My family’s road trip continues with an auto tour down U.S. Route 56 in Southwest Kansas.
Inspired By Nature
From rare encounters with wildlife to outdoor-focused road trips, Inspired By Nature has something for everyone.
Traveling the Southwest: Salina, Kansas
Driving to the Southwestern U.S., we stopped in Salina, Kansas for a night and were delighted to find the Central Kansas Flywheels Yesteryear Museum.
Pond Hockey: Yesterday and Today
Pond hockey. It was a way of life during the winter for my family when I was young. We lived on a pond that froze somewhere between November and December. I also had a brother that played hockey through high school, so naturally we had hockey sticks, pucks, and skates that my brother had grown out of laying around the house. My parents purchased the heavy, metal rink shovels, and my dad crafted regulation-size hockey nets using 2×4’s – we were set. Yesterday The scritch, scratch of skate blades on the ice, along with the long pshhhhh of the shovels pushing snow could be heard on most days throughout the winter as multiple people donned their skates while shoveling the rink. The street we lived on was home to quite a few kids that were close to the ages of my two brothers and me. All of the neighbors were boys – most were hockey players. My mom and I were the only girls , and we never played on official teams, but I have to say that we held our own quite nicely. Our hockey games would go on for hours. We’d play before school, on weekends, and any other time we could get a group together. I remember playing hockey on the pond when temperatures plummeted to -25F. It was so cold one day that one of the neighbor boys said, “Hey, watch this!” as he flicked the hockey puck about eight feet into the air. When the puck landed on the ice, it shattered into pieces that went sprawling across the rink. On those days, I went inside after playing in the frigid cold to find my fingers and toes white – partially frozen themselves. I didn’t care – all I wanted to do was play. My parents also held skating parties often. Neighbor families would congregate in our backyard, share snacks, drink hot cocoa, and chat by a hot, crackling fire, but the best was always the hockey games. Our winters were full of hockey, fun, and friends – wonderful memories. Today The kids and I invited my mom to come over yesterday to skate with us on the nearby lake. The lakes around us are unusually glassy due to the absent snow this year, and the roller coaster of temperatures we’ve been having. The daily highs almost hit 50F two weeks ago, so the ice was soft and very wet. Two days later, our temperatures plummeted to the single digits – this made for hard, smooth ice. As Mom walked in the door yesterday, she said “Guess what I brought today?” I knew it was something good as she had a big smile on her face. Sure enough, Mom brought the old stack of hockey sticks and pucks that we played with when I was growing up. I think the kids were almost as excited as we were to try them out. Mom put on her old Riedells, I helped the kids into their skates, and we all set out for a warm-up skate across the lake. When we returned, we grabbed the equipment, made two quick goals out of the two extra sticks we had, and played a heated 2 v. 2 game. While we played, warm memories kept flowing through my head of the old, frigid pond hockey days. I hope our new neighbors around join us for games soon. Did you grow up playing neighborhood games? I’d love for you to share your stories in the comments below. Thanks for reading!
New Year’s Eve Skating: A Little Magic on the Lake
New Year’s Eve, 2018 The kids and I went out early today to get chores done around the homestead because brutal winds were due to arrive this afternoon bringing in light snow and frigid temps. When we walked out of the house the wind was light, and the temperatures were hovering around 30 degrees Fahrenheit – nice winter weather. We cleaned the chicken coop, filled up food feeders, checked the water bucket, collected eggs, and cleaned up dog (well, you know). As we completed our chores in record time, the dogs roughhoused around the yard – running, jumping, tackling each other, and doing it all over again. I looked at the kids and said, “We should probably bring the dogs on a walk, because once the cold air moves in, we won’t be able to bring them out.” Our indoor dogs’ feet can’t handle sub-zero temperatures, and tomorrow night our temperature will dip to -10 degrees. After minutes of walking, they would start picking up one foot, and then the other – trying to lick away the sting of the cold on their foot pads. “Mom, can we go ice skating on the lake while the dogs run?” my daughter pleaded. “Can we?” my son added. “You two can go skating, and Dad and I will walk with the dogs by the cattails and look for lures and bobbers.” So, that settled it. The whole family (dogs included) piled into the car and drove down the street to the lake. Just as we stepped onto the lake, the wind picked up. The boys headed off on their walk with the dogs, and my daughter and I slipped into our hockey skates and began skating down the lake. The first thing that we noticed was that the ice was no longer black. Forty eight hours of snow and rain had made the ice opaque, so we could no longer see into the inky depths of the lake. The next thing we noticed was how strong the wind had become. Light snow started streaming across the glossy ice, and the wind started to push