Honor the Plants:

Guidelines For the Respectful Gathering of Wild Edible and Medicinal Plants

 (Rough draft)

            The native in each of us recognizes each of our relations with the same due respect and caring regardless as to whether she has fur, scales, or leaves. We all have the same Mother; we are all sister and brother.

            The dominant culture would have us believe otherwise. We are trained to view relationship as a hierarchy, with us (of course) at the top and animals just below us. Those which most resemble us in form and intelligence – apes, dolphins and whales – come first, with then “lesser animals” following, right on down to the least worm and amoeba. At the bottom of the pyramid we place the plants.

            This structure has conditioned us to extend the most kindness to those immediately below us, with our consideration decreasing as we progress down the pyramid. Thus we can pull, pick and prune without giving it a second thought, whereas we are generally not so casual with animals. As caring as we might feel toward Dolphin, we can quite easily do an about-face and be callous with Dandelion.

            Our gardening approach to plants stems from that dichotomous attitude. After all, those plants exist to feed us, and we will do with them as we see fit to maximize their food value.

            We who forage tend to carry that civilized filter with us. We often cut and pluck as though we were going down a garden row.

            The plants have suggested to me some ways that I can cultivate and practice a respectful relationship with them. When I enter their circle they first ask me to sit down with them, as that helps them feel more comfortable with me than when I stand over them. It automatically helps me to feel more with them than lording over them. We greet each other with our names and our clans, and then we share our stories about how our families are doing, how the turn of the seasons has been for us, and how the future looks to unfold.

            We then discuss our needs, and the needs of those who dwell in our respective Circles of life. As giving is receiving, we are each open to nourishing the other. For example, if her young were up-rooted by a Skunk, and she asked me to plant her fruit so that her colony would again prosper, I would. Or if she told me that the family of chipmunks living nearby was depending upon her berries because the fruit of her other plant kin was sparse this year, I would honor that and not ask her for any for myself. I would know that I would be provided for elsewhere. If she had surplus, and all in her Circle were provided for, she might then invite me to gather of her bounty that I might provide for my own. For she knows that in doing so she will too will be taken care of. Following is that sharing a guideline format:

•     I first lay an offering of a pinch of Kinniknick — a sacred herb mixture I carry with me — before her as a symbolic gesture that I am willing to give in order that I may receive. This slows me down and causes me to think about my actions rather than just jumping in and taking. As I honor her in this way it humbles me because I am there before her, on her level, giving to her, speaking in her language. Before I do anything else I am gifting her that is meaningful to me, something that is a part of me. The herbs I lay before her I have gathered and prepared. Each herb has meaning to me and came to me in a sacred manner. They are imbued with my energy as I carry them close to me at all times. They were dried under my watchful eye, and prepared and kneaded together according to my honored traditions.

•     I do not gather the first of what I come across just in case it be the only plant, or be sparse in that area. I will survey the entire area before beginning to gather.

•     When gathering greens or shoots I will generally take about of what is available. Being accustomed to nourishing others plants generally produce this much surplus and will suffer no ill affect in its removal. With fruit I might take the great majority of the crop if there is more to ripen imminently. If the plant be an annual I might replant some of her seeds so that she reappear. With tubers, such as leeks, I will gather about ¾ of a clump as they readily multiply. The there are tubers such as Jerusalem artichokes which are even more prolific in a good location. I’ll take every tuber I can find, and even then I obviously miss some because the next year the patch is again just as thick if not thicker (they like disturbed soil).

•     Leave plants and fruit that are providing homes and food for insects and other animals. I look for clues such as partially eaten leaves or berries, scat, or spider webs.

•     Consider the time of year. Most wild foods are seasonal, yet some animals depend upon them year-round for their sustenance. For example, some fruits, such as Highbush Cranberry and Hawthorn ripen in the Autumn, yet they persist into the Winter, thus providing a continual food source. So I exercise prudence when gathering such.

•     Practice judicious pruning. Many annual plants produce more lushly and for longer duration if their growing tips are pruned. Ox-eyed Daisy, Nettle, Lambs-quarters, and a host of others will send up side-shoots at leaf junctures when the growing tip is severed. With Milkweed, for example, I’ll harvest the growing tip to include two pairs of leaves and no further as the stem and leaves are tough and less succulent. The next time I come to gather there will be two stems to replace the one; I will harvest them and they will be again replaced. The plants undying goal is to reproduce, which is why they keep sending up shoots. They typically quit growing as soon as they begin to blossom. So this continual pruning stimulates new growth which can continue right to the end of the growing season. Because this method of harvesting stymies reproduction I leave a portion of the patch untouched.

       Because we are all connected, I honor and show respect for myself by showing respect for the plants that sustain my family and me. As we are all children of the same Mother, I honor The Mother when I honor Her children. Thus the sacred manner of my foragings is a ritual thanksgiving for that relationship. The nourishment I gain is more than just physical — I am invigorated by the wholeness of the experience and feel blessed to be able to serve my plant kin by helping them walk their intended paths.