The invasive emerald ash borer is spreading rapidly across Maine, decimating ash trees in its path. But the small, greenish beetle is also threatening the ancient Wabanaki tradition of basketmaking. That threat has some tribal members questioning the best way forward.
There’s a story that’s been passed down for generations among the Wabanaki people. It says ash trees are the place from which they were all created.
Tom Newell is a citizen of the Passamaquoddy Tribe. He’s also a forester. And right now he’s pounding the log of an ash tree, hitting it with the back of his axe.
Some call that sound the “heartbeat” of the community. But now the community’s “heartbeat” is fading.
Pounding the log makes it easier for it to split into strips. He peels off the layers. Each can take years to form. The strips from this particular log are going to a basket maker who lives down the road.
"She uh, she’s been asking me for ash for like a month," Newell says with a laugh. "So I have to work on this."
We’re on the Indian Township Reservation not far from Calais and the Canadian border. The sound of Newell’s pounding echoes all around us.
"You can hear it through the whole reservation. Sometimes people will come here and just listen. And they park right there. Especially like the elders," Newell says. "They don’t hear it as often as it did back in the day. So, if they hear it, they’ll go looking for the sound and they’ll know to come here usually.”
Ever since 2018, when the emerald ash borer first appeared in Maine, it’s been a race between the beetles and the basket makers to see who will get to the ash trees first.
For Newell, it can sometimes take days to find one.
Newell has been cutting as much ash as he can. He says it’s no longer a question of “if” the emerald ash borer gets to this region, it’s “when.”
“It’s scary. So, we’re doing what we can right now, saving seeds and stockpiling," he says.
Asked whether that means he's preparing for the worst, Newell says yes.
But not everyone agrees with this approach.
Gabriel Frey is a Passamaquoddy basket maker who is weaving together strips of pounded ash wood.
“So right now, I am binding the rim of a pack basket," Frey says.
Frey has been watching as the emerald ash borer gets closer, threatens the ash trees and a tradition that his community is trying to protect.
“As I heard more about it, it became more of a concern," he says.
And he’s seen people start to panic.
“People are going and cutting massive amounts of ash, like cutting as much as they possibly can," he says.
Frey says he understands the reaction but questions the wisdom of leaving nothing for future generations.
“You’re just gonna take everything you possibly can today," he says. "Then you’re ensuring that nothing is gonna be there in the future.”
Frey disagrees with Newell’s philosophy, which is tricky because Newell is his cousin. There is a split in the community, but there isn’t a family feud going on here. At the end of the day, Newell and Frey both want the same thing: to honor the trees.
“I mean, like my grandfather used to say, the best place to store ash is in the forest growing," Frey says.
Frey is still making baskets when he can. Both cousins work together to avoid cutting down any ash trees that produce seeds. And the community, at large, is working to collect and store ash tree seeds.
Basket making is a labor of love and intention, and for community members, it’s hard to imagine what life would be like without it. Every basket tells a story.
But Frey says there isn't a sense of helplessness.
“Because like I feel like our culture isn’t tied to a single material," Frey says.
Indigenous artists are already starting to work with other materials, like birch bark and sweetgrass to make new baskets.
And the baskets they already have will be preserved — in museums, in community centers, and in their homes.
And the baskets will continue to share their stories.
"It’ll just sort of whisper in shifts and changes. It’s just shifting shape a little bit. But it sounds like it continues to talk," Frey says.
So, the “heartbeat” of the community isn’t going away, it’s just changing.
