By Jessica Diemer-Eaton, Oct 2018.
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So many Nations of the Eastern Woodlands made and wore feathered robes, including Southern New England communities, Mid-Atlantic Tribes, Gulf Coast villages, peoples of the Ozarks and Midwestern Nations. Whether it covered only the shoulders (or a shoulder), the whole upper body, or extended from the shoulders to the ground, feather mantles varied in style, production, and materials. Most seem to have featured small feathers placed in an orderly fashion, appearing as if they were still on the bird itself. Others may have been a little more random in their feather arrangement. Colors varied… some cloaks showed off the natural colors of fowl, while others were dyed or painted. They also varied in method, some attaching feathers to a twined textile, and others integrating feathers into the garment while weaving it. And many just incorporated feathers into the cordage itself before weaving, making for very intricate and handsome textiles. Some say these feathered garments were light and airy, while others refer to them as warm quilts comparable to European wool blankets. Though the mantles may have looked different culture to culture or even maker to maker, they had in common the ancient indigenous art of featherwork… and most were worn in a way that enveloped the shoulders and upper body in some way, in the same tradition of the post-historic “match-coat.”
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The “Match-coat”
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While there may still exist some debate as to the exact word that “match-coat” was derived from, we do know this Anglicized term comes from the Algonquian language family, and that many dialects of several Eastern Nations have similar words referring to cloaks, robes, dresses, etc. No matter the details, we can agree the matchcoat is a substantial garment meant to be worn or displayed predominantly on the body, whether it was gathered at the waist or thrown over a shoulder, or handsomely arranged cascading down the back, or just haphazardly wrapped around the whole torso. For the purposes of this article (and not to get hung up on historical exceptions or alternatives), we will think of the matchcoat as a “wearing blanket.” -
The matchcoat has endured the test of time, from pre-Columbian clothing to modern regalia. In regards to traditional Delaware dress, James Howard states the “blanket of today’s dancer is, of course, the modern descendant of the beaver fur robes and turkey feather mantles used by the Delaware in their eastern homeland...” In fact historical accounts have made clear that hide and fur robes were the original matchcoats of Eastern Turtle Island, yet less have included feather robes within that definition. But we shouldn’t be too hasty to overlook the feather mantle… as Marshall Becker notes: “Native-made garments called by this Algonquian term [matchcoat] generally were fashioned from animal skins, but feather capes and other wear were placed in the same terminological category.” Noted as early as the mid-1600’s, a Virginia “Match-coat” was listed as consisting of feathers or deerskin. And 18th century descriptions of Delaware feathered textiles likened them to blankets of exceeding warmth, just like the trade wool matchcoats of the same period.
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Wool blankets, obtained by trade in the 16th and 17th centuries, came to replace and redefine the Native matchcoat garment. Though stroud was desirable in and of itself, it also served as a canvas and could be laden in ornamentation of silk, silver and glass. Some were even painted with earth pigments, and I personally believe such a practice harkens back to earlier robes made of dyed or painted feathers.
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The Popular Narrative: Attaching Feathers on Netted Backings
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Most modern feather cloaks and capes, recreated for regalia use, museum displays, or for the noble purpose of reviving traditional skills, are often created by attaching feathers to an already existing netting-like textile backing. Antoine-Simon Le Page du Pratz, while staying in the Louisiana colony neighboring the early 18th century Natchez People, relates that the local women crafted feathered mantles by fastening turkey, duck or swan feathers to old fishnets or mulberry bark fiber textiles. Here we can see, taking our cue from this observation, where using the gillnet-like backing became the popular material to back recreated feathered robes in modern day. And it is this one observation - only one little bit of evidence among many - that has been adopted/endorsed by most modernly as "THE method" used historically, and this method extended by default, assuming other cultures (Muskogee, Iroquoian, Algonquian backgrounds) did the same across the southeast and up along the Atlantic coast.
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But the reader should keep in mind this is but one description of several. He also gives no indication the size of the nets, meaning these may have been nets with smaller gauged loops (maybe not the large gill-netting most of us jump to). In fact, Peter Lindström, of the 17th century New Sweden colony (along the southern Delaware River region), mentions Native feathered “quilts” in which the feathers were fastened to meshes likened to nets, yet finer. We cannot discount Lindström’s observation that they used “meshes like nets, yet very fine” - the keywords being very fine. And James Adair when speaking of Choctaw feather mantles, “they work it in the manner of fine netting.” Du Pratz never communicated the detail of the size of the netting, and it would be presumptuous to assume these were average-sized gillnets rather than finer nets for smaller fish. After all, the other backing he mentions, in contrast to nets, was old mulberry bark fibered mantles – a garment generally thought to be well twined for the sake of specifically wearing against the body.