us across the lake. “Mom, the wind wants us to go somewhere, and we need to listen to it!” my daughter yelled in front of me. I saw her gliding down the ice, arms spread wide, not having to exert any effort to move. “Come on, Mom, skate faster, we need to follow the wind.” she continued. We both took off skating as fast as we could. With the wind pushing angrily at our back, we skated across the lake at what I’m sure was our record speed. My daughter and I started laughing with the thrill of it all. “It’s magical – it’s all magical” she yelled amidst our laughter. It felt that way. What a way to usher out the old year and bring in the new year. For those of you that are wondering about our return skate back up the lake, yes, it was brutal. But, my daughter gave me an imaginary magic disc that gave us the power to withstand the worst winter weather – polar bear power. So, our skate against the wind wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I love the magic that children bring to our lives. I hope that 2019 brings you peace, love, joy, and happiness, I hope that you get a chance to slow down and enjoy the simple things, I hope that you get outside and get into nature every chance you get, and I hope that you get to experience a little bit of your own magic here and there. Happy New Year to you, and thank YOU so very much for taking the time to sit and read this little story! I hope it brought a smile to your face. Warmly, Erin
Black Ice – Beauty, Surprises, and Adventure
Black ice – no, not the type that forms on the roads from car exhaust on frigid winter days. It’s the kind that forms on lakes with very few impurities. So few that the ice is clear and appears black because the water below absorbs almost all of the light. Black ice is a treat to walk on and explore. Even though I dread the onset of our long winters here in the Upper Midwest (read my mournful post and poem here), there are things my family and I look forward to every year. We enjoy sledding, cross-country skiing (read about one of our favorite trips here), snowboarding, playing board games on cold winter nights, and taking our daily walks on a frozen lake down the road. One week ago, our family cautiously stepped out on that very lake as we had seen other footprints appear on the lightly snow-covered ice the week before. We walked out about ten feet, brushed off what little snow had blown down the lake, and peered into the ice. We were thrilled to see that the ice was clear. We could see little air bubbles trapped in the ice more than 8″ down – it was safe to walk on. My husband and I gave the kids the okay to run and play, and we had the dogs sit so we could let them off their leashes. The dogs’ tails revealed their excitement as they sat waiting to hear the click of the leash that would tell them that they were free to run too. In an instant, two black fluff balls took off after the kids – running, bounding, and knocking into one another as they played along the way. Not more than a minute later, Brook, our almost 13-year old pup, came to a screeching halt. Ayla, our 1-year old, was too late. I had to laugh when I saw her hit a glossy, black sheet of ice. She tried to dig her nails in, but that didn’t work. She tried to brace herself by getting low, but that didn’t work. She also tried to run off of the evil slick stuff, but she lost her footing. Ayla went for a sprawling slip ‘n slide across the inky, smooth lake ice. Once Ayla found the reprieve of snow again, she stood up, looked at what had taken her for a ride, and proceeded to run after the kids again – this time avoiding each and every black ice spot on the lake. The kids spent the next half hour slipping and sliding on the ice while the dogs played and tracked animal scents they found throughout the cattails. After the kids had depleted their energy, the whole family began doing what we love most – exploring. My family and I went from black ice to black ice to see what we could see. The ice held many beautiful treasures, and wonderful surprises. Intricate fern-like patterns graced the surface of the ice. Bubbles of all sizes sat suspended in the ice giving the ice depth and character. Large cracks had powerfully ripped across the lake, and we could see all the beautiful ripples, fissures, and lines in these breaks that spanned the full depth of the ice. I wish my camera had been able to adequately capture all that our eyes had seen. Aside from the beauty that the ice held in itself, it revealed other surprises too, such as fish, snail shells, and weeds that expelled their oxygen in thousands of little bubbles. My daughter also found a little honey bee curled up on the snow as we walked. She told me that she found the warmest spot to lay it on – a black rock. Several holes in the ice that were tucked into the cattails were found by my son. We can only imagine that the local muskrats are keeping exit and entrance holes into the water open. They must stay busy! My family has spent hours on the lake each day for the past week. We walk, talk, explore, throw tennis balls for the dogs, slide on the ice, take pictures, and take in as much fresh, cold air as we can. As much as I dread our long winter spell before the cold hits, I love our cold-weather adventures once winter does finally set in. What are your favorite winter activities? If you don’t have cold winters where you are, what would you like to experience most if you could visit our cold winter wonderland?
