Tactics, Trades, Survival
The Fur Trader, Victor Malhiot fostered some of the first detailed records of life at the Trout Lake village. Illistrating the substantial role to fur traders in the 19th Century and the land treaties that followed.
In 1804, François Victor Malhiot—a fur trader for the North West Company—arrived at the remote Lac du Flambeau post in what is now northern Wisconsin. There, he found himself navigating tensions between two Ojibwe bands. His journals from 1804 to 1805 paint a vivid picture of a landscape marked by fragile alliances and simmering hostilities.
One group in particular—the Trout Lake band (Lac de la Truite)—emerged as Malhiot’s closest allies. In contrast, the neighboring Lac du Flambeau band often opposed him. Through detailed accounts of trade, negotiation, and conflict, Malhiot’s writings offer a striking window into his relationship with the Trout Lake Ojibwe and the political dynamics of the Wisconsin fur trade during this era.
By the time of Malhiot’s arrival, the Trout Lake band had already played a critical role in regional trade for centuries. Originally the summer settlement site for the Lac du Flambeau band, Trout Lake became home to families who, for reasons still unclear, chose to remain and form their own village.
Though the two bands were once closely connected, tensions grew when rival fur trade companies entered the region. The Trout Lake Ojibwe aligned themselves with Malhiot and the North West Company, while the Lac du Flambeau band traded almost exclusively with the competing X Y Company.
This division deepened the rift between the groups and made the Trout Lake band indispensable to Malhiot—serving as his confidants and defenders, often at great personal risk.
Malhiot’s journals offer a fresh perspective on the people, politics, and challenges surrounding Trout Lake long before the logging era. They underscore the strategic importance of Red Arrow Camp’s shoreline to the Ojibwe, Fox, and Dakota tribes, who fought to control the lake’s outlet and maintain regional dominance in the fur trade. So vital was this location that its control was contested repeatedly from the 17th through the 19th century.
Malhiot kept detailed notes and records of his daily activities while at Flambeau Lake. His journal was later published in the Wisconsin Historical Collections, alongside other fur traders’ journals from the early 19th century. – Autograph Letter by François Victor Malhiot. May 9, 1826.
By 1804, Malhiot’s alliance with the Trout Lake band had been forged in the crucible of conflict. His journals recount a harrowing incident that cemented this bond—when a large war party from the Lac du Flambeau band, aligned with the rival X Y Company, descended on Malhiot’s fort in a fit of rage. It was early September, and the night erupted into chaos. Armed with “spears, knives, hatchets, etc.,” the attackers clashed with Malhiot throughout the night, even smashing through one of the fort’s gates.
Fearing for his life, Malhiot was ultimately rescued by his Trout Lake allies. L’Outarde—whose name translates to “Bustard” or wild goose—and his warriors rushed to the trader’s defense. According to Malhiot, “had it not been for the aid of L’Outarde… there would certainly have been blood-shed.” L’Outarde fought with such ferocity that Malhiot described him as “a madman,” sustaining a head injury in the melee. In the heat of the battle, he shouted to Malhiot, “Take courage, Father!… strike, kill!” as he held the attackers at bay.
Thanks to the Trout Lake band’s intervention, the siege ended without loss of life. Malhiot later recorded the injuries his allies sustained and praised L’Outarde—believed to be the band’s chief—for his unwavering bravery. In a moment when many might have fled, L’Outarde stood firm, and Malhiot never forgot it.
This was not the only time L’Outarde and the Trout Lake band protected him. On numerous occasions, the chief personally took it upon himself to secure Malhiot’s safety. In one such instance, Malhiot wrote, “[We] would have been killed had it not been for L’Outarde, who remained armed and walked to and fro in front of the tent door” during a tense standoff.
These episodes highlight the deep trust and reliance that had formed between Malhiot and the Trout Lake Ojibwe. Their loyalty and willingness to fight for him were more than gestures—they were lifelines in a volatile trade environment where survival hinged on Native alliances. Malhiot recognized the value of that loyalty and leaned on it heavily as both protection and strategic capital.
Beyond their military support, the Trout Lake Ojibwe played a critical economic role in Malhiot’s operations. Their village sat at the terminus of the Flambeau Trail, a vital interior trade route stretching from Madeline Island into the heart of Wisconsin’s inland lakes. This strategic location made them key players in the regional fur trade—and providers of essential provisions.
The Trout Lake band skillfully leveraged local resources that were scarce elsewhere. The lake teemed with trout, walleye, and other fish, while the riverbanks yielded abundant wild rice. Malhiot’s journals reveal that he relied heavily on the Trout Lake Ojibwe not only for furs but also for sustenance. He frequently bartered for wild rice to feed his voyageurs, noting one instance where he “sent three of [his] men to [Lac] de la Truite [Trout Lake] to get rice,” exchanging liquor and tobacco for several sacks of this crucial staple.
