Late fall and early winter, before the ground freezes over, is the time to harvest Wínawizi Čík’ala (Glycyrrhiza lepidota, or wild licorice).
First, to explain the plant’s Lakota name, Wínawizi Čík’ala, a little: I’ve heard the name translated as “Little Jealous Girl” or “Little Jealous Woman.” I haven’t been able to verify if this is a correct understanding of the name’s origin, but I can break it down a bit. Wi – from wíŋ or wíŋyaŋ (woman, although it could also derive from a different “wi”); nawízi – jealous; čík’ala – small/little. I’m pretty sure that the name comes from the seed pods, which will cling to a person’s (or animal’s) hair or clothing if you brush past them, perhaps similarly to how a jealous person might cling to their significant other. (There are other plants whose seeds have a similar clinging action, like cockleburs, that also have “Wínawazi” in their names.) Fun fact: I’ve heard that the inventor of Velcro was inspired by the wínawizi čík’ala’s clinging seed pods. You can see those seed pods here:
Medicinally, the root of wínawizi čík’ala is incredibly versatile. It is a demulcent medicine, meaning that it brings moisture to the body, especially to the mucus membranes. It can treat sore throats, coughs, digestive issues, and much more. It’s one of my go-to medicinal teas to soothe a dry sore throat, or overtaxed lungs when someone is coughing too much. Some of my Lakota relatives frequently work with it successfully to treat their seasonal allergies. It also has strong antiviral properties, and can be taken preventatively.
Since it is a fairly hard and woody root medicine, people often decoct it (bring it to a boil, and simmer ~15 minutes) to extract the medicine from the root. It’s a lot more bitter than its Asian cousin, Glycyrrhiza glabra, but otherwise has a similar flavor.
he other option is to prepare a cold infusion: chop the root into smaller pieces, put it in a jar with cold water, and then place the jar in a refrigerator overnight (or, at minimum, 4 hours). You can also do this at room temperature if you don’t have access to a fridge, but there’s less risk of harmful bacteria growing if you refrigerate it.
One interesting thing about wínawizi čík’ala is that depending on how you prepare it, it can have a pretty different flavor. The different preparations bring out different medicinal qualities, and different flavors, in the tea. This can be a fun taste-testing exercise to do with students or kids. (Nettles are another great plant to try this with — but for the hot option, they require an infusion, rather than a decoction.) I’ve found that a cold infusion of wínawizi čík’ala has a much sweeter flavor than a hot decoction.
You can also tincture this plant, and many people do. While tinctures can be a convenient and accessible form of medicine, I personally prefer the flavor of the tea.
Now, to discuss harvesting.
First, where do you find it? These plants love water and need a good deal of water to survive, so this is not a medicine that you’ll find growing on the dry, high hills and bluffs of the prairies. It tends to grow in river bottoms, along streams, and in similar habitats. In some areas that are affected by drought, it can be scarce, so please exercise caution to avoid over-harvesting.
This time of year, many plants have lost their leaves, but the knee-high plants are most recognizable by their clusters of flat, rust-covered seed pods. This picture, taken in early November, also shows the leaves:
Of course, if you’re looking for this plant in the spring/early summer, there won’t be any seed pods. You may see leaves, and also some delicate white flowers.
The stems also take on a reddish hue in the fall, as you can see in these pictures, which may also aid in identification. (Be careful to avoid cockleburs, a different plant that that grows in similar habitats, but has much bigger, rounder seed pods, bigger leaves, and grows a bit higher.) These pictures should give you an idea of the size of the seed pods, and also what the leaves look like when they’re dried up:
Although it has hardy seeds that allow its descendants to grow well after a human/animal unwittingly moves them to a new location, this plant also frequently propagates itself rhizomatically. (A rhizome is a kind of root that has the ability to send up new shoots/stems at various intervals as it grows.) As the wínawizi čík’ala root grows horizontally under the soil over time, it will send up new stalks. In this picture, you can clearly trace where the root has grown under the soil:
Fall is the best time to harvest root wínawizi čík’ala, and many other root medicines. In the fall, the plant is no longer putting its energy into producing leaves, flowers, or seeds. The medicine of the plant will have gone down into the root — therefore, it is the strongest at this time.