Finding Joy in Unexpected Encounters
We had a final electrical inspection for our basement that we have been working on for the past year – almost done! But, the basement is a story for another day as this post is about finding joy in unexpected encounters. Encounters where complete strangers take time out of their day to teach, spread joy, or get to know someone new. The Electrical Inspector About a month ago we received a call from our county’s electrical inspector notifying us of his impending retirement at the end of the month. He wanted to complete the final inspection on our basement if at all possible. Within the week, the inspector was at our door for the third and final time. He walked downstairs and inspected the new bathroom, office, gas fireplace, and family room before asking to see the electrical box in the back room. As my husband opened the door to the back room, he bent down to pick up a container of rocks my kids had left in the walkway. The inspector’s eyes lit up. “Do you have a rock hound in the family?” he asked. “My kids love collecting rocks, particularly agates.” my husband replied. “Our family has been collecting agates for many years now. The kids collect ‘special’ rocks wherever they go.” The inspector excitedly told us that he and his wife are planning to spend their retirement traveling and collecting rocks. The inspector and our family spent nearly half an hour talking about rocks. My kids ran to get their largest agates to show the inspector, while the inspector brought out his cell phone to show us a large, 25 lb. rock that he retrieved out of a mine in Arkansas. The rock had one small crystal sticking out of the top. When the inspector gently removed the outer shell of the rock, he found that the entire core was made of crystals. Before leaving, the inspector invited us to attend meetings at the Minnesota Mineral Club. He said that they could use some young families in the club. As he stepped out the door he said: “Well, this has been fun! Keep up the rock hunting – it really is a great lifetime hobby. Plus, you get to learn about history, geology, mineralogy, paleontology, and lapidary arts while spending time in the great outdoors.” We agree! Mr. Mosquito Controller “Excuse me! Hi! Excuse me!” The kids and I turned around as we heard a man calling from behind us. We were on one of our daily walks last summer and heading back up the dirt road toward our house when we heard the shouts. We all walked back to where the man was standing by his pick-up truck. My son immediately noticed that the truck was from Illinois. “Hey, Mom! He’s from Illinois!” my son exclaimed. He loves to see license plates from other states. Anyway, the man (I’ll call Mr. Mosquito Controller) said “I hope I didn’t startle you. I saw you with the kids and I thought you all may be interested in seeing this. The man held out a few tiny clear glass containers. The containers had mosquitoes in different stages of their life cycle – egg, larva, pupa, and adult. Mr. Mosquito Controller was conducting research for mosquito control near our house. He was taking water samples from puddles, marshes, and other low lying areas to gauge where our county should treat for mosquitoes. When we asked what control they use, he said that they use Bti (Bacillus thuringiensis var. israelensis (Bti) – a natural soil bacteria that disrupts mosquito digestion. The bacteria are packaged in little pellets that are dropped by hand in small areas, or by helicopter in larger areas. We’ve seen the helicopters fly over our house for years now, so it was interesting to learn exactly what the helicopters were dropping. Mr. Mosquito Controller also said that we can control mosquito reproduction by putting one salt pellet (used in water softeners) in puddles around our home – so simple! The kids and I were impressed that Mr. Mosquito Controller flagged us down, and took the time to teach us all about the tiny pests that swarm and bite us throughout the summer. We felt lucky to have crossed paths with Mr. Mosquito Controller. The Hawaiian My family took a long road trip down south to get away from our brutal Minnesota winter two years ago. We took our time to stop and explore interesting places on our way down to the Gulf of Mexico and back. One of the places we stopped was Crater of Diamonds State Park – the only diamond mining park that is open to the public. We set out for our first day of digging for diamonds after sliding into our rain boots, renting our digging supplies, and paying for the entrance into the mining fields. The day was a little rainy, so there weren’t too many people on the plowed fields, but we did come a across a very friendly man from Hawaii and his much quieter friend from Nevada. The Hawaiian said that he flies in once per year to dig for diamonds with his friend. They dig for eight hours per day over a long weekend before flying back to Las Vegas. We ended up digging with our new friends in the slippery mud as we chatted about past trips to Crater of Diamonds, life in Hawaii, life in Minnesota, and about the history of the area we were in. I could tell that the Hawaiian had talked to many of the locals over the years, as he had many stories to share (making our trip to Crater of Diamonds all the richer). My son, who was 7-years old at the time, also joined the conversation by telling the Hawaiian that one of his favorite singers was from Hawaii. My son had been listening to the beautiful ukulele rendition of the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Iz (Israel Kamakawiwoʻole)
Can Contrails Predict Fishing Success?
