1993; Boyd 1999;Hunnet al. 2003; Lepofsky
and Lertzman 2008;LepofskyandCaldwell2013;Lepofsky
et al. 2015; Minnis and Elisens 2000; Turner and Berkes
2006; Turner et al. 2009a,b). Over the last 15 years, assess-
ments of previously overlooked practices of plant cultivation
(Boyd 1999;Deur1999,2000,2002; Deur and Turner 2005;
Lepofsky and Lertzman 2008;Thornton1999; Turner 1999,
2005; Turner and Clifton 2006; Turner and Peacock 2005;
Turner and Wilson 2008), and management of fish resources
(Butler and Campbell 2004;Hagganet al. 2006;Langdon
2006;Menzies2006;Thorntonet al. 2010) have expanded
nearly monolithic representations of Northwest Coast aborig-
inal peoples as BHunter-Gatherers^towards an understanding
of these peoples as active resource managers and cultivators
(Deur and Turner 2005).
1
Within the context of this broader reassessment of
Northwest Coast resource management traditions, researchers
have recently turned their attention to the human role in the
enhancement of clam beds or Bclam gardens^in coastal
British Columbia. These clam gardens were constructed
1
In fairness, these revisionary statements on Northwest Coast resource
management have roots in an earlier literature that called for a broad
revision of the BHunter-Gatherer^hypothesis in the region. See especially
the papers in Williams and Hunn (1982).
*Douglas Deur
deur@pdx.edu
1
Portland State University, Portland, OR, USA
2
Tsawataineuk First Nation, Qualicum BC, Canada
3
Qualicum First Nation, Qualicum BC, Canada
4
School of the Environment, University of Victoria, Victoria
BC, Canada
Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212
DOI 10.1007/s10745-015-9743-3
and developed in clam-producing areas along the coast
to extend and augment clam habitat, effectively concen-
trating abundant and predictable shellfish resources in
readily accessible locations, proximate to villages and within
the territorial jurisdiction of aboriginal resource managers.
Although the archaeological features associated with these
Bgardens^have been the focus of a small number of published
accounts (Harper et al. 1995,2005; Williams 2006), the pre-
sented paper is the first detailed ethnographic account of these
practices anywhere on the Northwest Coast An emerging lit-
erature, much still unpublished, addresses the integration of
ethnographic data more meaningfully into the analysis of ar-
chaeological features associated with clam gardens (Caldwell
et al. 2012; Caldwell 2013; Lepofsky and Caldwell 2013;
Lepofsky et al. 2015;Jackleyet al. 2015). Practices relating
to clam gardens have been mentioned parenthetically in some
larger anthropological accounts, but with little elaboration on
their genesis, functions, or the dietary and economic signifi-
cance of the shellfish harvested from them (Bouchard and
Kennedy 1990;Carpenteret al. 2000;Deur2000; Ellis and
Swan 1981; Ellis and Wilson 1981;Hagganet al. 2004).
2
This
paper expands this discussion, utilizing previously unreported
ethnographic information regarding traditional management
as well as traditional ecological knowledge of invertebrates
and their habitats.
3
In spite of the paucity of ethnographic accounts of
clam gardening practices, most recent publications are
the result of collaboration among cultural anthropolo-
gists, archaeologists, and a primary source consultant
with first-hand experience in the management and use of clam
gardens, Clan Chief Adam Dick, Kwaxsistalla. Kwaxsistalla,
Clan Chief of Qawadiliqalla (Wolf Clan) within the
Tsawataineuk (D
z
awada7enux
w
) tribe of the Kwakwaka’wakw
(BKwakiutl^) Nation is the principal source for the data
on which this article is based and has also provided
important contributions to the larger literature regarding
clam gardens. He is one of the few individuals –to the best of
our knowledge the only one still living –who was given
training during the twentieth century in the motives and mech-
anisms for clam garden management by family members who
were present when these gardens were still actively used and
managed by a broad segment of Kwakwaka’wakw society
(see below). As the principal aboriginal knowledge-holder,
Kwaxsistalla is included as co-author –an appropriate mech-
anism for acknowledging his fundamental contributions to the
research presented here. The evidence he has provided, in-
creasingly supported by the growing corpus of archaeological
data, suggests that several clam species were a key resource
contributing substantively to the stability and food security of
Kwakwaka’wakw communities (Moss 1993). As his accounts
verify, clam gardens were clearly anthropogenic features, dis-
tinct from natural clam beds, constructed to provide a produc-
tive and predictable food resource (Caldwell et al. 2012;
Groesbeck et al. 2014).
The goals of this paper are fourfold: 1) to correct the
under-reporting of the importance of clams in the subsistence
technologies and seasonal rounds of Kwakwaka’wakw; 2) to
highlight the value of a traditionally trained primary source
consultant in solving an enduring mystery and correcting
an ethnographic oversight; 3) to demonstrate that trained
and designated aboriginal resource stewards were partici-
pating in the active management of shellfish habitats to
achieve specific anticipated dietary and ecological out-
comes; and 4) to help situate clam gardens and their as-
sociated activities within the larger context of a traditional
resource management ethnoecological complex, in which
management of an entire range of resources and land-
scapes is guided by belief systems and social institutions
developed over generations –Bsince the beginning of
time,^for the Kwakwaka’wakw and other Northwest
Coast peoples.
The clam gardens are known in Kwak’wala, the language
of the Kwakwaka’wakw, as loxiwey,Bto roll^atermrelating
to rolling of rocks out of clam beds and into the lower inter-
tidal zone, a primary activity in their creation and mainte-
nance. We refer to them by this term here.
4
Unless otherwise
stated, any quotations and information pertaining to loxiwey
are from Clan Chief Adam Dick, Kwaxsistalla,reflectinghis
first-hand knowledge and experience. Unless indicated other-
wise all aboriginal terms are in Kwak’wala as provided by
Kwaxsistalla, with orthography reviewed by his close relative,
2
Curiously, this literature also focused on the use of these features to
enhance a single species, the butter clam, though oral histories allude to
no fewer than four species being enhanced in clam gardens.
