Its roots, spread out to the four directions, represent the invitation to all to live by the Great Law, which sets forth a vision of right relationships between people and the Earth. The five bundled needles of the white pine represent the union of five tribes: the Onondaga, Seneca, Cayuga, Oneida, and Mohawk. To signify the peace, they cast their weapons into a great hole, on top of which the Peacemaker planted an enormous white pine. On the shore of Onondaga Lake, the Peacemaker gathered together all fifty of the reconciled chiefs. But as the Peacemaker grew to old age, one by one the leaders finally heard the message of peace and set aside their war clubs. Most people of the warring nations turned him away few would listen. The stone canoe signifies the weight of the message with which he was entrusted, the Great Law of Peace. In the seminal Onondaga story of the Peacemaker, a figure appeared across the water of Onondaga Lake during a time of war, a beautiful youth in a white stone canoe. The Nation’s current territory does not even include the heart of their ancestral home, Onondaga Lake, one of Native America’s most sacred sites. But over the years, illegal takings of land by the state of New York diminished the aboriginal Onondaga territories from 2.6 million acres to a tiny reservation of just 7,300 acres. Rights to these lands were guaranteed by treaties between two sovereign nations, Onondaga and the United States.

Historically, it was a mosaic of rich woodlands, expansive cornfields, lakes, and rivers. The ancestral territory of the Onondaga stretches from the Pennsylvania border north to Canada. The first part of this tale is familiar, which makes it no less shameful.

Plumes from smokestacks catch the rosy light above Onondaga Lake, a pewter oval reflecting the sky. I see forests, farms, orchards, and, in the distance, the lights of downtown Syracuse. The highway rises out of the enfolding hills to a ridge, where the land suddenly spreads out below. For the Onondaga, this trip to federal court in Albany to defend their right to care for their land has been a long time coming, a journey of generations. Teachers, students, clan mothers, chiefs, journalists, scientists, activists, and neighbors like me - I see all our faces reflected in the bus windows. Before first light we board a bus and at last light we return, just as the October hills of central New York shade to burgundy and the lights come on in dairy barns for evening chores.

Robin kimmerer