My family likes walks. We walk almost every day – sometimes multiple times per day. The fresh air, exercise, time we get to spend chatting with each other, and the exciting things we see make every walk enjoyable and interesting. It’s our go-to way to get outside and get into nature. Two days ago, I wanted to walk in a nearby prairie at sunset because the light across the fall landscape is especially beautiful this time of year. Dried flowers dot the fields, dainty grass plumes sparkle in front of the lowering rays, and the family seems to feel the magic just as I do. But, this is not what this post is about. This post is about contrails and fishing. At the very western edge of the prairie one can find a clear lake with a sandy bottom. The kids love to explore the shores of the lake when we visit the prairie and we did just that two days ago. While the kids ran up and down the shore, made clouds out of cattail fluff, and searched for lures that others had unfortunately lost while fishing, my husband offered an interesting bit of information: “Too bad we are not fishing right now.” he said (this after he and my son had been shut out three days in a row – well, except for a few mudpuppies). “Why is that?” I questioned (thinking there may be more to this statement than the obvious fact that he’d like to fish all day – every day if he could). “You see those vapor trails [contrails] that the airplanes are leaving in the sky, and how they are slowly spreading out?” he asked. “Yes?” I questioned. “They indicate good fishing.” “How is that?” I asked, “And, where did you learn that?” “I must have read about in one of my fishing books, but I don’t remember where or which one.” he replied. To be fair, my husband has read a plethora of fishing books – books about fishing technique, fishing memoirs, fiction books about fishing, and he even studies lake and river maps. He continued: “It has something to do with pressure changes.” Today I explored this theory further using my favorite learning tool – the World Wide Web. This is what I found: A contrail is: a condensation trail left behind jet aircrafts where hot humid air from jet exhaust mixes with environmental air of low vapor pressure and low temperature. The result is a cloud similar to those that you see when you exhale and see your breath outside. Okay, so how does this affect fishing? I found a simple explanation in a bass fishing forum on BassResource.com. BassChaser57, a self-proclaimed “airline pilot by profession, BassChaser by passion,” stated: There are lots of variables i[n] bass fishing such as temperature, cloud cover, barometric pressure, wind speed and direction, moon phase, fishing pressure, rising/falling water, muddy water, etc. There is one variable that I have used over the years… it is simple and it works. Few of us can spend as much time on the water as we would like so I try to maximize my quality fishing possibilities. I do this by watching jet contrails (the white trails left in the sky by jets.) When I see the sky crisscrossed by contrails I go fishing and expect to find active bass. The explanation is simply that there is high level moisture meaning there is an approaching weather system. Many of us realize bass get active with an approaching storm or lowering barometric pressure, the contrails will tell us the same thing without having to be able to see the weather channel. The next time you see the contrails in the sky, try to go fishing and expect the Bass to be active and prove to yourself that contrails=active bass. Dan Johnson from In-Fisherman magazine defines barometric pressure more thoroughly… In a nutshell, barometric pressure—also called atmospheric or air pressure—is the weight of the air pressing down upon everything on the planet, including fish and anglers. Lest you think such a load is light as a feather, consider that a square-inch column of air rising from sea level to the top of our atmosphere weighs about 14.7 pounds. Even slight changes in barometric pressure can cause big changes in fish behavior. According to Spud Woodward, Assistant Director for the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Coastal Resources Division, fish sense pressure changes through their air bladder. He goes on to explain: Fish that have small air bladders, such as kings, Spanish mackerel, wahoo and dolphin, aren’t as affected by barometric changes as those with large bladders, such as trout, redfish, tarpon, grouper and snapper… That’s because fish with small bladders have a body density that’s closer to that of the surrounding water. They don’t sense the pressure changes as dramatically, so their comfort levels aren’t drastically altered. However, many things they eat have air bladders, and that alone could have a big impact on where you might find them and how they’ll behave. For example, zooplankton and phytoplankton have air bladders and can be caught off-guard by pressure changes causing a feeding frenzy among minnows and other small fish, which in turn brings out larger fish to eat. Woodward continues: Fish with large bladders quickly sense when the air pressure is dropping, because there’s less pressure on their bladder. And when there’s less pressure squeezing their bladders, the bladders expand a bit. When their bladders expand, fish become uncomfortable. They relieve their discomfort by moving lower in the water column or by absorbing extra gas in their bladders. These stresses cause fish to forget about eating, and instead focus on finding a depth where they can find comfort. Finally, Woodward explains the pressure changes where contrails are most evident – the period just before a low-pressure system sets in. Just what I was looking for. Let’s say we’re experiencing a prolonged period of high pressure and the fishing has been good.