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Could the fishnets Du Pratz spoke of been just a loose twined net for the purpose of scooping smaller aquatic life? Should we assume all nets, no matter their intended use, be constructed in the classic diamond pattern by knotting method? We do know the process of knotting/looping nets is very ancient in the Eastern Woodlands, but have we possibly overlooked other textiles, imprinted on pottery, that may have been more fishnet than garment in use?
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Envisioning the netted backing of all feathered cloaks as plain large-looped gillnets may not be realistic. Especially for small feather and down feather application (more on that later). And there’s the knots to consider (if not looped). For example classic nets make for larger knots at each intersection. Now there are ways to reduce the size of each knot, but if we were to take our cue from pottery imprints as a guide as to how the netting was created, it’s evident many exhibit deeper knot impressions. Most other Native produced textiles in the Eastern Woodlands, created for the purpose of clothing the body, do not exhibit large knots in the same way fishnets do. These garments, fragments of which are found preserved in caves or by copper or charring, or the imprints they left behind on pottery, can date back a few thousand years. The art of twining is ancient, and such a method utilized the twisting of fibers to secure the warps thoughout the body of the garment… fewer exhibit knotting. With this in mind we should remain cautious considering the prowess of Native textile makers to create fabrics likely intended for comfort as much as aesthetics.
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Sure, I can attest to the discomfort of knots on bare shoulders. And cloaks that reached the ground made for more weight on the shoulders, making those knots dig deeper. But I say this with caution… the reader should keep in mind that the idea or logic of comfort relating to clothing is not just “natural” nor universal - it is in fact very culturally based. With that in mind, I cannot extend or take my personal opinion as fact to judge the comfort quality of netted feather capes on bare shoulders as a supporting “fact.” I can only make a personal observation as an outsider who has no history of growing up wearing these types of garments on a daily basis.
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Nonetheless, “nets” or “netting” has been defined in at least in a few accounts describing the backing of feathered garments. The fact is the netting could have been a finer mesh, and it may have been these smaller-spaced nets that were recycled into the backing of these feather mantles. And sure, these fiber artists could have lined the inside of the cloaks with fur, hide or another textile, for comfort or warmth, but unfortunately such a lining wasn’t observed. Plus it might be counterproductive for any capes intended to be a lighter weight garment (though I will note here, most historical accounts describe featherwork mantles as warm).
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But Have We Been Too One-Sided About This?...
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Could we, as modern textile artists and historians, have been recreating the feather mantle on netted backings all wrong? Penelope Drooker, scholar of Eastern Native textiles, defines two methods used in making feather mantles… the first being a method of using fibers pre-spun with down incorporated or feather-wrapped (more on that method later), or the second: attaching feathers to “both sides of a base fabric” made of natural bark or plant fibers. Could this be the missing element when we think of recreating feathered cloaks on netted backings? After all, the infamous Captain John Smith commented that the feathers on the mantles he observed were so well “woven” that nothing could be seen but the feathers themselves. Is this a clue that even the inside was covered in plumage, whether woven or applied? And such a method would render the final product possibly more comfortable than what may be associated with wearing naked knotted netting. It would also make for a warmer garment, as most historical accounts actually attest to these garments as quite warm, including Smith’s observation that these mantles were “exceedingly warm.”
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And I should point out differences in in intended use of feathered capes and cloaks likely existed - differences that extended over time and space. Southeastern Nations often associate the turkey feather cloak or the swan feather cape with status - a sign of one’s position and influence in his or her community. Ceremonial occasions also called for elaborate feathered garments, which means the construction may be different to everyday clothing as it was worn only sporadically. But many accounts do liken the feather mantle to fur robes – a practical garment for everyday use by the everyday woman or man. Likewise descriptions of the southern featherwork tend to use terms like “lightweight” when describing feather capes (most of which were made in the 20th century). In contrast, descriptions of the feather mantles among the Mid-Atlantic peoples describe such garments as “blankets” or “quilts” that gave “better protection against the cold than the best European blanket (David Zeisberger, mid-18th century).” In review, featherwork, and the base textile that held it together, likely differed more or less across the Woodlands Region based on: 1. Size and construction differences of each garment, 2. Cultural differences in intended use of feathered cloaks (whether status symbols or practical clothing), and 3. Even regional climates that could have affected how the feather mantle was adapted and evolved across space and time.