In another entry, Malhiot recorded sending a large keg of rum with Chief L’Outarde, “to be distributed in his village in exchange for rice.” This cooperative exchange sometimes extended to garden produce—corn or potatoes grown during the summer—offered to support Malhiot’s fort through the seasons. But while these provisions helped sustain the post, they came at a cost to the Trout Lake band.
Malhiot and other traders used such dependencies strategically. By encouraging Native communities to rely on trade goods for basic needs, they created cycles of debt that bound those communities more tightly to their trading partners. In doing so, traders like Malhiot secured not only loyalty, but also economic leverage—undermining the Trout Lake band’s self-reliance while reinforcing their dependence on the North West Company.
“Gathering Wild Rice.” Painted by Seth Eastman, engraved by W.H. Capewell, c. 1850.
While Malhiot employed the common tactics of gift-giving and trade dependency to secure loyalty, he also worked to build a more personal and lasting alliance with the Trout Lake band—one rooted in mutual respect. His journals suggest a sincere admiration for the Trout Lake Ojibwe, particularly for their leader, L’Outarde. That admiration, however, was mixed with a note of caution—Malhiot seemed both impressed by and wary of the chief’s power and presence.
To honor L’Outarde, Malhiot bestowed gifts that were both symbolic and strategic. He presented the chief with a fine coat and an official North West Company flag—rarely given, and regarded as a true emblem of leadership. These were marks of esteem typically reserved for the most trusted allies. He also distributed rum and smaller gifts to L’Outarde’s lieutenants and neighboring leaders who had proven loyal.
The exchange wasn’t purely material. Malhiot gave a formal speech to mark the occasion, addressing L’Outarde as “Kinsman.” He urged the chief to remain steadfast with the French-Canadian traders and resist overtures from the rival X Y Company. “Be but one with us and look at the Fort of the X Y only from afar if thou wishest to obtain what thou desirest,” he declared—promising rewards in exchange for loyalty. He recognized L’Outarde as the “first chief of the place” and assured him that the “Great Trader” at Fort Kaministiquia would hear of his allegiance and send further honors. Malhiot even acknowledged past offenses—such as another trader who had selfishly consumed the chief’s share of rum—and vowed that “it will be different this year,” signaling his intent to preserve goodwill.
These diplomatic gestures proved effective. L’Outarde and the Trout Lake band remained loyal trading partners, consistently bringing furs to Malhiot’s post and helping maintain order in the region. When tensions flared again with the Lac du Flambeau band, Malhiot arranged a peace by offering them a keg of rum—an act L’Outarde reluctantly accepted. Though the Trout Lake chief had little interest in reconciliation, he deferred to Malhiot’s decision, revealing the trust he had placed in the trader’s judgment.
By winter, Malhiot’s trading post was secure, thanks in large part to the support of the Trout Lake Ojibwe. Trade continued steadily: his autumn inventory listed hundreds of deer hides, muskrats, beaver pelts, and other valuable furs—“sixteen packs” in total. Much of it was gathered with help from outlying bands like Trout Lake. Equally important was the flow of wild rice and provisions from Trout Lake camps, which sustained Malhiot’s men through the harsh season.
The alliance between Malhiot and L’Outarde’s community exemplifies a broader truth of the fur trade frontier: success depended as much on forging relationships as it did on commerce. Traders survived not only by trading goods—but by earning the loyalty of Indigenous partners who ultimately held the key to their survival.
Life on Trout Lake followed deep-rooted seasonal rhythms shaped by tradition and resourcefulness. Known as Ma-tak-e-ge-Ihik, or “the plentiful fishery,” the Trout Lake band lived in close relationship with the land, rotating between camps to take full advantage of its natural offerings. Their settlement on the lake’s southwest shores reflected more than strategic positioning—it represented a spiritual bond with a landscape considered sacred.
Leadership was key to preserving this connection over generations. The earliest documented leader, Sha-de-wish of Lac du Flambeau, established semi-permanent villages on Trout Lake and Turtle Portage in the early 18th century. These sites were chosen for their rich access to water routes, wild rice beds, and game. Under his guidance, the Ojibwe secured a lasting foothold on the lake despite rising tensions with rival tribes and expanding European influence.
His son, Keesh-ke-mun, later guided the community through intensified contact with traders and other Ojibwe groups. Though he relocated the main Lac du Flambeau band to Flambeau Lake, Trout Lake remained vital—especially for hunting and fishing. During his leadership, the Ojibwe consolidated power in the region, repelling Dakota and Fox incursions to protect key resources and alliances.