3
Within Native American and Native Canadian communities of the
Northwest Coast, some degree of oral tradition regarding these practices
and associated archaeological features has persisted into the present day.
Moreover, clam garden practices and features have been referenced brief-
ly in various academic accounts of the region over the last three decades
(e.g., Bouchard and Kennedy 1990;Deur2000). Recent attention has
followed the work of geomorphologist, John Harper who identified a
number of rock features along the B.C. coast that could not be explained
by conventional archaeological interpretations, but seemed to suggest
aboriginal management of clam beds (Harper et al. 1995). Seeking
Native knowledge holders with an understanding of their origins, he
was eventually directed to Chief Adam Dick, who elaborated consider-
ably on the origins and functions of these features. These exchanges and
their outcomes were widely publicized as a moment of Brediscovery^in
later, popular treatments such as Williams (2006) and Woods and Woods
(2005), and certain academic accounts such as Harper et al. (2005)and
Caldwell et al. (2012).
4
This spelling is being used as a conventional Anglicization. Randy
Bouchard (pers. comm. to authors, 2003) notes that in the International
Phonetic Alphabet the term would be rendered as lúXwxiwey, meaning
“rolled rocks forming a wall.”The term is an etymological derivative of
the Kwakwala term lúXwa “to roll something round”and closely related
to the term, lúXw kw “rolled rocks to clear area.”
202 Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212
Kwakwaka’wakw historian and language specialist, Dr. Daisy
Sewid-Smith, Mayanilth.
Loxiwey: The Clam Gardens of the Kwakwaka’wakw
The significance of clams as a food source for generations of
Kwakwaka’wakw and other Northwest Coast peoples is gen-
erally under-recognized within classic anthropological ac-
counts, with an admittedly justified focus on salmon as a
dominant source of nutrition (Deur 1999;Moss1993). Yet,
the evidence suggests that clams were also a key and comple-
mentary resource, contributing significantly to the stability
and food security of Kwakwaka’wakw and other coastal com-
munities even from earliest times. Although changes in rela-
tive sea levels and coastlines in the region since the
Pleistocene have confounded the archaeological record,
places such as Namu in Heiltsuk Territory on the Central
Coast, which show virtually continuous occupancy over near-
ly 10,000 years or more, are evidence of peoples’enduring
reliance on clams and other shellfish (Blukis Onat 2002;
Cannon et al. 2008; Haggan et al. 2006).
Although the Kwakiutl may not have been the orig-
inators of the practice, at some point ancestors of the
Kwakwaka’wakw and their relatives and neighbors began to
intensify clam production. They learned, possibly in the
course of routine clam bed harvests, that existing clam habitats
could be improved by clearing away large stones to increase
the sandy area available to clams, and that beaches could be
widened and leveled to create more space suitable for clam
production. This beach expansion was carried out within the
narrow zone in which clams were found in natural conditions
and where there were demonstrable potentials for their surviv-
al (Groesbeck et al. 2014). Oral tradition suggests that clam
harvesters also observed that clams actually grow better when
their substrate is disturbed from time to time, and when dense
populations of clams are thinned out leaving more space for
the smaller ones to grow with less competition (see). Clams
continued regenerate as long as the clams were harvested at a
rate that did not exceed their reproductive capacity and at a
time of the year when their ability to reproduce was not im-
paired, as long as younger clams were left intact or returned to
the beds, and as long as the clam beds were kept clean and
maintained. Thus, the clam gardens are clearly anthropogenic
features, constructed intentionally to provide a productive and
predictable food resource. Despite the fact that they are broad-
ly distributed along the Northwest Coast generally, and espe-
cially within Kwakwaka’wakw territories situated within the
Broughton Archipelago and adjacent islands in the interior
waters between Vancouver Island and the mainland coast –
the focus of the current study (Caldwell et al. 2012;Harper
et al. 2005) - they were scarcely noticed until recently by
archaeologists (Woods and Woods 2005).
The Context of Knowledge: Kwaxsistalla’s Training
in Clam Garden Use and Management
In the early 1930s when he was a child, Kwaxsistalla’s
5
parents, who both held distinct and prominent Clan
Chief titles, hid him from the police who came to take
the children of the remote mainland village of Kingcome
Village, B.C., away to residential school. Prophetic dreams
within the Kwakwaka’wakw community led many to accept
Kwaxsistalla as the future standard bearer of their chiefly pro-
tocols in a predicted future time when colonial cultural pros-
ecutions would cease. His sequestration and cultural training
started at the age of three or four and took place at both
Kingcome and at Deep Harbour, Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
(literally
‘rocks standing vertical’), on a tiny island in the Broughton
Archipelago between the northeast coast of Vancouver Island
and the British Columbia mainland. For most of his youth,
Kwaxsistalla resided at Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
for months at a time,
primarily with his father’s parents. He routinely helped his
grandparents with their seasonal food collecting, an im-
portant part of his education. After they had caught and
smoked their annual supply of salmon at their smoke-
house up the Kingcome River, Kwaxsistalla’s grandpar-
ents took him to a small cabin at Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
for
the rest of the fall and winter. From his grandparents and
various clan leaders, Kwaxsistalla received uncommonly in-
tense instruction in all aspects of food harvesting and manage-
ment, as well as being taught thousands of songs and stories
relating to Kwakwaka’wakw knowledge and practices that
were viewed as essential to his future ascendancy to pivotal
Clan Chief status. Thus, although he did not learn to read or
write (and only learned to speak English later in life) his child-
hood education and experiences were rich and unique. Later,
as a practicing Clan Chief, potlatch director, and commercial
fisherman, he built on his knowledge and the legacy of his
traditional teachers and became himself an educator, not only
of Kwakwaka’wakw but of many academic researchers (e.g.,
Cullis-Suzuki 2007;Deur2000; Deur and Turner 2005;
Deveau 2011;Lloyd2011; Recalma-Clutesi et al. 2007;
Wood s a nd Wood s 2005). Though his knowledge has not been
presented in detail prior to this article, he has served as a
principal consultant to most researchers investigating clam
gardens in the small and recent literature on clam gardens.