Just Me and My Dogs: A Solitary Hike on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail
Just me and my dogs, alone, on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail. I’ve hiked portions of this trail many times in my life, but never alone with my dogs, and never this particular segment. Early in the afternoon on Saturday, August 18th, I drove the short 2.5 miles up the gravel road from the location my family was vacationing at, to the Castle Danger Trailhead. I noticed a few cars in the small trail-side parking lot, but saw no one. I leashed the dogs, threw my backpack over my shoulders, and headed over to the trail sign: Crow Creek .5mi Red Pine Overlook 1.5mi Encampment River 2.6mi Sure! Why not? I felt a sort of elation as the dogs and I stepped onto the trail – alone. In my day-to-day life I’m a stay-at-home mother of 7 and 9-yr. old children, which I love, but it’s been years since I’ve walked alone; at my own pace; in silence. Nature, here I come! The dogs started off the hike with an excited burst of energy. They seemed to know that a wilderness hike was waiting for them. Brook, my 12-yr. old border collie-lab mix, and Ayla, my border collie-Australian cattle dog mix, were pulling at the leashes with their noses buried in the long grass. I noticed a silence, devoid of others’ voices. But shortly thereafter, new sounds of rustling grasses, branches hitting each other as the wind swept through the high tree tops, and the poignant call of a bird evaded my ears. I was zoning in on the wilderness around me. Within minutes we came across a sign: As I gazed past the sign, I noticed a sharp drop in terrain. We must have made it to Crow Creek. I let Brook off of her leash for the steep descent down as I didn’t want her restrained while she climbed down the stairs – her old hips need special attention. But, the dogs barreled down the wall of Crow Creek anyway, while I tried to avoid the poison ivy that was invading the trail at every step. “If you stay to the left, it’s easier to step down to the creek bed” came a female voice from below. “Thank you!” I replied. A slim lady with short grey hair and a hard hat greeted me as the dogs and I stepped into the mostly-dry Crow Creek. Brook, off her leash, gingerly made her way over to the lady to say hi. Everyone is Brook’s best friend. Luckily, the lady was a dog lover, and squatted down to give Brook a thorough pet. “What’s going on down here?” I asked. “Well, last month we had 8” of rain here, and several footbridges were washed down stream, so we’re here to disassemble them and fix the steps on the sides of the creek. As I looked up the creek, I was surprised to see workers hauling a huge boulder using a four-handled sling – one man per handle. They were gathering the boulders and placing them on the sides of the creek to be used as stairs. There was no way to get heavy machinery into the creek, so everything has to be done using human power. A few of the workers waved, and one said “You’re the first one to use our new steps!” “I’m honored, and thanks so much for the work you’re doing here!” I replied. The dogs and I said our goodbyes, tested out the new steps on the far side of the creek – “They’re sturdy!” I yelled down to the crew below – and continued on our way. Up, up, and up, we climbed. “This is going to be some overlook.” I thought to myself. The dogs and I hiked up steep hills, we climbed up small, but challenging rock obstacles, and cherished the brief flat terrain. The billion-year old basalt cliffs surrounding Lake Superior were proving to be formidable hiking opponents. Now I was hearing the dogs panting, my deep breathing, my new barefoot trail shoes crunching on gravel trails, and I think I could hear my heart beating. The challenging hike was invigorating. The same bird with the high, sharp call continued to follow us on our hike for about a half a mile. I never did see the shy, but curious bird as it kept itself well-hidden in the canopy of the trees. Soon after the mystery bird left, we arrived at the breathtaking Red Pine Overlook. Small, but perfectly manicured farms dotted the vast valley below, we could see tree tops for miles, and the distant landscape was tinged a milky bluish-white due to the Canadian wildfires that burned hundreds of miles away. Brook, panting like crazy, chose to lie down on a rocky outcrop to enjoy the breeze coming up from the valley. Just as we were all sitting down to catch our breath on the overlook, the dogs and I heard something crashing through the woods behind us. I immediately thought black bear, or maybe a moose. Whatever it is, it’s big, and it’s CLOSE! Ayla, my ferocious 35lb. 1-yr. old dog jumped straight up, and turned a 180 in the air. Her buck was up as she barked wildly at the crashing sound. Just then, we saw an old red pine trunk crash through the trees right over the trail we had just walked, though it didn’t touch the ground as a young red pine exerted its strength and held that old trunk about 8 ft. off the ground. Settle down, heart! Since we were all up and alert, we decided to continue our hike to our final destination – the Encampment River. The next mile-long stretch of our hike would end up being my favorite. Towering red pines lined the high bluff we explored, thick layers of pine needles cushioned our steps, and a beautiful overlook accompanied us along the way. Have you noticed the sweet smell of browned pined needles? It is one of my
When Bird Feathers Rain Down on Me
When bird feathers rain down on me I get excited. Not because the bird feathers are falling on me, but because this is something that never happens. “What in the world is going on?” I wonder. “What am I going to see?”
