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| Ideogram. A Dene woman, 600 CE. |
Somewhere in the boreal forests of the Pacific Northwest, a woman tends a fire. She knows the smell of woodsmoke, the weight of a child on her back, and the names of every edible plant within a days walk.
The woman we might imagine from haplogroup A2a5b'd'e - a branch of the ancient and widespread haplogroup A lineage that has been carried through Indigenous North American populations for thousands of years - would have lived in a world centered on nature, her family's place in it, and deep relational knowledge to land. Her maternal line stretches back to the initial peopling of the Americas, her DNA a thread connecting her to women who crossed Beringia perhaps 15,000 years earlier. By 600 CE, her people had been home in the region of the Pacific Northwest, present day Canada and Alaska for a very long time.
She was almost certainly part of an Athabaskan-speaking community. They were the ancestors of peoples now known as the Dene, whose territories spread across a vast arc of subarctic and boreal Canada. In the region around modern-day British Columbia or the Yukon, her world was shaped by rivers teeming with salmon, forests thick with spruce and birch, and seasonal rhythms that demanded both intimate ecological knowledge and remarkable physical endurance.
The Shape of a Year
Her life as a mother would have been inseparable from the seasonable round. Spring meant movement - breaking winter camps, following the first runs of salmon up the rivers, gathering the tender shoots and roots that ended months of relative scarcity. She would have known precisely when the soapberries ripened and where the moose calved, knowledge passed down through her mother and her mother's mother, carried in the same mitochondrial line that geneticists would one day catalog.
Summer was the time of abundance and preservation. Salmon were gutted, split, and hung on drying racks. This was the foundation of winter survival, and the work of processing fish was enormous. She would have done much of this work alongside other women, her children nearby, the older ones already learning the techniques that would sustain them. The social world of camp was largely a world of women and children during these busy seasons, with men ranging further for large game.
Autumn brought the urgency of preparation. Meat from caribou and moose had to be dried and cached. Hides needed tanning. This was a laborious process involving brain, water, and hours of working the skin until it was soft and waterproof. From those hides she would fashion clothing for the cold months ahead: tailored garments with sinew thread, shaped to fit her children's growing bodies. A child improperly dressed in the subarctic interior did not survive a bad winter. Her needlework was life-giving.
Winter drew the community inward. Camps clustered near cached food supplies and reliable fuel. Storytelling flourished in the long darkness. Oral traditions encoded knowledge of the land, the spirit world, and the proper relationships between people and animals. These stories were not merely entertainment. They were curriculum, and she was one of their transmitters.
What the DNA remembers
Haplogroup A2a5b is a quiet witness. It carries no memory of names or stories, only the record of maternal inheritance - mothers passing to daughters and sons, and the daughters continuing the line generation after generation, across a continent. When geneticists identify this haplogroup in a living person today, or in ancient remains, they are tracing a line of women that runs unbroken from the ice-age world to the present.
The woman by the fire in 600 CE did not think of herself as a link in a chain. She thought of her children, the state of the salmon cache, the weather coming in from the mountains. But she passed something forward nonetheless - not just her mitochondria, but her knowledge, her language, her ways of being in a particular landscape.
That, too, is a kind of inheritance that travels across time.