Kwaxsistalla learned how to build and maintain clam gar-
dens, how to harvest clams and cockles and how to take care
of the ancient loxiwey at Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
by rolling the large,
basketball-sized rocks from the middle of the beach down to
the low tide line, churning and aerating the soil with digging
5
The Bclam gardens^are known in Kwak’wala, the language of the
Kwakwaka’wakw, as loxiwey,Bto roll^a term relating to rolling of rocks
out of clam beds and into the lower intertidal zone, a primary activity in
their creation and maintenance.
Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212 203
sticks, selectively harvesting clams, and removing obstruc-
tions such as rocks and old shells. In addition to maintaining
existing ancestral loxiwey,Kwaxsistalla was taught to build a
new clam garden. As opportunity has permitted, he has visited
Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
as an adult and dug clams, even though the
beach has not been routinely maintained as it was in the past.
The loxiwey he built as a child is still visible.
Clams in Kwakwaka’wakw Subsistence and Culture
The Kwakwaka’wakw traditionally harvested four species of
clams within the Broughton Archipelago and nearby islands:
gulgulum (littleneck clam, Protothaca staminea), matani
(horse or Bgaper^clam, Tresus nuttallii), gawiganux (butter
clam, Saxidomus giganteus), and joli (cockle, Clinocardium
nuttallii). These species exhibit minor variations in habitat
preference (Table 1;Kozloff1983;Quayle1978).
The Kwakwaka’wakw dug clams by inserting a yew-wood
digging stick (kellakw) into the sandy, gravelly substrate and
wiggling it back and forth to loosen the sediments before
prying up a chunk of the sediments with its embedded clams.
Oral tradition suggests that this activity, called gwalis peten
(‘to wiggle a digging stick to loosen sediment while clam-
ming’), is necessary to the ongoing success of clam produc-
tion. Loose sediments allowed the clams to be more easily
brought to the surface and allowed the sediments to be readily
worked using traditional tools; this also aerates the substrate,
which would have encouraged the growth of the clams.
Intentional churning and aerating of the sediment matrix fo-
cused principally on those areas where clams were apparent
below the surface. Harvesters were trained to proceed gradu-
ally and broadly around the clam beds as they dug, to mini-
mize localized overharvesting The clams were placed into a
sturdy open work basket (lexey) which, when full, was carried
down to the water’s edge and swished through the clean water
to remove any sand and mud from the clams. Butter clams and
cockles, both similar in size, were generally harvested and
prepared together.
Often, Kwakwaka’wakw families cooked clams by
steaming them. This commonly involved constructing a fire
on the beach within a temporary structure of logs to encircle
the fire and hold in the clams. Cooking stones were placed
inside this form and a fire built atop of them. When the stones
were sufficiently hot any unburned wood and the remaining
coals and ash would be removed and the clams were poured
from the baskets directly onto the hot rocks (Boas 1921). For a
small family, such as Kwaxsistalla and his grandparents, only
a small number of clams, perhaps two or three baskets full,
would be cooked at a time. For larger groups, the number of
rocks, the fire, and the number of clams cooked would be
proportionally larger. Hemlock boughs (Tsuga heterophylla),
salal branches (Gaultheria shallon), or blades of bull kelp
(Nereocystis luetkeana) were commonly placed on top of the
clams to trap the heat and steam, but other plant materials were
also sometimes used (Banything that keeps the steam in^), and
a covering of a cedarbark mat (Thuja plicata) or other material
might be placed over the clams. A modest amount of water
might be added as well, although Kwaxsistalla noted that the
clams are so moist they create their own steam in this process.
When the clams were sufficiently cooked, their shells opened.
This cooking method is called qyu’ista. Occasionally, people
boiled or steamed clams in bentwood cedar boxes, using heat-
ed stones added to the water in the box –apracticecalled
nek’iya. Clams could also be roasted directly over the coals
of a fire –a practice called tsisa. The cooked clams were either
eaten immediately or further processed and preserved for stor-
age and trade. Shells were discarded close to processing sites,
aggregating over time into the middens that are characteristic
of this coastline and are of considerable depth proximate to
documented clam garden sites.
Tabl e 1 ThefourmajorClamspeciesoftheloxiwey
Kwak’wala
name
English name
(Scientific name)
Description Habitat
gulgulum littleneck clam,
(Protothaca staminea)
Relatively small clams, 4–6 cm across, white to
tan shells, often with brownish markings;
shallow radiating and concentric ridges across
the outer shell
Mid- to upper sub-tidal and intertidal zone,
burrows up to 8 cm deep in gravel mixed
with coarse sand or mud and broken shell
matani horse or Bgaper^clam
(Tresus nuttallii)
Large ovate-elongate chalky white or yellow shell
with truncate end, up to 20 cm long, with dark
brown or black covering especially around the
edges
Middle and low intertidal and subtidal to 30 m
deep, protected bays and foreshore; buried
up to 1 m deep, in mud and sand of protected
bays and foreshore
gawiganux butter clam
(Saxidomus giganteus)
Shell white to slate grey, up to 15 cm long, large,
black external hinge ligament, well-developed
concentric ridges but no radial ridges
Intertidal and subtidal up to 40 m deep; buried
to 25–35 cm, in mud, sand and gravel
substrate
joli cockle (Clinocardium
nuttallii)
Thick, light tan shells, up to 14 cm aross, with
distinctive radial ribs; prominent large,
pointed Bfoot^
Mostly low intertidal and subtidal up to 30 m
deep; occupies surface, barely buried by
sediments, in muddy fine sand
204 Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212
A common method of preserving clams for winter use or
trade was to smoke-dry them. The clams were steam-cooked
in the usual way, then removed from their shells and skewered
on a cedar stick, and the flesh inserted around two parallel
sticks in a Bfigure 8.^Several clams were skewered together
on a set of these sticks, all with their adductor muscle
Bbuttons^on one side. The skewers full of clams were then
commonly placed near fires or –if quantities were sufficient –
hung from the rafters of smokehouses until they were thor-
oughly smoked, then stored away until needed.