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But there’s more to feather mantles and their construction than “old fishnets.” Besides just attaching feathers to an already made backing, there exists overwhelming evidence for feathered robes made by incorporating feathers into the textile as it’s being woven.
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James Adair writes “The Choktah… make turkey feather blankets” in the following manner: “they twist the inner end of the feathers very fast into a strong double thread of hemp, or inner bark…” and they work it into a fine netting. - “Fine netting” here likely referring to a twining structure rather than actual knotted fishing nets. Could this be referring to wrapping the feathers around two cords to create feathered strings to then weave the blankets with? (After all, such cordage used in textiles has been recovered at other archaeological sites.) Or could this be referring to securing the feathers into the wefts (consisting of double cords) as the textile was twined? Either way, this is most likely not describing a method of just simply attaching feathers to an old net.
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The Underrepresented Method: Twining Feathers Into the Textile
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Yes, feathers can be attached to a previously created textile, but was it the most practiced method of making feathered textiles across the East? Maybe not. Evidence shows that many incorporated feathers into twined textiles as the textile itself was created (not after). This could be accomplished by securing quill ends into the wefts as they were twisted, or using feather-wrapped cordage for warp-faced textiles, or creating delicate yarns of twisted soft feather material for weft-faced designs.
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From the textiles recovered at Craig Mound, part of the Mississippian residence at the Spiro site, we can see the intricacy of the textiles created to carry feathers. Referring to contents found within dating AD1100-1400’s, “The textiles represented by the samples studied here appear to be either mantles or blankets, although the fragmentary nature of the specimens makes identification of garment types difficult. The manufacturing technique… essentially consists of attaching feather or fur to the "warp of a spaced weft twined fabric." Of the 101 samples tested, over 80 textiles were identified with feathers (the others contained hair only, or were undetermined in its material). By far most feathers were associated with textiles labeled as “cloth” or “tapestry,” the majority being constructed of a “wrapped warp” twining pattern (one cloth bundle featuring goose feathers being constructed with “spaced weft twining”). The rest were feathers identified with “cordage” (and one with “loose fibers”). According to this site, most feathers were secured in a well-twined textile. But these are just fragments of feathered textiles… Speaking of one, very intact, whole feathered textile that was discovered in an Ohio cave: “This interesting ornament, in a gratifying state of preservation, is made from feathers of the owl and the wild turkey, closely interwoven with bast fibers into a crescentic, gorget-like form (Shetrone).”
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Moving from archaeological evidence into historical observations, we see a continuation of the same theme. Issack De Rasieres (1628) writes that some of the Native Peoples have “a covering made of turkey feathers which they understand how to knit together very oddly, with small strings.” DeVries (1642) notes “They also wear coats of turkey’s feathers, which they know how to plait together.” John Heckewelder writes how 18th century Delaware women make these feather blankets “in the most ingenious manner. The feathers, generally those of the turkey and goose, are so curiously arranged and interwoven together with thread and twine.”
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The prowess of these Indigenous fiber artists is well established, their skill evident in thousands of ceramic impressions (clay sherds) and textile remnants, and echoed in early observations made by outsiders. While feathers could be simply attached to old fabrics and netting, incorporating feathers by twining, wrapping, and/or twisting them into the textiles was likely a usual practice.
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Knitting Knots: Native or Not
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There exists a tradition among some Virginia Native communities of securing feathers into textiles through knitting. In the early 20th century, Frank Speck visited Pamunkey Town and met women who not only recalled feathered garments used in the time of their parents, but were able to recreate the process for Speck, providing a cape, bag fronts and moccasin tops all knitted with homespun cotton and feathers of local species. One woman even points out that long crane leg bones were used for the needles needed for knitting in the past. We know featherwork is old in this region, but could knitting be an ancient ingenious art too? Looking at Native textile examples spanning time and space, there certainly exists variations in textile patterns, as much as some “basic” patterns were widespread by hundreds of miles. Such as theories that support possible tension loom use in the pre-Columbian Southeast, researchers and traditionalists look for clues that might support other weaving traditions outside of twining, netting, and braiding/finger-weaving. Even if this specific knitting process is determined to have been adopted from Westerners, it wouldn’t make the method any less valuable to our understanding of native featherwork.
