Long before Wisconsin was America’s Dairyland, it was home to dense, diverse forests. Some of the earliest and most sacred stories told within the Badger State are about how Native people thrived within the woods. Although much has changed since the glaciers carved out the path for trees, the forest remains an invaluable resource for each generation of Wisconsinites.
Last fall, father-daughter duo Jerry Apps and Susan Apps-Bodilly published the book “Timber! A Northwoods Story of Lumberjacks, Logging, and the Land.” The text is aimed at educating children in grades 3-5, but it offers a rich narrative alongside historical photos, quotes from archival correspondence and relatable discussion questions that can engage readers of all ages. Dedicated “To the next generations of young people responsible for caring for our forests,” the historical narrative resonates strongest during a Wisconsin winter.
Beginning with an overview of how Wisconsin’s original Native American inhabitants “have lived on this land since time began,” the text explains how those ancestors “believed the land should be treated with respect” and that “this is a belief that Native peoples still have today.”
The authors discuss how the arrival of Europeans led to “changes to the land.” They highlight how the 19th century encroachment of settlers brought land cessions through the use of “forced” and “pressured” treaties. Wisconsin land was then surveyed, divided and sold to non-Native people, beginning the logging boon that built our state.
The Appses reveal how white pine became “the tree of choice” for Wisconsin loggers, as it is “soft but tough” and has the ability to “float in water.”
The winter months were favored for labor, because there were no insects. The frozen ground made it easier to move logs, and local farmers were able to pick up an axe to lend a hand while their fields were covered with snow. The spring thaw meant Wisconsin’s rivers could easily transport the timber to the mills popping up throughout the Northwoods.
The Appses proceed to take readers from the setup of a logging camp through the mythology of “telling tall tales” about the Hodag and Paul Bunyan. The upshot is that they capture the necessity of shared the cultural stories and music produced and perpetuated in the logging community around the turn of the 20th century.
The book is perhaps most applicable when its authors discuss how the scientists and environmentalists warned against the dangers of clear-cutting. They contend that the combination of cutover land and drought led to the infamous 1871 Peshtigo Fire, showing how overharvesting perpetuated one of Wisconsin’s most infamous disasters.
From the fervor of axes to the necessity of land stewardship, the Appses explain how government-funded conservation efforts began in 1924. The history of state-sponsored reforestation projects is rife with stops and starts, but there’s no doubt that responsible forestry practices thrive throughout our state today.
Throughout it all, the Menominee people have led the way in sustainable forestry practices. The Appses quote Chief Oshkosh’s 1854 instructions: “Start with the rising sun and work towards the setting sun, but take only the mature trees, the sick trees, and the trees that have fallen. When you reach the end of the reservation, turn and cut from the setting sun to the rising sun, and the trees will last forever.”
After many diplomatic efforts with state and federal bureaucrats, the Menominee people won the right to build a mill in Neopit in 1908 and run it according to Oshkosh’s advice. Today, Menominee Tribal Enterprises “cuts about 15 million feet of lumber each year,” yet they have more board feet standing in their forest than when they began.
A decade ago, Menominee Forest Manager Marshall Pecore said, “The things that we do is intelligent tinkering. We don’t have all the answers. One of the important things with tinkering is keep all the pieces, so we’re trying to keep all the pieces of the forest together.”
Pecore added: “It is part of the ancestral lands and seeing it held intact I think has enabled the Menominee to maintain their cultural identity.”
The state’s terrain has demonstrably changed since the time of glacial erosion, but the plentiful resources of the natural landscape remain. Each new generation of Wisconsinites would do well to learn about the history of the forest, recognize the ways it is ingrained in our collective character and appreciate the necessity of preserving the gifts it offers for future generations.
Ryan Winn, Ph.D., teaches communications, English, history and theater at the College of Menominee Nation. Visit www.menominee.edu for more information about the school.