Cockles and littleneck clams, especially the former, were
sometimes cracked open and eaten raw, often right on the
beach, a practice known as t’pa. In general, all parts of the
clams except the black tip of the siphon were eaten. Each part
has its own flavor and texture; the Bbutton^or muscles are
firm and chewy, the exterior mantle edge parts somewhat
elastic, and the plump centre part soft and tender. For the horse
clam, however, typically only the long siphon was eaten, due
to the unpalatability of the remainder of the clam. This con-
temporary information matches earlier literatures addressing
aboriginal use of clam resources (cf. Boas 1921; Ellis and
Swan 1981; Ellis and Wilson 1981).
Despite some variability by species and provenience, clams
are nutritious, being significant sources of protein, Omega-3
fatty acids, Vitamin B-12 and a wide spectrum of essential
minerals such as iron, selenium, copper, potassium, and phos-
phorus. This has ostensibly contributed to their significance
both within the dietary repertoires of Kwakwaka’wakw com-
munities and as a risk-reducing food of importance during
temporary declines in salmon procurement (Turner et al.
2009a,b; Table 2)(seebelow).
The Kwakwaka’wakw traditionally gathered clams only in
the winter months. This was said to be done to avoid the wide-
spread threat of harmful algal blooms (such as paralytic shell-
fish poisoning, known as PSP or Bred tide^)–the rapid in-
creases in waterborne algae that are ingested by the shellfish,
making them temporarily toxic to humans –and because clams
are considered to be at their prime edible stage then (Jamieson
1986). Clams could be gathered as early as October and as late
as the end of February or early March though it is possible that
dates may have varied among locations historically. After this
season, the Kwakwaka’wakw had to avoid clams. If clams are
unsafe due to red tide, their flesh is said to have a greenish cast.
Kwaxsistalla cautioned, BWhen that clam is turning green a
little bit we don’t eat them anymore [because this indicates
potential algal contamination]…. they told me as soon as the
herring spawns, leave the shellfish alone!^
As well as the edible flesh of the clams, their shells had diverse
uses within the traditional toolkit of the Kwakwaka’wakw. For
example, Kwaxsistalla reports that his grandmother used clam
shells to scrape beaver hides. In recent times, Kwakwaka’wakw
people sometimes crushed the shells and used them in their gar-
dens. Especially the large horse clam shells could be used as
containers for collecting tree pitch from Sitka spruce (Picea
sitchensis) and other types of coniferous trees, which was used
as medicine, glue and waterproofing for baskets and canoes.
Clam shells were used for a variety of other purposes, such as
containers for food and oil, ladles, and ornaments.
The Structure and Cultural Context of The Loxiwey
The Kwakwaka’wakw recognized two general categories of
clam beds: those that occurred naturally (ixstawis), and those
that were anthropogenic (loxiwey), the latter being central to
Kwakwaka’wakw subsistence. In contrast, ixstawis were
sought out relatively infrequently and opportunistically, such
as when people were traveling. As Kwaxistalla explains, BYou
can look for a nice ixstawis [clam bed], where you can dig
clams, where you can tsixa [dig] a tsixlamis [natural clam bed,
Tabl e 2 Nutrient composition of Northwest Coast Clams
Nutrients (per 100 g
edible portion)
Clams, raw Clams, boiled,
steamed
Moisture 81.8 g 63.6 g
Energy 71 kcal/ 297 kj 101 kcal/422 kj
Protein 12.8 g 15.6 g
Fat 1 g 2 g
Carbohydrate 2.6 g 5.1 g
Fibre 0 g 0 g
Ash 1.9 g 3.7 g
SAFA 0.094 g 0.19 g
MUFA 0.08 g 0.17 g
PUFA 0.28 g 0.55 g
Retinol 90 μg171μg
B Carotene 0 μg0μg
Vitamin A 90 RE μg171REμg
Vitamin A 90 RAE μg 171 RAE μg
Thiamine 0.08 mg 0.15 mg
Riboflavin 0.213 mg 0.43 mg
Niacin (NE) 4.2 mg 8.1 mg
Folic acid (DFE) 16 μg29μg
Vitamin B
12
49.4 μg99μg
Zinc 1.37 mg 2.73 mg
Iron 14 mg 23 mg
Calcium 46mg 92mg
Phosphorus 169 mg 338 mg
Sodium 56 mg 112 mg
Magnesium 9 mg 18 mg
Copper 344 μg690μg
Manganese 0.5 mg 1 mg
Selenium 24.3 μg64μg
Species not indicated; variability is expected across different clam spe-
cies, at different times of year, and across differing environmental condi-
tions. (From Turner et al. 2009a:36–37)
Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212 205
being dug], when you’re traveling.^The lokiwey,bycontrast,
were readily identified by their rock structures in terrace-like
configurations along the lower tideline, their relatively clear
beaches, as well as by the extraordinarily high density of clams.