Rio Grande Valley: From MN to Texas and Back Again
On The Road Again During the arctic winter of 2014, my family decided to pack up and head south. A few weeks ago I shared the first part of our road trip when we explored Port Aransas, Texas. Today we continue our road trip from Minnesota to Texas as we drive south from Port Aransas, TX to the Rio Grande Valley via U.S. Highway 77. Onion fields and chicken farms dotted the sides of highway 77 as we drove south toward the valley. The shadeless and parched terrain offered no respite from the sun as the cattle slowly roamed the open fields. At one point, we passed a group of about 20 men, women, and children on horseback. I wondered where they were headed as we hadn’t seen a town for dozens of miles, and we wouldn’t pass another for about the same. I hoped that they had water for the horses and young children that traveled under the mid-day sun. Within three hours, my family and I reached our new destination – Orange Grove RV Park in Edinburg, TX. Orange Grove RV Park – Edinburg, TX That’s right! We were joining the Snowbirds for the next five days (Snowbirds: North American term for people who migrate from cooler northern climates to warmer southern climates during the winter). I had visited the park a couple of times in years past, as my grandparents overwintered in Orange Grove. The things I remembered most about the park were: the way the orange blossoms perfumed the air throughout the late winter months (the park was built on an old orange grove), how grapefruit hung heavy on the trees, how we played games late into the night, and enjoyed conversations with neighbors that regularly stopped. Nothing much had changed in the park since I had been there last. The orange blossoms still perfumed the air, grapefruit the size of my three-year old daughter’s head still hung heavy on the trees, and neighbors still stopped by to visit. My family also enjoyed the park pool and hot tub, and celebrating Great-Grandpa’s 80th birthday with friends and family in the community room. Orange Grove Park was the perfect place for our young family to relax and enjoy the warm Texas weather – fresh citrus fruit to pick and enjoy, a clean pool to play in, friendly people to chat with, quiet streets to walk in, and plenty of space for games, parties, and other social gatherings. Much of the second portion of our trip was spent in the park, but we did take one day-trip to the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge – a 2,088-acre refuge. Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge Established in 1943 for the protection of migratory birds, Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge happens to be positioned along an east-west and north-south juncture of two major migratory routes for many species of birds. It is also at the northern-most point for many species whose range extends south into Central and South America. The refuge is right in the middle of all this biological diversity, which is what makes this 2,088 acre parcel the ‘jewel of the National Wildlife Refuge System.’ Though small in size, Santa Ana offers visitors an opportunity to see birds, butterflies and many other species not found anywhere else in the United States beyond deep South Texas. – U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Throughout the winter of 2014, one of the coldest on record, my parents escaped the icy MN winter to volunteer at the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. My father helped to rebuild bridges in the park while my mother traveled to local schools to educate students about monarch butterflies. On the day that we visited Santa Ana, my father was busy building a bridge, but my mother got the day off to show us around the refuge. We had our own tour guide! The first thing that my family noticed was all of the Spanish moss dripping from every tree and vine. The soft, gray moss gave every walking trail a storybook feeling. My son was amazed that the moss didn’t need to grow in the dirt. He was also delighted with the sabal palm trees. My family spent the day in the reserve observing green jays and listening to the loud cackle of the plain chachalaca, exploring the canopy bridge, and discovering new flowers on trees and shrubs. Many of the mammals, birds, and reptiles that would usually be out and active were not due to the unusually cold temperatures that Texas experienced in the winter of 2014 – Minnesota wasn’t the only state. I would love to return to the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge in the future when temperatures are warmer and wildlife is more active, but the day at the refuge was still full of exploration, new experiences, and exciting flora and fauna. Thank you, Mom, for a great day! Thanks for joining me on the second part of our journey from Minnesota to Texas and back again. This week I will share my favorite tip for long road trips with kids and dogs – you may be surprised.