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Descriptions of Feather Sizes
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If you were to hear about a mantle covered in turkey feathers, yet hadn’t seen any examples, you might envision it as covered in large tail or wing feathers. And you wouldn’t be too far off. Many believe the large feathers were utilized on cloaks, and some museums have recreated turkey feather robes decked out in lots of turkey tail feathers. A human effigy pipe artifact nicknamed “Resting Warrior” or “Big Boy” from Craig Mound (Spiro, OK) appears to wear a feather cloak – one that has been interpreted to be a clear sign of large, or at least full feathers used to create such robes. And in one burial discovered in a Kentucky cave in the early 1800’s, a mantle was uncovered that exhibited “large brown feathers” fastened to it.
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Sounds about right, but here’s the thing: According to historical descriptions, it would appear most mantles observed by Europeans were in fact decked out in smaller feathers from the bodies of larger fowl. Even the description of “large brown feathers” from that Kentucky cave burial is subject to scrutiny – we need to interpret that observation in context. For example, Adair says the Choctaw “make turkey feather blankets with the long feathers of the neck and breast of that large fowl.” But as it so happens, the longest feathers from the neck and breast of the turkey are in fact not that long at all, especially when compared to large turkey tail feathers. Our evidence for the use of tail feathers on mantles is rather little compared to the use of smaller feathers… even Du Pratz’s account of using “old fish nets” goes on to state “small turkey feathers are used” (which for me is more evidence that the “old fish nets” were likely very small looped or just an outright twined mesh of sorts which would have provided a suitable backing for smaller turkey body feathers). What is really lacking from early historical accounts is the mention of large turkey feathers on mantles, which one would assume if they took the time to mention small feathers and body feathers, then why would they not mention the large, dramatic tail feathers?
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And please note, this by no means is to say turkey tail feathers were never used on cloaks, only we (interpreters, enthusiasts, traditionalists, curators, etc.) have been focused far too much on large feather use despite the fact the evidence points to smaller body feathers, even downy, as far more desired for use in textile applications. I myself have incorporated large tail feathers near the bottom hems of mantles too, but I do so with caution. Unfortunately celebrating turkey tail-feathered robes comes at the expense of more delicately feathered cloaks more represented in the historical and archaeological records.
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And what about those turkey body feathers? This might seem odd to those unacquainted with the bird before it’s plucked and stuffed into the oven, cause when it comes time to “talk turkey,” we tend to have little to say about this bird’s beauty and more to say about the gravy accompanying the breast meat. Unless it’s the tail feathers, best depicted by the four fingers of a “turkey hand stencil,” we just don’t have much more to say on the topic. The long tail feathers of the turkey are just so iconic in our modern culture - even elementary school children pay homage to the holiday-linked fowl, mainly through their rendition of tail feathers... their construction paper cut-outs are far more colorful than the real thing. But the turkey does have rainbows in his feathers, only not on his long tail feathers.
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In contrast, the beauty of the turkey’s body plumes only become evident when the light hits these almost oil slick-like, iridescent feathers. They reflect a rainbow of colors, and some near the tail (though not long tail feathers) give a sheen of copper. Reflective feathers with a rainbow luster, as in other valued materials like shells, mica and copper, could have evoked connections to water and sky.
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A Feather “Rug” with a Colorful Palette
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Staying on the topic, we must address the use of delicate small feathers and fluffs in featherwork. A feather textile discovered in a Tennessee cave in 1811 was described by John Haywood as an artistic tapestry containing feathers that did not extend anymore than a quarter of an inch from the body of the completed “rug.” His description and use of the term “rug” points to a textile possibly resembling a colorful 'ahu'ula (Hawaiian feather cape). In fact Haywood’s description notes a diverse range of colored feathers used, “green, blue, yellow and black” that gave the impression of multiple shades in the direct sunlight, not unlike the colorful Hawaiian cloaks.
