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Before the Hunt: Preparing for Respectful Arctic Research in Community

🌿 From the Land: Shared Preparation Before the Ugruk Hunt

Ugruk season doesn’t begin the moment someone spots a seal on the ice.
It begins long before that—with quiet, steady preparation rooted in shared responsibility.

Before there is a full iñisaq of meat, there is a lot of preparation to do! This is a lot like preparing for respectful Arctic research

Before there is a full iñisaq of ugruk meat, there is a lot of preparation to do!

You check satellite ice images—compare them to memory of recent years, ask around, watch the weather and wind.

(Can you spot the seals in the video? The nauyaq and seals are feasting on herring in the Kotzebue Sound.)

You start texting your hunting buddies. Who’s going? Who’s bringing what?
You pull out last year’s buckets and realize some need to be replaced.
You check the local store to see if they have buckets in stock and lids that actually fit them.
You check your hunting gear and make sure they’re clean, sharp, and ready to go.
You clean your iñisaq—the drying rack—raking the grass and securing the wood.

Storm damaged camp with destroyed iñisaq. All this needs to be repaired, regardless of the weather.

Storm damaged camp with destroyed iñisaq. All this needs to be repaired, regardless of the weather.

You check the boat. Check the motor. Check the radio. Charge your GPS.
You have coffee with an Elder to reminisce, learn, and get them as excited as you are.

Corina's kids Tyler and Cassidy with three ugruks in past seasons

Corina’s kids Tyler and Cassidy with three ugruks in past seasons with the iñisaq in working condition.

And maybe most important:
You talk through who you hope to give ugruk to—who are your regular Elders, who offers to help with gas, who would love a taste of the soul-filling ‘good life’ again, who are your family members near and far. You remember them through the whole arduous process.

You get ready, knowing the ice will change.
You get ready, knowing you’ll continually adapt to daily changes in weather.
You get ready, together.

Sometimes this preparation is technical—supplies, coordination, safety.
Sometimes it’s relational—based on memories, your desire to give back, and ‘dancing’ with community rhythms.
Sometimes it’s emotional—held in silence, anticipation, shared excitement, and trust.

And it’s all work. A LOT of work! 

Corina here: Cana, being in school for so long, was always gifted niqipiaq and didn’t have to work for it (Cana: HEY!!!!!). A couple of years ago, I gave Cana and her husband Michael a Ziplock gallon bag of already cut-up, dried ugruk meat… soon to find out he ate the whole thing like popcorn (gone in like 2 seconds lol). I told her, “I won’t give you any more until you come up and help. You need to experience the whole painstaking process!” They’ll eat them a little slower knowing how much work goes into every single bite! (Cana: It’s true – and guess who is home right now to help with ugruk season??!?!!)

Cana and Corina

Corina and Cana goofing off together because Cana is always happy to be home in Kotzebue!

This kind of community-based research preparation doesn’t show up in publications.
It doesn’t make headlines or win awards.

But it does shape everything that comes after.

When preparing for respectful Arctic research, this kind of groundwork is essential—not just packing lists or equipment, but the effort to think ahead about relationships, responsibilities, and outcomes that will ripple beyond the work itself.

🏛️ From the Institutions: Relational Readiness in Arctic Fieldwork

In her essay Cultural Rhetorics Methodology as Praxis, Riley-Mukavetz (2014) reminds us that getting ready for Arctic fieldwork is more than project logistics. Building and tending relationships—with people, with land, with timelines, and with accountability—are foundational activities that need careful attention and preparation!

“Respect, reciprocity, and accountability are not just things to do to be ethical, but a way to cultivate and maintain the relationships we form with people, spaces, land, and the universe” (Riley-Mukavetz, 2014, p. 113).

Angela Haas, in Wampum as Hypertext (2007), frames wampum belts as a form of Indigenous record-keeping (technical communication!), governance, and rhetorical sovereignty. Preparing for interpreting a belt is a community-based process—attentive and accountable. But Haas also notes that wampum carries more than one meaning. The materials themselves hold layered stories, activated differently depending on who interacts with them, when, and why.

In this way, preparation in research—just like with wampum—isn’t just for a single purpose. It’s meaning that deepens through shared context and relational use. Each act of getting ready—each conversation, each plan, each check-in—holds more than one story. It holds legacy, learning, and the quiet anticipation of what’s coming.

Cutting blubber off of ugruk skins. This is HEAVY and slippery work that is essential for making seal oil and preparing skins.

Cutting blubber off of ugruk skins. This is HEAVY and slippery work that is essential for making seal oil and preparing skins.

When Cana began her PhD in a technical communication and rhetoric program in 2017 (Go Aggies!) it was the first time she was assigned readings by Indigenous scholars like Riley-Mukavetz and Haas.

It changed everything.

Cana smiling and happy to be home in Kotzebue after a long school year!

Cana smiling and happy to be home in Kotzebue after a long school year!

Until then, research had often felt extractive and exclusive—designed to benefit others rather than the people living the experiences and in the conditions being studied. And Cana was relieved to have a different path to follow for her own work, or a different way to prepare for her future role as a researcher. Reading the work of Riley-Mukavetz, Haas, and other Indigenous scholars in her field made space for something else:

A way to do research that was accountable.
A way to build scholarship that could directly benefit our people.
A way to see the layered meanings of Indigenous Knowledges and how they contribute to rigorous science.

This kind of community-based research isn’t flashy or easy. And because community-based research is responsive to the ever-changing needs of a community in an ever-changing context, it can feel that you’ll never be fully prepared to do it right… or even well.

As Cana often laments (HEY!!!!!), no one gives out congratulations for “invisible work” like showing up with a good attitude even when it feels like things are falling apart. There isn’t a space in Cana’s promotion and tenure dossier for things like, “baked cupcakes for a community bake sale during fieldwork because that seemed important.”

But it’s how belief builds—quietly, in the background, in the actions we choose to take long before any publication or grant proposal.

🧭 TYB Framework: This Week’s Practice

This week, we focus on:

Know Who You Are
What kind of preparation do you tend to skip? What relationships deserve your attention-now and throughout the process?

Hope Reinforced by Grit (+ Invest in a Community of Support)
Who’s helping you get ready—especially those that help you to move through growing pains and uncertainty—and who are you preparing with, not just for?

This Week’s Challenge: Prep Like It Matters

Choose something you’re preparing for—a project, a trip, a conversation.
Now pause and ask:

  • Who else is part of this preparation with me?
  • What tools, relationships, or perspectives am I overlooking?
  • Is there someone I need to check in with before I move forward?

Then take one small action:
Send a message. Share your plan. Ask a question. Offer to prep together.

If it feels right, share using:
#TheYearofBelief | #TYBPrep

“Here’s how I’m getting ready—and who’s helping me get there.”

Post your ideas for first steps in comments, on our EAR Facebook GroupARCUS’s Connect the Arctic portal, or simply reach out to someone who’s part of your prep process.

🌬 Remembering Forward

Getting ready for Arctic fieldwork isn’t extra.
It’s the essential first part of successful work.

Kids playing (and watching) while adults cut ugruk. This is an essential part of preparation of the next generation.

Kids playing (and watching) while adults cut ugruk. This is an essential part of preparation of the next generation.

It takes time.
It often goes unseen.
And it shouldn’t be done alone.

You don’t need to have everything in place.
But you do need to be thorough and responsible for how you begin—and who you begin with.

This kind of shared preparation is how trust is built.
It’s how belief gets a real chance to grow.

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