Sacred Rattles with Alicia Daniel

by Alicia Daniel, director of Vermont Master Naturalist

To learn more and register for the rattle-making workshop, click here.

In the spring, you will find me walking along the beaches of Burlington picking up sticks. From the sandy stretches of North Beach and rocky coves at Rock Point to the driftwood strewn reaches of the North Shore, I walk them all like some people walk coastal beaches picking up sea glass. I walk them in the spring before the sticks that I am seeking are burned in secret beach fires or weather too far to be of use to me. I need fresh, strong spring sticks.

I look for ones that are sturdy, preferably beaver or beetle chewed, the length of my forearm and the girth of my finger. I test that they fit comfortably in my hand, that I can bend but not break them. I am collecting them to make into the handles for rattles. Sometimes I know what kind of tree a stick came from. White pine shows itself through the pattern of beetle galleries gnawed into the wood, the nubbiny whorls of tiny branches, the tangy scent of sap and its light tan color. The lake naturally sands the sticks for me removing the bark. I like walking beside the sloshing water that still breathes out the chill of winter ice. I like having the lake, the trees, the beavers and the sandy beaches as my partners in rattle making.

Each fall, I must find corn. I fill the rattles with hard flint corn. Corn doesn’t split and become dusty like beans. It makes a dry pleasing sound. (The tone of each rattle is unique.) I like to know who grew the corn. I like making that connection. One time on a whim in a lean corn year, I ask gentleman farmer friend if he grew it. He said yes. I thought I might get an ear or two. Instead, he led me into in sun porch where dozens of ears of colorful corn were tied together and hanging in the rafters. It was a dizzying sight. Staring up at my heart’s desire, at the dried red and golden husks and the beautiful black, yellow, and orange kernels. So much to love about flint corn. He filled my backpack with dried corn and sent me on my way. I left feeling rich and grateful.

This spring I will be teaching a rattle making workshop. We will gather at Rock Point Center. It has large handmade wooden tables and a view of the lake. I love looking out over the lake. I love that the layout of the building is like the two wings of a butterfly: one side full of nature and one side full of spirit. Wings that flap and swirl nature and spirit together. We will practice how to cut the stiff rawhide into patterns. How to drill holes in it. How to soak it in wild water to make it soft. How to sew it around air balloons, since we won’t have traditional deer bladders. How to fill it with corn and attach it to a stick. How to put heart into it.

Making a rattle, making anything of beauty from natural materials that you collect yourself is a quest, a prayer. Since you feel more in touch with the natural world, you may feel called

upon to thank the spirits. The last evening, we will shuck the corn off the cob into a hand turned wooden bowl. I will drum to call in the elk, who gave the rawhide we will use to make the rattles. Hopefully the spirit elk come to be thanked as they often do and feed on the corn. It is the kind of world I want to live in. One where we remember to give thanks to the spirits and they come in giant billowing herds to receive it.

To learn more and register for the rattle-making workshop, click here.