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Indeed color played a role in the aesthetics and likely any symbolism attached to the feathered garments. And not only naturally colored feathers but purposely dyed feathers were used as well. Evidence of feathered textiles from Craig Mound (at Spiro) revealed that most of the feathers analyzed were dyed red or black. De Soto’s men (1540) witnessed “shawls” sporting yellow, vermillion, grey and white feathers. Lindström (1655) notes the “quilts” of bird feathers were painted. William Strachey (1622), referring to the cape sported by a “queen of Chawapo” (a village situated just north of Jamestown), was impressed by her “side cloake, made of blew feathers” so skillfully created that “it seemed like a deepe purple satten.” Moreover, these colorful feathers could be arranged in a design, as John Lawson (1714) points out, “Their feather match coats are very pretty, especially some of them, which are made extraordinary charming, containing several pretty figures wrought in feathers,…”
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The Source of Feathers
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A range of birds were targeted for their feathers and fluff by Indigenous Peoples for use in a variety of applications. But it was turkey and goose feathers that dominated Indigenous robes. Some incorporated duck feathers, others wore white mantles comprised of swan feathers, and in the far south, some wore capes adorned with flamingo feathers. One might suspect then that birds of many kinds, songbirds to migrating cranes, were too singled out for their feathers, whether for the color or the symbolism of the species. However very few examples of garments woven with these types of feathers exist today. Though we may take a cue from recent history, when Frank Speck (1919) inquiring about the tradition of featherwork at Pamunkey Town, an elder resident Margaret Adams submitted featherwork that featured a few cardinal and flicker feathers. Still considering both archaeological data and historical accounts (including Speck’s observations), we can conclude that by far, turkeys were favored for their feathers in the making mantles across the Woodland Region.
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From the Midwest down to the Gulf, then up to the Mid-Atlantic, turkey feathers dominate as a preferred material in creating feather robes. And as much as there could be symbolic reasoning behind it, the ease in gathering enough materials to create such masterpieces probably has much to do with their use. As noted by Craig Mound researchers, though other birds like woodpeckers and falcons are abundant in Mississippian iconography, yet “birds used in the construction of garments are large species with significant quantities of downy feathers. From a labor point of view, this seems logical.” And though researchers often associate these feathered garments with the elite class of large Mississippian settlements, we can’t overlook the use of turkey feather mantles among common persons in early post-historic Native America.
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The Overlooked Feather Fuff in Native Textiles
Often we think of feather robes of Eastern North America as only being made with full-quilled feathers, as in feathers that have pennaceous barbs, as seen in larger body and tail feathers. The findings in that Tennessee cave begs the question, have we overlooked another category of feathers when it comes to these mantles? If we take a lesson from Craig Mound, then yes we have. According to the researchers, “Down was apparently preferred for textile manufacture.” Only 21 of the 80+ samples containing feathers showed pennaceous feather fragments (body or tail feathers), and no sample contained “a largely whole or complete pennaceous feather.” Could these findings at Spiro reflect feather textiles elsewhere? Considering the historical accounts, it just might.
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Conclusion
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As textile artists, traditionalists, enthusiasts and curators, we have often excluded what was probably the dominant method of pre-Columbian featherwork: small feathers and downy, finely woven into bark and plant-based fibers to create colorful and even patterned textiles. So much evidence exists for small feathers (downy, body feathers) used to make mantles and the like, but are often overlooked it in favor of large-feathered cloaks. It’s important to account for the evidence and include, really celebrate, the intricate featherwork that was accomplished by the People of Eastern Turtle Island for thousands of years.
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Though featherwork is not nearly as common an art form in Native communities today as it once was, there are Indigenous fiber artists who continue the tradition and work to revive the art of featherwork. While this has been ongoing for decades, interest in native featherwork has very much increased recently as indigenous fiber arts has also become a more popular focus in recent years. And while the history of Eastern Indigenous textile production has always been fact, popular narratives have often ignored the extent of Native American fiber arts in the Woodlands region. We look forward to a day when woven textiles and feathered blankets are as common knowledge as tanned leather and fur robes.
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(As my personal textile journey continues, I hope to update this article.)
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Sources and Further Reading:
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ARTIFACTS FROM THE CRAIG MOUND AT SPIRO, OKLAHOMA. April K. Sievert, J. Daniel Rogers, and Javier Urcid. Smithsonian Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 49. 2011.
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CEREMONIAL DRESS OF THE DELAWARE MAN. James H. Howard. Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of New Jersey, No. 33, 1976.
