Psge 10
Spilygy Tymoo, W3rm Springs, Oregon
December 26, 2002
Local experts share the knowledge of their
mothers and ancestors before them
n a time when waste was infre
quent, Rose Mitchell's mother
found a glove on the railroad
tracks. The glove, taken apart at
the seams, served as a pattern
for her mother's hide tanning business
for many years.
Back in the old days, Mitchell's
mother and father traveled to Sisters
where hunters would sell them hides.
There, from the back of their truck,
they would scrap and wash the hides,
while taking glove orders from local
residents.
"They would get around 100 hides,"
says Rose Mitchell.
In her youth Mitchell mosdy did the
scrapping and washing of the fur.
But around 1976, she taught her
self the whole process. Her children
learned the trait too.
Today Mitchell and her adult chil
dren are among the few who still re
tain the knowledge of how to tan hide,
an inherent part of the hunting tradi
tion. Moccasins, burial dresses, wedding
dresses and rawhide-sewn drums are
common traditional uses of the hide.
Modern day items, such as wallets and
watchbands, are also made with animal
skin.
Behind Mitchell's house on Upper
Dry Creek Road, her late husband built
a simple wood shed.
The dirt floor shed is divided into
two, one part for tanning hide and the
other for drying venison.
In the tanning part is a wood stove,
large tin buckets for soaking the hides,
and several tools reminiscent of the
past. In a corner is a pile of dried 'wil
low used for smoking buckskin. She
uses a lava rock to scrap away the thin
epidermal layer of tissue on the inside
of the hide.
On the table lies a pile of deer
hooves. The deer hooves can be used
as bells in powwows, she said.
Inside her house, in the freezer, fro
zen in old socks, are deer brains, an
essential ingredient for tanning hide.
Mitchell tans hide in a traditional way
called brain tanning, a method used by
the Indians of the Columbia River pla
teau. "My mother said, 'Don't let anything
go to waste,'" explains Mitchell.
Not just any stone
The tanning process is time consum
ing and difficult, but rewarding.
"It takes a lot of muscle and pa
tience. But it's really amazing to see the
transformation. An ugly, stinky hide
turns into a beautiful, soft piece of
buckskin," says Lucinda Greene, an
other local tanner.
Like Mitchell, Greene learned the
trade from her mother. Instead of a
tin bucket, Greene tics her hides to the
shore of the Deschutes River near her
home. She weighs the hides down with
rocks.
Tanning refers to the practice of
infusing the animal hide with the pre
servative tannic acid, which prevents
the skin from rotting.
In brains there is tannic acid as well
as other conditioners and oils. The
milky brains solution mixed into the
soaking water of a hide softens the fab
ric. Enzymes in the brains are said to
break down the hide-glues, a thin
gummy layer on the skin.
"After working with brains, my
hands feel like silk," says Greene.
Greene and Mitchell each possess a
family heirloom tool.
The tool is a stick with a large stone
tied to the end with a rounded edge.
The tool is known as the poking stick.
Mitchell's mother traded for the stone
with an old woman near the Columbia
River. Greene's mother received her
stone from Chief Thomas Thompson
Story
and
photos
by
Shannon
Keaveny
In the photos below, TOP
LEFT: Rose Mitchell uses an
old time tool for scrapping
flesh and fur off of the animal
hide. TOP RIGHT: An ancient
tool used for softening the .
hide. A taut tide, strung up, is
poked with this tool on both
sides near a warm fire. This
tool was passed on to
Mitchell by her mother, who
traded for it at the Columbia
River. BOTTOM RIGHT: This
beautiful beaded vest is one
of many traditional items that
can be made with a tanned
hide. BOTTOM LEFT:
Mitchell holds up one of her
finished deer hides.
7
Rose Mitchell in her tanning shed on the Warm Springs Reservation. The string in the
photo is one of many used for stretching hides.
I b
XJ' ,
r I vrv ? -""fry
v ' .
w 1 g'-''
pj X j
fr.ft, I : 1
I I -J
- . ' & i :t - ' ' AW
"It takes a lot of muscle and patience. But it's really amazing to see the
transformation. An ugly, stinky hide turns into a beautiful,
sott piece ot buckskin.
Lucinda Greene, Warm Springs hide tanner
of Celilo Village.
"Rocks were made by spiritual men
on the river. They found a certain rock
and threw it to the ground a certain
amount of times until it was chipped
just right," said Greene.
Chief Thompson gave three rocks
to her mother. Spiritual leader Isaac
McKinley gave her mother another
stone.
A poking stick is used to stretch and
soften a skin that is tied taut about four
feet from a fire.
Greene and Mitchell tan their hides
in similar ways but with subtle differ
ences. First the hides are washed.
Greene then hangs the washed hide in
a tree to dry.
"The older the hide is, the better, in
old hides the tanning solution absorbs
better. The newer ones arc stronger
and need more time for the solution to
absorb," says Greene.
When ready to use, the hide is
soaked in cold water for three to eight
days. The soaked hide is ready when
the hair pulls out easily.
After a soak, the hide's fur and in
ner flesh are scrapped with a sharp tool
on a smooth scrapping pole, The
smooth pole is used to prevent punc
turing holes while scrapping.
A well-squeezed hide is then sub
merged in lukewarm brain water. For
three hides, Mitchell uses about 1.5
gallons of water. Greene puts her
brains in the blender before adding
them to the water. About a pound of
brains will do.
In the time before freezers, the
brains were dried. Greene's mother
cooked the brains at a simmer. Then
she spread the cooked brains between
two pieces of cheesecloth. Sticks would
be inserted on the outside, forming little
squares which were then hung up to
dry.
The hide is left in the brain water
for two to three days. It is then removed
from water, wrung out and stretched
tightly between the stretching frame.
"Stretch it until it turns white," says
Mitchell.
Then the hide is returned to the brain
water for a second soak. Mitchell
doesn't use the same brain water for
this soak. Greene, on the other hand,
thinks the stinkier the water the better.
A tanner knows the enzymic brain
water has permeated the skin by
squeezing the skin.
"if it bubbles, then it's ready," says
Mitchell.
Wrung out again, the hide is stretched
on the frame near a warm fire. There
it is prodded with the poking stick,
breaking the thin epidermis.
High heat will stiffen the hide,
"The hips and neck are the hardest
to soften," says Greene.
After many hours, the "flesh turns
like baby powder," she says.
Brush it off and the tanner has a
white buckskin.
Greene and Mitchell smoke their
hides in the same way, but they use a
different wood. Greene uses rotten
cedar wood and Mitchell uses crushed :
willow. '
Coals from the hot stove are put in
a metal bucket. The wood is placed on
top. Thick smoke billows out. ,
Two to three hides arc sewn together
like a teepee. A denim skirt is sewn to
the bottom and wrapped tightly around
the lip of the bucket.
The hide is watched carefully until
it turns a rich leathery brown.
The going rate for a well-tanned
buckskin is about $100.
Both women agree that a factory
made hide is no comparison to one
made with traditional brain tanning.
A properly tanned hide will keep
you cool in the summer and warm in
the winter. Water will roll off a smoked
hide.
"Tanning hides is a form of
therapy," says Greene. A beaten hide,
transformed into a beautiful buckskin,
serves as a metaphor for life, she says.
"It's kind of like a lost art. Not too
many do it anymore, When someone
wants to learn, 1 just tell them to bring
their hide down to my house and I will
teach them," savs Greene.
: : J