The loxiwey’s defining characteristic is that they were ac-
tively monitored and maintained over generations. Their own-
ership by a clan or lineage was recognized; not only the har-
vesting and distribution of the clams, but also the traditional
maintenance of the loxiwey itself was under the authority of
the Ugwamay, or Clan Chiefs and their designates (a point
critical to understanding why Kwaxistalla’schildhood training
involved so much instruction on the matter of loxiwey main-
tenance (cf. Turner et al. 2005). Foremost among the tending
practices was the relocation of any large, movable rocks from
the main beach area to the zone along or just above the low-
tide line. (Accordingly, to the extent that these features are
reported in the works of Boas (1948,1906), they tend to serve
as markers of this position within the tidal column.) As the
term lokiwey implies, the clam gardens are understood to be a
cumulative outcome of this process:
Bclam beds from which rocks have been rolled.^As
Kwaxsistalla notes, Bthat’s why you call it lokiwey,be-
cause you roll those rocks!^Today, linear features,
sometimes containing thousands of rocks rolled in this
manner, are still visible by the around intact lokiwey.
Clams and lokiwey are featured in a number of
Kwakwaka’wakw cultural performances, suggesting their im-
portance even in antiquity. Narratives describe how the first
lokiwey was created by Mink, a powerful being who
established the precedent for a number of cultural activities
and subsistence technologies according to Kwakwa’wakw
oral tradition. Kwaxsistalla also can recount ancient songs
and stories in which the lokiwey is featured; one such song
has a refrain to the effect of BI will go down to the beach and
roll the rocks [to help my mother],^sung by young [dog
children] wishing to help their human mother by providing
her with food. (In this story, other dog siblings sang about
hunting and fishing for the mother –both songs suggest the
traditionally important role of women in the shellfish harvest
(Moss 1993).) In Kwaxsistalla’s words, Kwakwaka’wakw
oral tradition indicates BPeople have been doing this, building
their lokiwey, since the beginning of time. There are some
maybe 2,000 years old on the coast,^which is said to explain,
in part, why these managed environments appear in songs and
oral traditions associated with the distant time of spirit beings
before the advent of modern humanity.
6
In the cosmology of the Kwakwaka’wakw and other indig-
enous peoples of the Northwest Coast, clams have been
regarded as having families and societies equivalent to those
of humans, and with their own abilities and needs. As
Kwaxsistalla expressed it, BWe had the same voice at
the beginning of time –all the animals, the people.^
Thus, humans maintained and enhanced the habitats of
culturally-preferred species, influenced not only by gen-
eral knowledge of the species and ecosystems, but guided by
notions of reciprocity and responsibility to the species on
which they depended. Clams were like their own relatives in
a different form; Kwakwaka’wakw harvesters were motivated
to ensure that clams were able to thrive and have their needs
met; if this was done consistently, it was understood that clams
would continue to support the interests and needs of humans
by presenting themselves more abundantly for harvest (Turner
2005; Turner and Berkes 2006). These factors provided pow-
erful incentives for clam resource intensification –informed
by caloric considerations, certainly –but refracted through a
particular worldview that mediated Kwakwaka’wakw under-
standings and responses to environmental causes and effects.
Furthermore, the clams harvested and processed from the
loxiwey served not only as a regular food and as a survival
food, but also as a valued trade product. Clams obtained
from these cultivated beds and dried could be exchanged to
procure other desired resources such as herring eggs, eulachon
grease, berries, and root vegetables - contributing in diverse
ways to the economic and social capital of Kwakwaka’wakw
communities.
The Mechanics of Clam Gardening
It is reasonable to hypothesize that, consistent with
Kwakwaka’wakw oral tradition, the construction of the
lokiwey served to expand the total numbers and enhance the
size and productivity of clams along the coast (Groesbeck
et al. 2014;Harperet al. 1995;Jackleyet al. 2015). Relying
on natural processes and species already existing in situ in the
intertidal zone, using careful observation and monitoring, and
guided by cultural beliefs, the creators of the lokiwey produced
environments that replicated Bideal^natural clam beds, posi-
tioned at optimum elevations within the intertidal zone, with
sandy and well-aerated sediment.
In terms of the physical design of the loxiwey, the general
pattern is for a substantial bulwark of rocks to be built up
towards the low-tide line around and across a small bay or
cove. On the ocean side the sea floor drops off dramatically.
On the landward side, the deposition of sand and gravel forms
a terrace with the surface flat or very gently sloping towards
the upper beach. This creates a relatively wide area of open
beach that is submerged at high tide and exposed at low tide.
Their intertidal provenience provides for moisture and thermal
regulation of clams, but also facilitates suspension feeding:
6
Another song and story cycle conveyed by Kwaxsistalla mentions the
pronounced appetite for these clams by Tsu n aq w a , a wild being of the
forest (Woods and Woods 2005). Stories of this being are found up and
down the coast, sometimes in association with clams and other natural
resources.
206 Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212
when the tide is up, they thrust their double-tubed siphons up
through a hole in the sand, drawing in water and filtering out
phytoplankton, zooplankton and other organic material.
Human modified clam gardens allowed for a shallow, laminar
layer of water to accumulate on the accumulated sediments,
allowing these functions to continue while also keeping clams
in accessibly shallow portions of the tidal column.
The development of the loxiwey involved the removal of
obstacles both to digging and to clam proliferation. BWe roll
those big rocks down the beach, get them out of the way so we
can dig…you don’t do that and you have all those rocks in the
way.^Winter storms might shift the sands and even the boul-
ders, and uncover more rocks over time, and this is one reason
why the loxiwey need ongoing maintenance (cf. Caldwell et al.
2012). As rocks removed from the surface of the clam beds
were placed in large numbers along a zone corresponding to
the average lowest low-tide line (walamox’galis), over time,
sediment accumulates on the upslope portion of these terrace-
like rock features, often resulting in the gradual seaward ex-
pansion of the harvestable clam beds.
Traditional harvesters also recognized that removing the
larger clams and leaving the smaller, juvenile ones allowed
more space for growth. On this point Kwaxsistalla noted,
BYou leave the small ones behind.^If the small ones were
dug up incidentally, they were simply returned to the loxiwey
with the expectation that they would reoccupy areas where the
concurrent removal of larger clams left a fortuitous gap in the
sediment matrix.
