Yaaw Koo.éex’ Herring Ceremony

by Rachel Nyeholt

On May 10, 2025, the Herring Protectors of Sitka, Alaska, commenced a weeklong Koo.éex’, a traditional Łingít gathering and ceremony to honor this season’s yaaw (herring) harvest.

Here, herring carries deep cultural and spiritual significance as an Indigenous food.

Following the successful return of herring earlier in March, as well as the roe harvest that followed, this trip to Sitka was an invitation by Kh’asheechtlaa, Louise Brady, and hosted by the Point House Kiks.ádi clan.

En route from Ketchikan to Sitka, my colleague Catherine and I noticed passengers on the flight wearing woven, light-brown brim hats, while tending to their carry-ons with caution. They must be going to join the ceremony as well.

The morning of the ceremony, we visited the Totem Park at Sitka National Historical Park, for a grounding hike before entering into the visitor’s center for an exhibit to learn more context about the region.

One of the displays featured a K’alyaan aayi tákl’ (Katlian’s Hammer). But the hammer was missing. Instead there was a note, as if the hammer was out for lunch.

The Katlian’s hammer, a symbol for resistance, was being used for clan events. Was it going to be part of the evening Herring ceremony? Likely. Museums will often take items of cultural and historical significance and turn them into unusable artifacts, but this hammer remains as an important memory of the past, while also taking part in an enduring present-day culture. The hammer was a glimpse into the history of Sitka, the resistance of Indigenous people, and a primer for the event to come.

At 1 P.M., we headed over to the Ceremony at the Sitka Historical Museum.

“Guests and Eagles on the left.” That’s us. They tied green bandanas around us as we walked through the doors of the large auditorium of Harrigan Centennial Hall.

There were no pamphlets, no printed materials—just eyes, ears, and hearts wide open.

Elders sat in the front, while “Guests and Eagles” sat on the left, while “Raven” clan members were on the sides. Two aisles, nine rows. Well over 250 people. Łingít clans members arrived, alongside clans that had flown in from all over Alaska, as well as guests from other Indigenous communities—some from as far away as Peru.

The ceremony started with drumming.

The first time I heard the Łingít language, I couldn’t understand a single word, but I was entranced by the rhythmic speech. I tried to understand what was being communicated through tone and body language alone.

In front of us sat a father and his son. The boy wore a spruce root woven hat, and on the back of his vest was a symbol of a killer whale. They were from the Killer Whale clan. I then looked around to notice all the symbols worn by folks in the audience. Colorful, expressive regalia was everywhere, expressing a diversity of tribal connections.

The sorrowing song began. The Big Song, it’s called.

The sorrowing song is a song of pain, but also an important song to the Kiks.ádi clan. After they sang, other clans were invited to respond.

“These are original teachings, not just stories,” a speaker reminded the audience. These teachings are about family, relationships tended and pains experienced.

The Kiks.ádi clan then invited other clans to respond in song or celebration. Some clans sang uplifting songs, while others sang their own sorrowing songs. Some passed the torch to new recognized members to speak.

When the response ended, four members holding wooden staffs gathered in a circle to begin stomping their staffs into the ground. The stomping, they said, helps shift the evening from sorrow to joy.

One of the highlights of the evening was watching the Herring dance performed by the Herring Ladies.

The beauty revealed by the Herring Robes were inspired by the many variations of metallic-blue shades of the herring. The dancers created nine different formations, each sharing the Łingít’s intimate relationship with this keystone fish.

Łingít artist Jennifer Younger had the vision for these robes, while their glittering herring design was designed by local Pacific Northwest artist, Charlie Skultka Jr.. Additional volunteers then worked with textile artist Carol Hughey, at her studio, to create these garments.

Leading up to the event, I had read articles about Kh’asheechtla, Louise Brady (Herring Lady), and had seen her give speeches online. When she finally spoke, in person, there was something so grounding in her voice, so honest, so real. Her words were also encouraging, inspiring, and hopeful.

It became clear that she understood where she was from and what was essential, as someone who had deep conviction to get things done, and done well.

At 7 P.M., dinner begins.

Ravens ate last.

I looked over to see a heaping pile of herring eggs on one person’s plate. I’d never eaten herring eggs, or roe, before. It was delicious, just as it was a privilege to be there, in person, tasting the abundance provided by the ocean, witnessing and participating in a ceremony that stretches back untold generations, as well as the contemporary efforts of the Herring Protectors.

The Herring Protectors and their guests celebrated all night and into the next morning. I barely made it to midnight, returning to my room at the Sitka Fine Arts Camp to catch a 6 a.m. flight to Portland.

But it was on my early morning taxi to the airport that I saw it, the true spirit of these Herring Protectors, still gathered at dawn, staying up all night to honor the herring, the harvest, all in gratitude to the Creator for the abundance.

Editor’s note: Rachel Thai works with the Salmon Nation Trust.
For more, read Spencer B. Beebe’s journey to Sitka’s herring harvest.