By the time Malhiot arrived in 1804, Trout Lake was led by L’Outarde. Some families had chosen to stay behind when the main band moved, forming a distinct Trout Lake community under his leadership. L’Outarde helped this emerging group adapt to the shifting world of the fur trade, securing their access to trade goods and reinforcing their regional influence. Through these successive chiefs, the Trout Lake band became a linchpin in the Ojibwe’s broader strategy for maintaining control over northern Wisconsin.
The Treaties Impacting Trout Lake
The Ojibwe’s battle to keep their land began in the early 19th century as the United States expanded into the Great Lakes region. After the Louisiana Purchase and the War of 1812, the U.S. sought to solidify its northern borders and extract the region’s rich resources. For the Ojibwe, whose territory spanned the upper Midwest and Canada, this expansion marked the beginning of a prolonged struggle to defend their homeland. Treaties were signed, but their terms were often disregarded or abused as settlers, logging companies, and mining operations moved in, disrupting traditional ways of life and threatening the Ojibwe’s sovereignty.
Logging, mining, and land speculators flooded the region, while the U.S. government frequently delayed or failed to deliver payments and supplies. The pressure intensified in 1842 with the Copper Treaty, which was driven by U.S. interest in exploiting the rich copper deposits of the Keweenaw Peninsula. During negotiations at Madeline Island, the U.S. government used deceptive tactics and exploited internal divisions among the Ojibwe to force another land cession. The treaty granted the Ojibwe continued rights to the lands, but a clause allowed the President of the United States to remove them at will, setting the stage for risk of displacement.
By the late 1840s, rumors spread that the U.S. government planned to forcibly relocate the Ojibwe west of the Mississippi River. This plan alarmed not only the Ojibwe but also settlers and state officials in Wisconsin, who come to rely on the Ojibwe as laborers and trading partners. Facing an existential threat, Ojibwe leaders mobilized a grassroots resistance, bypassing corrupt agents and fur traders to petition Congress and the President directly. Among them were leaders from Trout Lake, whose lands remained sacred, with fisheries, and fertile shores.
In 1849, a delegation of local Ojibwe chiefs made a historic journey to Washington, D.C., to appeal for their right to remain on their land. While other tribes had sent representatives to negotiate treaties, this was the first time an Indigenous delegation directly traveled to Washington to prevent removal. To avoid interference from government agents, the chiefs took a secretive route, traveling down the Mississippi River through the southern states before boarding trains to the capital. They carried with them written petitions, oral testimonies, and birchbark pictographs—traditional Ojibwe documents depicting their chiefs and connection to the land. One such pictograph represented Chief Kenisteno and the Trout Lake band, serving as a visual representation for their legitimacy and historical presence on Trout Lake.
When the Ojibwe delegation arrived in Washington, they captivated Congress and the press. Reporters described their traditional attire, painted faces, and quiet dignity.
They proposed 24 reservations across Wisconsin and Michigan, including a four-mile section along Trout Lake’s southwest shore. The visit made headlines, but the results were mixed. Congress granted them $6,000 for travel expenses, acknowledging their effort, yet President Taylor remained committed to removal. The delegation had bought time, but their fate remained uncertain.
The tide turned in 1850, when President Taylor’s sudden death led to the reversal of his removal position by President Millard Fillmore. While this granted the Ojibwe a temporary reprieve, pressure to cede more land persisted. The turning point came in 1854, when the Ojibwe gathered again at Madeline Island to negotiate a new treaty. By this time, the fur trade had declined, and logging and settlements had become the government’s primary focus. Realizing the need for a permanent land base, the Ojibwe secured the establishment of several reservations, including one at Lac du Flambeau. Despite relocation to Flambeau Lake, the Trout Lake band maintained their summer village at the mouth of Trout River for decades, ensuring some measure of stability in an uncertain future.
The story of the Ojibwe’s fight for Trout Lake is one of resilience, strategic diplomacy, and an unwavering commitment to their land. Through grassroots organizing and direct appeals to power, they resisted removal and secured legal recognition of some rights. While the treaties they fought for were far from ideal, they ensured that their presence, culture, and traditions endured. Historical records show that Ojibwe families still occupied their summer village on Trout Lake as late as 1898, suggesting they had negotiated informal agreements with settlers who valued their expertise and labor, even helping construct the present-day Rec Hall and Mess Hall at Red Arrow Camp. Their legacy remains woven into the landscape on Trout Lake and their history carried forward by their descendants.