Alewives and blueback herring have had a long journey from the Atlantic Ocean to come here to spawn in the fresh waters in Mashpee on Land of the Wampanoag–People of the First Light. For more than 1,200 years they have visited us and still do. They swim all over Massachusetts. In Harper’s magazine in 1885 it was noted that Nemasket River in Middleborough was called an “Indian Journey” when herrings came. Shortly all the rivers will be full. If you see osprey and sea gulls flying above they are a sure sign that herring are here because they love herring also.
Many of us will be checking out the river down near the Mashpee Wampanoag Indian Museum. This writer remembers so well when I was young the fence above the river would be lined up with herring roe for sale in quart and pint jars. On Lake Avenue there was a smoke house full of herring done by the Mills family.
Chief Silent Drum (Vernon Lopez), now 98 years old, says that herring fish are one of our “forever staples” in our diet. It’s all about corned herring, fried herring, smoked herring, fried herring roe, pickled herring, boiled potato, jag (rice & beans), corn meal dumplings with sautéed salt pork or homemade baked beans. Herring are an excellent source of protein and omega-3.
Looking back into your historical info is important to even today’s cultural issues. Aboriginal rights for fishing has been a longtime battle due to state and county laws. The battle for preservation of herring fish and other types of fish began in 1886 when Deacon Watson Hammond, Mashpee Wampanoag and first native state legislator, fought for a bill to prohibit netting of fish in the Vineyard Sound of Barnstable and Mashpee within three miles of the coast, so his people could gather fish near shore or in the rivers. “When this question was before the committee,… I was glad to see the Senate make the limit three miles,” he says. “My people are as poor as any one on the whole Cape…We have to fish with our hands. Gentlemen say that their fishermen must be allowed to come along our shore, and we say come on.”
Understanding historical issues about herring fishing is so important because, believe it or not, it still “connects the dots” as the saying goes. A Massachusetts moratoruim was put in place in 2005 that prohibits herring fishing by all except for the Wampanoag tribal members. It is still effective today.
So many of our folks love herring and their cultural tales are expressed; also, there are those who don’t like herring at all.
“I grew up in the river. Winter and summer, playing as a child. In the spring, there were so many herring that the river was actually black. I caught so many herring and ate so many that I do not like them now. My mother, Hannah Averett, had me get them by the buckets, then I had to clean them. Even though I never cared for herring roe, I cut them out and even sold them to my 4th and 5th grade teacher, Ms. Sigler. Now I like to see them come up the river because I grew up with them. They are relatives.”—Paul (Red Dawn) V. Averett, Mashpee Wampanoag (1957-1973)
“My dad taught me about what I call my cousins the herrings. But I cannot cook them. My family is good at that, Amen!”—Deacon Wayne Jackson
“When I was young I went went to the river all the time with Grandpa Warren Hicks (1923-2000). I learned how to catch herring with hands and net. Grandpa showed me how to check for good and bad roe and how to clean them. I’m not a lover of roe but love herring. Aunt Jerry fried the herring and served it with a slice of bread so we wouldn’t choke on the bones. Me and my daughter will be down at the river soon. I’m looking for the osprey.”—April Hicks, 32, Mashpee Wampanoag
I ran into Delores Mills, Mashpee Wampanoag, in 2010. It was herring season and I asked her, “Do you like fried herring?” Her comment was, “Are you foolish? I was raised on herring and love them and when my husband, Karl, and family are at home at a herring dinner our lips are curling.”
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To Creator, Great Spirit, Dear Lord Jesus: Many Blessings for families of Colorado and Asian shootings.
“Deal well with me, for the sake of your own reputation! Rescue me because you are faithful and good. For I am poor and needy, and my heart is full of pain. I am fading like a shadow at dusk; I am falling like a grasshopper that is brushed aside.” (Psalms 109:21-23)
By Joan Tavares Avant
