Near a still portion of the Cosumnes River, a dragonfly settled on the turquoise dress of Kimberly Petree, a direct descendant of the Miwok people. With her feet steadied atop underwater sediment, she paid it no mind, bent forward to collect a sample of water in a test tube. A hawk feather, tucked into her braided curls, quivered in the wind as she rose.

“It’s 6.7, Joe,” she shouted to her husband, Joseph Speck, reading the pH measuring test meter in her hand. Speck, who squatted underneath a wall of willow trees, hovered above a toolbox of chemicals and measuring equipment.

On the second Friday of every month, Petree and Speck monitor the river. On what they call a “Work-n-Play Day,” the couple ensures the pH and dissolved oxygen level of the water can support the ecosystem’s inhabitants.

For the last 17 years, the river and its surrounding flora and fauna were managed by the American River Conservancy. But in May, 320 acres of these El Dorado County ancestral lands were returned to Petree, the Miwok people and Native-run Cosumnes Culture and WaterWays nonprofit. The land, known as Ladies Valley, resides along the north fork of the Cosumnes River.

Petree, 54, is the executive director of Cosumnes Culture and WaterWays, and her immediate reaction after the land transfer’s finalization was deep satisfaction.

“After over a century of dispossession, it was a little surreal,” Petree said. “It was a reconnection, and I think it’s really beautiful for the future of our people to be able to have a land base to connect to.”

cultural memorIES

The El Dorado Band of Miwok Indians live all throughout the area surrounding the river, according to Petree. In the late 17th century, the community’s initial territory spanned from Grizzly Flat to Rancho Marietta, and they lived in harmony under a “headman.” But the Gold Rush disrupted their way of life. In 1966, Highway 50 was constructed through the Rancheria area, and the tribe lost its federal recognition.

As a result, Petree lacked access to her culture as a child. She grew up when a blanket of shame enveloped those that identified as Native prior to the turn of the century, she explained.

“It’s only been cool to be a Native American in this country since the 1970s,” Petree said. “(Native) was a dirty word. We have fought really hard to be able to protect our sites, our cultural resources and our burials, even though we haven’t always had the same protections as other cultures.”

At 17, she took an earnest interest in her lineage and began attending classes at Chapa De Indian Health Auburn Grass Valley taught by her aunt, director of the center. Petree picked up her knack for storytelling and attained what she calls a “genetic memory,” helping her speak to the land and prophesy future natural changes.

Following graduation, she began volunteering with the American River Conservancy.

The American River Conservancy has managed various conservation projects in the upper American River and upper Kumnus River watersheds since 1989, according to Elena DeLacy, executive director of the conservancy.

They prioritize protecting areas under direct threat from subdivision and development. In 2008, the group purchased Ladies Valley for $2.8 million from a private landowner to preserve its wildlife and habitats.

“When we discovered that there were remnants of cultural resources on the land, like bedrock mortars, that indicated that there were Native people living there, and that this was an important ancestral site,” DeLacy said.

LACKING RECOGNITION

Although the El Dorado Band of the Miwok tribe did not have federal recognition, a problem DeLacy said affects many California tribes, the band was permitted to hold regular meetings and ceremonies on the land and discuss placing ownership in their hands.

Thirteen years ago, the conservancy proposed Petree create a Native-based nonprofit or Native land trust to receive a donation of land under state land governance regulations.

“Since their inception, we’ve partnered together over the years,” Petree said. “When they took me out to this land base, they allowed me to spend some time on the land to just get in tune with it.”

Shortly thereafter, Petree approached the then-executive director of ARC, Alan Argott, about acquiring the land through the creation of a nonprofit organization. His response? A simple “yes,” she said.

In 2022, the ARC raised more than $25,000 through an art auction to help Cosumnes Culture and WaterWays manage the land.

“It was a three-year process of dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s, but it’s been about nurturing these connections with the tribe and making sure that they’re in a position to effectively manage the land and feel secure and empowered to do so,” DeLacy said.

GROWING MOVEMENT

She said that the land-back process for the Miwok tribe is just the beginning of a growing movement across the country to return ancestral homelands to regional tribes.

As an organization, the conservancy has begun assisting other tribes in land-back efforts and providing nonprofit grant writing and land work support they request to manage their space.

“I think there’s a lot of support from the state government, and it means that we’re finally expanding our ‘Western mindset’ of what conservation is,” DeLacy said. “I think this movement is helping people connect to land and place more deeply, and it’s just a matter of time before another project like this happens,” DeLacy said.

Petree’s goals with the land are to continue cultural practices, such as cultural burns guided by CalFire, and establish a deeper relationship with it.

“When we take care of the earth, we take care of ourselves,” Petree said. “If the earth thrives, so do we, and so does every living thing in between. It’s going to take a lot of work, but we were given stories to take care of every living thing, and people are recognizing it, and it’s beautiful.”

After water monitoring at last Friday’s “Work-n-Play Day,” Petree shed her turquoise dress to reveal a matching swimsuit. Speckles of light danced atop the river’s surface as her stepdaughter slid in the cold water to join her. Petree’s stepdaughter had been in Alaska for the last 10 years. Reunited after a decade, they waded in the water as statuesque vegetation, hundreds of feet tall, overlooked them and their reacquired homeland.