Taking a plant’s root is a big sacrifice for to ask of a plant. Harvesting a root often results in the plant’s death, even if we only take part of the root. For many roots medicines, I recommend that we look for other plant medicines to use instead — if there’s a leaf or flower that we can take with similar medicinal qualities, we can avoid unnecessarily killing a plant.
Because of this, we often must exercise extreme caution when harvesting a root medicine. The population of wild Echinacea species on the prairies is a good example of this: it has suffered greatly as a result of over-harvesting, and the current population is only a fraction of what it once was.
But wínawizi čík’ala is different in this way — it actually thrives when the soil is disturbed, and some of its roots are removed. (There are limits, of course. We still need to be careful to not over-harvest. But mild to moderate harvesting can actually help the plant to thrive.)
Where my cousin lives in Colorado, in the southern reaches of Očhéthi Šakówiŋ territory, there is a stream with abundant wild licorice growing. So, after watching the populations there for a few years, I decided to harvest a few.
Harvesting wínawizi čík’ala is pretty simple, as long as you’re not dealing with really hard soil: identify a plant, then (after making an offering) start digging. Roots are only a few inches below the soil, and once you have found one, you can often follow it to dig up a good-sized chunk. Here’s the beginning of my digging process:
After you finish harvesting, please makes sure that you fill in your holes! Not only is this our responsibility as ethical harvesters who take care of the land that gives us medicine and food, but it’s essential to help the plant re-grow. Also, stumbling across unexpected holes that are covered by grass and leaves can cause broken ankles for many species, including humans.
When I bring my harvest home, I usually give it a very quick wash to get the dirt off. It’s important to do this quickly. As I mentioned above, this plant will start infuse its medicinal qualities into even cold water. Since we don’t want to waste or lose the medicine, this is definitely not one that you want to leave soaking in the water. Just a quick rinse, then set it somewhere clean to dry.
If you live somewhere that wild licorice does not grow abundantly, if you’re in need of this medicine and it’s not the right season to harvest (or if the ground is already frozen where you live!), there’s a good alternative. If you live in an area that has a good Asian market, the Eurasian species of licorice (Glycyrrhiza glabra) is also a great choice for medicine. It is widely available, and usually quite affordable, and can also be purchased online. The medicinal qualities of Glycyrrhiza glabra have been much more widely studied than its North American cousin, and it is commonly used throughout its native range as a medicine. Many people cultivate it in North America, too, and I am always shocked to encounter [non-Indigenous] American herbalists who have no idea that there is an indigenous licorice species that grows all across North America.
I work with the Eurasian species when I am unable to access the North American one, and/or when I need more of this plant than I can ethically harvest from the areas I have access to. Since this is such a great, effective medicine in fighting COVID, and one that I frequently share with people, I often buy a package or two at H Mart when I pass through Denver.
While I haven’t come across any studies indicating whether this is true for the North American species, it is widely known that the Eurasian species (Glycyrrhiza glabra) has estrogenic affects. In other words, it can increase the production of estrogen in your body. It has not been shown to do this in a really dramatic way, and is safe to take regularly, regardless of a person’s sex/gender. However, for people who are paying close attention to their hormonal balance for medical reasons, it’s good to be aware of this. I am not aware of any studies of whether there are estrogenic affects of Glycyrrhiza lepidota (wínawizi čík’ala).
One other note on harvesting: since this plant can be propagated by rhizome, you can also take one of the roots that you harvest home, and plant it in your own garden! It can live in a pot when it’s first getting started, but needs to go in the ground in order to thrive over multiple years. Just make sure you give it plenty of water, or plant it near a water source.
Plant Stories 