Hunters across Wisconsin have killed more than 300,000 deer so far this deer season.
Lawrence Mann is among those hunters. But his goal is not just to capture the biggest buck; it’s to preserve his Potawatomi culture.
“In our culture, they say a deer knows that it’ll give its life to you days before you even know,” he says. “When you’re out hunting, they’ll present themselves to you because they know that they’re going to give their lives to you.”
Mann is one of many in the Forest County Potawatomi Community trying to remember and revive Potawatomi language and customs.
When Mann harvests a deer, he uses every part of the animal, just like his ancestors did hundreds of years ago.
“I was taught from my elders the best way to honor that animal is to consume the animal,” he says. “If you take a life, it’s up to you to consume it. When you consume that animal, it lives through you again.”
He makes burgers and jerky, canned venison and roasts.
Leftover bone and gristle are ground up and composted for the community farm.
Even the deer’s brain has a purpose.
It can be used to tan the deer’s hide, transforming it into a soft and supple leather, which is then used to make traditional regalia.
Ahshoni Daniels, another cultural teacher, says practices like brain tanning were nearly lost from her tribe.
“All of these years, through the assimilation of Native Americans, this has been kept from us,” she says.
But now, the community is making a concerted effort to bring it back.
Teaching the traditional practice of brain tanning
At the Potawatomi Community Farm, Lawrence Mann uses the deer he hunted to teach a group of community members about traditional tanning.
The animal's hide hangs on a beam as students of all ages – from toddlers to their grandparents – take turns to scrape it clean. They wipe away remaining remnants of fur and membrane until the pearly white hide is nearly transparent when held up to the sunlight.
As they scrape, another teacher, Phil Whiteman, hovers over a steaming pot on the stove.
“I’m making soup,” he says as he whisks away, “but it’s not for humans!”
He’s boiling the deer’s brain, which contains just enough fatty oils to cure a single hide.
Once thoroughly scraped, the group will swirl the hide around and around in this brain solution until it’s soft and slimy. Then they’ll wring out the hide and stretch it out on a wooden frame, massaging it for hours until it’s ready to be sewn into moccasins, tobacco pouches or traditional clothing.
Environmental concerns threaten the continuation of cultural practices
The Forest County Potawatomi Community has seen renewed interest in relearning cultural practices like brain tanning. But in the midst of this cultural revival, tribal members like Lawrence Mann worry environmental concerns will make it challenging to sustain these practices.
Chronic Wasting Disease, for example, is rapidly spreading in deer across the country, with confirmed cases in at least 29 states.
The neurological disease is caused by misfolded proteins which deteriorate an infected animal’s brain – the very body part needed for traditional tanning.
There’s no evidence of CWD passing to humans, but the CDC recommends against eating infected deer, and it says handling brain matter is particularly risky.
“Right now, we’re canning with three generations,” Mann says. “But what happens when this younger generation, these younger kids, when they pick this up, and they can’t eat the deer? And what happens if it gets so bad, they can’t even tan the hide?”
Mann’s most recent concern is about PFAS, the group of manmade chemicals which don’t break down in the environment and have been linked to negative health outcomes.
Evidence of high levels of PFAS in deer meat has prompted ‘do-not-eat’ advisories in some parts of Michigan and Maine. Health officials in Marinette, Wisconsin also advise against eating deer liver and other organs for the same reason.
Adhering to these advisories would make it impossible to use 100 percent of the deer, like Mann is trying to encourage.
“These deer are a barometer of our environment,” he says. “If deer are getting sick, that means our environment is sick. We as native people have always been stewards of the land. We have to get back into protecting our environment.”
Otherwise, Mann says, these cultural practices the Forest County Potawatomi Community has worked so hard to bring back, risk disappearing altogether, and that's not the future Mann wishes for his children.