Kwaxsistalla reports Kwakwaka’wakw oral tradition not-
ing that all clam beaches, including lokiwey, where the sedi-
ments are being actively dug have higher clam productivity,
with higher growth rates and larger clam sizes and presumably
faster clam growth rates. The regular turning of the soil results
in a rearrangement of the sediment matrix; brief experiments
undertaken with Kwaxistalla’sguidance show that traditional
digging and aeration techniques allow the fine clay and silt-
sized particles to wash away in successive high tide cycles,
leaving sand-size particles in situ disproportionately (a point
requiring more systematic attention). The absence of this ef-
fect is seen in long-abandoned lokiwey, where sediments can
become anaerobic. As Kwaxsistalla observed, BWhen we
don’t dig, the dirt it gets dark; [it] smells bad.^Sediment of
that type is called kwen’xlis. Moreover, clams harvested from
such anaerobic conditions were said to be often undesirable,
with dark and unpleasant-tasting flesh: a condition called
ya’yeks. Kwaxsistalla stressed, BThey’re ya’yeks…they’re no
good; you don’ttouchit…When you get clams, the first thing
you do is break one. If it’sdark,it’sya’yeks; you don’t use it.^
Clams with this property were historically found on unman-
aged beaches, but were also said to appear if maintenance had
been lagging or discontinued at a lokiwey.
The placement of sediment dug out during the clam harvest
appears to be another factor enhancing the productivity of the
clam beds. When clams are dug in the loxiwey, multiple holes
are commonly dug together in clusters, creating expanding,
shallowly excavated pools on the surface of the clam flats. The
clam diggers do not generally replace all the sediment into
these holes. Rather, at the end of the harvest, much of the sand
and mud is left stockpiled on the margins of the holes. Rising
tidewaters flush medium-sized sediment into the holes, while
fine particles are carried away by the tide and coarser sedi-
ment, rocks and clamshells remain on the margins. Refilling a
recently dug hole was explained to be unnecessary and often
counterproductive.
In addition, when any sediment was returned to the vicinity
of the holes after the clams were selected, the diggers would
remove empty clamshells (gwen’galis ‘clam shell containing
sediment’or xalis ‘empty clam shell’) and broken clamshell
pieces (kabilis), tossing them aside, as part of the ongoing
tending of the beds. This appears to have gradually increased
the concentration of fine-grained sediments within the zone of
clam habitation and facilitated the removal of subsurface ob-
stacles to clam growth. It also likely served, intentionally or
not, to gradually reduce irregularities in the surface of the
loxiwey, as hummocks were excavated and fine sands were
redistributed across the flats, settling in the lowest places
(Harper et al. 1995;Deur2005; Williams 2006).
Cumulatively, these outcomes insured that the total area
available for clam production was increased: BThat’s what
the lokiwey is all about!^Although the loxiwey might be
cleaned and maintained concurrently with the clam harvests,
it is also clear that maintenance and harvesting were concep-
tualized as two separate activities. Oral traditions suggest that
loxiwey maintenance was sometimes carried out independent-
ly of the harvest, possibly at a different time of year if people
were in the area.
The Position of Loxiwey Within Kwakwaka’wakw
Subsistence, Resource Management and Seasonal Rounds
Clams have been a key element of Kwakwaka’wakw subsis-
tence, travel, and settlement patterns for millennia. As
Kwaxsistalla often observed: BWherever you see clam shells,
that’s where people lived.^Harvesting and processing the
clams, and tending the loxiwey were activities that families
and clans included in their seasonal rounds, or seasonal trav-
elling cycles within their territories and sometimes to neigh-
boring areas for visiting and trade. Because clams were a
wintertime resource, people relied on them particularly at
times when other food might not be available before the start
of the growing season, and if stored winter food supplies had
been used up or for some reason destroyed. Thus, in addition
to their role as a regular and favourite food source, clams –Bas
predictable as the tides^–were a Bfall back^food that could,
at times, mean the difference between survival and starvation.
Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212 207
In his childhood, Kwaxsistalla and his grandparents lived
right beside the loxiwey at Deep Harbour, Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
during the winter so were able to dig clams there at any time
between October and March. Kwakwaka’wakw people living
up rivers, such as at Kingcome, however, had to rely on their
relatives living on the islands and outer coastline to bring them
clams, or else had to travel out to the clam beds during the
winter and very early spring to harvest clams themselves.
Right after the end of the usual clam harvesting period, around
late February, people started their seasonal travels to harvest
the other food resources and materials they needed for the
year. Kwaxsistalla recalled, BWe keep moving through the
season.^
The loxiwey also served as an enhanced ecosystem for oth-
er animals. While people were tending and harvesting their
loxiwey, they would also harvest other marine foods in the
vicinity: barnacles and sea cucumbers, for example. (Sea cu-
cumbers were observed to be particularly abundant among the
large rocks that bounded the loxiwey at Deep Harbour,
Kuk
w
aqwisnux
w
.) Predators, including raccoons, mink, and
river otters, also scavenge the loxiwey at low tide. Sea ducks
and geese sometimes feed at loxiwey, churning the sediment
while it is still saturated and pliable, in search of small clams,
worms, and other invertebrates that might be dislodged. While
oral tradition on this point is unclear some of these animals
might have been hunted at the loxiwey historically, a type of
Bgarden hunting^that would have both protected the clams
from excessive predation and provided people with supple-
mental food. The traditional root gardens were used for hunt-
ing in this way, as documented for the Nuxalk of Bella Coola,
with the roots sometimes being dug up and left as bait for
geese and other game birds (Deur 2000;Edwards1979;
Lloyd 2011).
