#TheYearofBelief | #TYBSealOil
Wait for the Right Wind: The Dance of Seal Oil Timing
🌿 From the Land: The Dance of Seal Oil Timing
This is the time of year when we put away seal oil and black meat—when we prepare for winter by honoring what ugruk has given us. But the process is never simple. The only thing predictable about it is the unpredictability.
Corina calls it a dance.
The dance of seal oil preparation.
You wait. You watch.
You don’t move until the moment is right.
Buckets with blubber inside and a big stirring stick. The rendering process takes time and constant attention.
Too hot? The meat spoils.
Too foggy? The mold comes fast.
Too still? The flies win.
Too quick? Putting the oil and meat away doesn’t sync.
This year, our dance was more unpredictable than ever. We were traveling to Anchorage. The drying rack was ruined by last fall’s big storm. The ice melted in place rather than while moving out of the sound. We were short on time and surrounded by variables. So we adapted.
Boxes of dried ugruk meat in a box heading home from camp.
We froze the meat. We froze the oil. Separately.
We have to wait until we could do it right.
Doing it right takes attention—daily, even hourly. Every strip of meat has a different areas of thickness, a different softness, a different timeline. If you dry it too fast, it gets too hard to chew. Too slow, it molds. If you freeze it and bring it out, every little piece has to re-dry perfectly. Not a drop of moisture can enter the oil or it becomes rancid.
In a 2017 Facebook post, Corina shows off dried ugruk black meat that she rehydrated a bit to make it softer and easier on the teethies.
Some of us like our meat just a little soft inside. Others like it drier. So we put them in jars accordingly. But all of us know: if you’re going to store meat in oil for months, it has to be just so. And that means pulling some strips early, leaving others longer, cutting the parts that are done off and letting the other parts continue to dry, wiping off every fly egg, responding to every shift in sun, rain, temperature, and breeze.
We remember how our Ancestors timed the meat and oil to finish together, with no freezers. Some used a method called blanketing—thinning the meat to speed up drying when the weather threatened delay.
[Here’s a video from Corina’s archives showing Corina cutting the dried ugruk black meat with her fancy cutter.]Now we have more tools. But the labor? The timing? The care?
With the busyness of modern life added to this dance, it’s just as exacting.
This is not just food prep. It’s a personal dialogue with weather, with animals, with tradition.
This is Iñupiaq science. Precision honed over generations.
We adapt not because it’s convenient—but because this practice matters.
Because ugruk gave us this gift.
Because every act of care is a way of remembering forward.
🏛️ From the Institutions: The Science of Knowing When to Move
In Arctic research, unpredictability is often treated as a barrier to progress. It slows things down, interferes with scheduling, and makes funding and planning more complicated. But Indigenous Knowledge systems treat unpredictability as a fact of life—and a source of insight.
In Gryba et al.’s article, “Indigenous Knowledge as a Sole Data Source in Habitat Selection Functions,” (2025), Iñupiat hunters partnered with researchers to build a habitat model for ringed seals using Indigenous Knowledge as the only data source. Not as supporting evidence. Not as anecdote. As the foundation. ((It’s SO cool!))
That knowledge included lived experience of winds, currents, ice conditions, and seal behaviors. The model that resulted was highly effective—comparable to models built with satellite tags or telemetry—but more responsive to actual seasonal shifts. Because it was based on knowledge systems that are designed to adjust. To watch. To wait.
The success of the project wasn’t just in the output. It was in the process. The research team slowed down. They followed Indigenous review timelines. They adjusted when more consultation was needed. They understood that research grounded in Indigenous methods moves at a different pace—and that pace is appropriate to the knowledge system it comes from.
A niqipak feast with fish, seal oil, black meat and other goodies.
This is the kind of respectful Arctic research timing we need more of. One that lets the work breathe. One that values readiness over urgency. One that listens before acting.
Good seal oil doesn’t happen because you force it.
It happens because you respect the conditions.
And good research?
Same thing.
🧭 TYB Framework: Dancing and Timing
- Know who you are
Seal oil preparation reminds us that who we are is shaped by how we respond to unpredictability. We come from people who know how to wait. Who know when to act. Who value care and timing over convenience. Respectful Arctic research asks us to carry that same clarity of identity into our work. - Do the next right thing, even imperfectly
This week’s story shows that sometimes, doing the next right thing means pausing—even when timelines press in. Freezing the meat and the oil separately wasn’t the ideal plan, but it was the right one. In research, too, there will be moments where waiting, shifting, or stepping back is the most ethical choice. - Invest in a community of support
Seal oil can’t be made alone. It requires shared labor, shared watchfulness, shared respect for process. Research that honors Indigenous Knowledge works the same way—it depends on trusted relationships, mutual timing, and a willingness to adjust together. - Reinforce hope with grit
It takes grit to do things right when conditions keep changing. And it takes hope to believe that the work will hold if we’re willing to slow down and adapt. Whether drying meat or building a habitat model, it’s belief in the long-term value of our effort that carries us forward.
This Week’s Challenge: Let Timing Lead
Seal oil doesn’t keep unless we follow the right timing. Research doesn’t hold unless we do the same.
[In the video below from Corina’s archives, she shows the process of putting away seal oil!]This week, choose one part of your research or planning where you’ve been pushing forward. Step back. Ask whether the conditions are actually right—or whether you’re trying to move faster than you should.
Then make a small change: pause a step, reschedule a conversation, review what the weather—literal or institutional—is telling you. Let timing lead, even if it feels slow.
This is the work of learning when to move and when to wait.
If you feel up for it, post your thoughts in the comments, on our EAR Facebook Group, ARCUS’s Connect the Arctic portal.
Remembering Forward
Some things can’t be rushed. Not seal oil. Not relationships. Not respectful Arctic research.
The process matters. How we move, when we act, and whether we listen to what the moment calls for—these all leave a trace in the final outcome.
What we carry forward this week is the discipline of timing. The skill of pausing. Allowing the unpredictable things lead in the dance. The willingness to adapt with care rather than urgency.
Jars of seal oil from previous years stuffed with black meat.
That’s belief in action. That’s readiness that lasts.