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CHAPTERS ON THE ETHNOLOGY OF THE POWHATAN TRIBES OF VIRGINIA. Frank G. Speck. In Indian Notes & Monographs edited by F. W. Hodge, Vol. 1, No. 5, 1028.
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DAVID ZEISBERGER’S HISTORY OF THE NORTHERN AMERICAN INDIANS. Archer Butler Hulbert and William Nathaniel Schwartze, Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Society, 1910.
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FEATHERS IN SOUTHEAST AMERICAN INDIAN CEREMONIALISM. Victoria Lindsay Levine.
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HISTORY, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS OF THE INDIAN NATIONS. John Heckewelder, 1881.
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IDENTIFICATION OF FEATHERS IN TEXTILES FROM THE CRAIG MOUND AT SPIRO, OKLAHOMA. J. Daniel Rogers, Carla J. Dove, Marcy Heacker, and Gary R. Graves. Southeastern Archaeology, Vol. 21, Winter 2002.
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LENAPE FEATHER MANTLES OR CAPES. Jim Rementer, 2014.
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MATCHCOATS: CULTURAL CONSERVATISM AND Change IN ONE ASPECT OF NATIVE AMERICAN CLOTHING. Marshall Becker, 2005.
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MISSISSIPPIAN VILLAGE TEXTILES AT WICKLIFFE. Penelope Ballard Drooker, 1992.
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PREHISTORIC PLIES: A STRUCTURAL AND COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS OF CORDAGE, NETTING, BASKETRY, AND FABRIC FROM OZARK BLUFF SHELTERS. Sandra Clements Scholtz. Arkansas Archeological Survey, 1975.-
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PREHISTORIC TEXTILE ART OF EASTERN UNITED STATES. William Henry Homes. Pgs. 9-46 in Thirteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1891-92, J. W. Powell.
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SOME OHIO AND ROCK SHELTERS BEARING EVIDENCES OF HUMAN OCCUPANCY. H.C. Shetrone. Ohio Archaeological and Historical Publications. Ohio History Journal, Vol 37, Jan. 1928.
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SUN CIRCLES AND HUMAN HANDS: THE SOUTHEASTERN INDIANS ART AND INDUSTRIES. Emma Lila Fundaurk, Mary Douglass Fundaburk Foreman, 2001.
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THE HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS. James Adair, 1775.
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THE TURKEY FEATHER CAPE: MY CREATION FROM BEYOND HISTORY. Robert Perry, 2008. Expedition Magazine, Vol. 33, Issue 2, 1991.
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Regarding the Writer's Interest in Indigenous Featherwork:
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The first time I saw and handled a feather mantle was in the spring of 2002… the historic site I worked for in New Jersey had it tucked away in a closet, as the museum felt it had no way to display it safely (the site was an open-air museum). The cape was impressive, though not a historical artifact but made many years prior. The age was evident. It was made of turkey body feathers, but silly me, still somewhat green to what would become my future passion and career, I made no attempt to note the inside textile that held the feathers in place. I don’t remember what the inside (backside) of the textile looked like, however I do remember my colleague pointing out to me that these styles of capes were generally made with net-like structures. (I inquired as to what had become of the feathered mantle, but the museum had passed from private non-profit hands to the state since I had worked there, and with a major turnover of management the current staff had never seen it. I later made a feather mantle that became incorporated into this site’s interpretive items)
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While I had generally collected information – accounts, archaeological evidence, modern Native commentary – on the topic of these feathered garments since I first touched one in 2002, it wasn't until 2007 when I put the research into action, making my first feather cape. But my momentum picked up in 2011/12, when becoming sick for a long duration encouraged me to pick up more traditional textile skills. It was at this point I started twining my feathers into the mantles. Fast forward 6 years to 2018, and once again another spell of illness has kept me from working (conducting educational programs) which inspired me to report my little bit of research with commentary, as well as acquire yet another skill that allows me to better understand what might have been the process of infusing cordage with feathers, already “feathered” before ever twining the garment (Left: Image of twisted feather down cordage by the writer). In posting this page I hope to add to the general public's knowledge of Indigenous featherwork traditions in the East, but more, I wanted to make this information accessible so it might serve those seeking to revive the featherwork traditions of their ancestors.
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To cite this article:
Diemer-Eaton, Jessica. (2018, October). Feathered Capes, Cloaks, Mantles and Blankets of the Eastern Woodlands. Retrieved from http://woodlandindianedu.com/feathermantlecloakcape.html
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