Anthropogenic Ecosystems, Disintensif ication,
and Revitalization
Essential to their significance, lokiwey served to geographical-
ly ‘fix’an immobile food resource in predictable and larger
concentrations, often proximate to major populations and
within the territorial control of clans. Indeed, it is possible that
villages in close proximity to good clam beds experienced
greater food security over time, and grew larger and more
enduring as a result. Many loxiwey had associated settlements
or encampments which served not only to shelter the people
digging clams and tending the clam beds, but as temporary
outposts supporting a whole range of other activities associat-
ed with the seasonal round. A few, however, are found in
isolation (Lepofsky et al. 2015). Oral tradition, supported by
unsystematic observations of loxiwey sites along the coast,
suggests that other structures such as Bcanoe skids^are often
associated with them, sometimes as part of the same larger
rock structures. It may be, too, that the stone fish traps that
predominate up and down the coast (Haggan et al. 2006;
White 2006), that rely on similar rock structures with analo-
gous functions, may have effectively coevolved alongside
loxiwey as part of a larger suite of intertidal technologies.
Chronometric dates have been largely elusive and still pend-
ing for many parts of the coast, though the archaeological
investigations of clam garden development outside of the
Kwakwaka’wakw territory are beginning to suggest the chro-
nology of those areas (Lepofsky et al. 2015). Certainly, evi-
dence suggests that the stone fish traps, eelgrass meadows,
seaweed harvesting rocks, clam gardens, wooden weirs and
traps on the salmon rivers, t’killakw root gardens, crabapple
Borchards^and key tended berry patches may all be anthropo-
genic ecosystems within a complex integrated resource man-
agement system for the Kwakwaka’wakw and other Northwest
Coast Indigenous Peoples (Ames 1991; Deur 1999).
Kwaxsistalla and Mayanilth recount oral traditions sug-
gesting that entire clans or villages might return to their clam
gardens, or even establish new clam gardens, at times when
fish numbers were depressed. At a time known as wayamgalis
(‘no salmon running’), with the realization that the salmon
would not return that year, the Clan Chiefs had to make the
decision to mobilize their people to the clam gardens, incur-
ring considerable risk and cost, sometimes building new hous-
es and other infrastructure. Oral tradition suggests that people
recognized that major environmental disruptions, such as de-
structive freshets occurring during the spawning season, re-
sulted in the absence of fish for some time (commonly, 4 years
for salmon). Similar temporary declines apparently occurred
in eulachon numbers, and again, people might rely on the
clam gardens to carry them through that year, reducing risk
as well as abrupt fluctuations in the economic and social life of
the affected communities (cf. Suttles 1987).
The loxiwey thus appears to have helped facilitate large and
stable populations as reported from the period before the first
Europeans arrived. This was especially true of the Broughton
Islands and vicinity, which was known throughout the
Kwakwaka’wakw realm for its many clam gardens and its
large villages; as Kwaxsistalla emphasized: BThis area was
most populated anywhere on the coast…until the smallpox
came.^Echo Bay on Guilford Island was cited as one such
community, its population reported by Kwaxsistalla to have
been supported in part by the community’s proximity to de-
pendable clam gardens (Donald and Mitchell 1975;Moss
1993).
The epidemics and dislocation that arrived on the
Northwest Coast in the years following (and preceding)
direct contact with European peoples (Boyd 1990)resultedin
catastrophic population decline and a concomitant
Bdisintensification^(Brookfield 1972)ofmanyformerlyman-
aged resources within Kwakwaka’wakw territory and beyond.
Still, during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the
loxiwey were used in ways that allowed Kwakwaka’wakw
208 Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212
communities to persist and adapt to rapidly changing circum-
stances. In the wake of the agonizing demographic contrac-
tions of the nineteenth century, the cumulative demand on
clam resources had been in rapid decline and subsistence-
based incentives for intensifying clam production would have
abated. Moreover, the labor and social mechanisms that were
critical to the maintenance of the loxiwey were undermined by
myriad forms of displacement, including the loss of children
to residential schools.
Simultaneously, aboriginal communities sought inroads in-
to emerging cash and barter economies drawing upon tradi-
tional skills and resources while sometimes adopting non-
Native food products or prioritizing higher-value and higher-
prestige traditional food products in the repertoire of retained
Native food practices (Lutz 2008). Of key importance for
Kwakwaka’wakw leadership in these years was insuring the
continuity of social and ceremonial practices in the face of
disruptive changes, using traditionally harvested natural re-
sources in ways both old and new. Kwaxsistalla notes that
by the 1930s, the sale of clams was an important means of
achieving the wealth required for maintenance of traditional
protocols and prerogatives. The loxiwey in the Broughton
Islands and vicinity were central to this economic enterprise.
Kwaxistalla recalls gathering clams at the loxiwey with his
grandparents for sale to a commercial buyer who passed
through the area periodically by boat and man purchased
clams from Kwakwaka’wakw families for sale in the
Vancouver market. Kwaxistalla worked the flats, gathering
clams into gunnysacks to be sold for 50 cents a sack for butter
clams and 25 cents a sack for the horse clams. The latter were
buried shallower and not as highly valued. As a child,
Kwaxistalla could fill two or three gunnysacks at a time. As
before contact, women were critical to this commercial har-
vest: Bwhen I was quite young, we used to dig clams every
winter. You know, when everybody, all the men [were] in the
Big House potlatch, and all the women are out digging clams.
You know, for 50 cents a [50-lb potato] sack.^
Such participation in clam harvesting has been widely re-
ported along the British Columbia coast as one of the first
points of aboriginal entry into the wage economy (Lutz
2008; Williams 2006). Thus, while the clam beds were used
in a different way in these new economic circumstances, they
still served as Brisk-reducing^resources, helping to sustain
families and traditional cultural practices during challenging
times, their precise values fluctuating with the vagaries of
markets and resource availability. These traditional resources
allowed families to enter into the cash economy, or to maintain
their participation after the decline of other more lucrative
industries such as fur trapping. Over time, clams persisted as
part of an evolving seasonal round and a mixed subsistence
and cash economy that was increasingly restructured to ac-
commodate Native participation as wage labor in commercial
fishing, logging, and other natural resource industries.
Discussion
In recent years, a bold and wide-ranging revisionist movement
has prompted the careful rethinking of the resource manage-
ment practices of the aboriginal peoples of the Northwest
Coast of North America We have come to accept that the
peoples of this region had sophisticated and purposive mech-
anisms for enhancing plots of native roots, berry patches,
salmon stocks, and many other key resource types (e.g.,
Deur and Turner 2005). Clams can now be added to this list.
Recent studies have demonstrated that the practices associated
with clam bed management demonstrably enhanced localized
clam output, and the Northwest Coast abounds in archaeolog-
ical features associated with these practices (Caldwell et al.
2012;Groesbecket al. 2014; Lepofsky and Caldwell 2013).
As this paper illustrates, the aboriginal peoples of the
Northwest Coast carried out these practices in patterned and
intentional ways based on an understanding of environmental
causes and effects within the intertidal zone and with the un-
ambiguous goal of enhancing clam bed productivity. The eth-
nographic, archaeological, and auto-ecological evidence ex-
hibits internal consistencies suggesting that clam Bgardening^
was indisputably part of the resource management toolkit of
aboriginal Northwest Coast peoples and should be factored
into future discussions of resource use and management on
this coast generally.
The fact that clams were utilized extensively by the aborig-
inal peoples of the Northwest Coast of North America had
never been in dispute. Classic sources demonstrate that these
resources were sought out in the course of the seasonal round,
and communities often relocated to clam beds as part of their
larger seasonal round (e.g., Boas 1921). However, with our
access to the rich corpus of Kwakwaka’wakw oral and tech-
nological tradition through Kwaxistalla, Clan Chief Adam
Dick, we can now expand considerably on the ethnographic
data regarding traditional clam use. Clams were not only
sought out opportunistically, but such methods as stone re-
moval, terracing, selective harvesting, and the regular aeration
of the soil matrix allowed the Kwakwaka’wakw and other
aboriginal harvesters of the region to enhance the output of
clam beds. Such actions placed larger and more predictable
concentrations of clams in accessible locations–proximate to
large concentrations of human settlement but also within the
defined and defensible territories of harvesters’clans and vil-
lages. Though clams were certainly an enduring staple in good
times, they might be sought out disproportionately in the
course of the seasonal round, but oral tradition asserts that
they were also used as risk-reducing resources during times
of resource scarcity. The large and immobile populations of
clams in actively managed beds helped to offset abrupt down-
turns in the availability of more mobile and variable species.
As a technological response to communities’resource de-
mands and resource risk, clam gardening was an elegantly
Hum Ecol (2015) 43:201–212 209
simple yet critical mechanism of resource enhancement that
insured the stability of human communities over the long term.
Oral traditions suggest that these functions bolstered social,
demographic, and economic stability, and had myriad impli-
cations for inter-village rank and relations that deserve further
investigation (Donald and Mitchell 1975;Suttles1987).
Clam gardens and other managed landscapes continued to
hold critical roles in Kwakwaka’wakw society in the wake of
the riveting changes of the nineteenth and early twentieth cen-
turies, as they sustained families, provided trade items, and
served as a venue for the training of children (Turner and
Turner 2008). Clams from managed beds that sustained vast
villages and offset perturbations in resource availability in the
precontact period were revisited and maintained for both com-
mercial harvests and subsistence purposes. These managed
clam beds continue to have relevance for aboriginal peoples
today as occasional sources of supplementary food, as a sym-
bolically charged locus of cultural significance as they strug-
gle to retain portions of their traditional food practices for
reasons both dietary and cultural, and as a window into the
traditional technologies, economies, values and knowledge of
their ancestors. Through the current research and recent stud-
ies of clam gardens in allied subfields cited here, aboriginal
peoples also witness a powerful demonstration of the veracity
of their oral traditions. Traditional knowledge of clam bed
management, nearly lost, has been sustained through the work
of Kwaxistalla, Clan Chief Adam Dick, and a handful of
others who have endeavored to recover what living knowl-
edge of this practice that remains. Long overlooked, and ap-
parently consequential in many domains of aboriginal life,
these distinctive subsistence features deserve greater attention
through expanded ethnographic and archaeological documen-
tation and the expanded use of test plots to measure the long-
term effects of documented traditional management tech-
niques on clam productivity (Groesbeck et al. 2014;Jackley
et al. 2015). Investigations of the spatial and temporal corre-
lation between clam garden distribution and settlement densi-
ty (and stability) on the Northwest Coast might also require
consideration pending additional data on clam garden distri-
bution; oral tradition and informal analysis suggest positive
correlations between these phenomena. Archaeological efforts
to examine these questions are now underway, aided by the
findings of ethnographic studies with knowledgeable elders
including Kwaxistalla. It is certain that we will soon know
much more about clam gardens throughout the region. The
clam gardens of the Kwakwaka’wakw may yet hold the po-
tential to teach us more and to sustain aboriginal communities
into the future. Northwest Coast peoples were activemanagers
of the landscape, modifying not only particular species but
entire habitats with purpose and forethought toward specific
ends. This was true of berries, root grounds, and fish runs;
now, clearly, we can add the clam beds to the growing list of
habitats and species so managed.
Acknowledgments The authors wish to thank two anonymous re-
viewers for their comments on this manuscript, as we well as our friend
and colleague Dr. Dana Lepofsky, Simon Fraser University Department
of Archaeology, for her input and encouragement throughout the research
and writing of this article. This research was partially funded by a gener-
ous grant (NGS #8837-10) from the National Geographic Society.
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