The birth of Minnesota’s North Shore was a dramatic fire and ice event – the end resulted in the world’s best playground. Stephanie Pearson, from Outside Online, discusses the Lake Superior area and writes: “All together it’s a giant, world-class playground for hiking, trail running, mountain biking, kayaking, sailing, backcountry camping, and open-water swimming (for anyone crazy enough to try).” I would like to add agate-hunting, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, bird-watching, nature-photography, mountain climbing, canoeing, berry picking, and fly-fishing to the list. Eight state parks line the North Shore of Lake Superior in MN, ready for explorers. Each park has unique and magnificent natural wonders that really need to be experienced in order to fully appreciate them. Because of the dramatic geological history of the Lake Superior area, much of the North Shore is wild, rugged, and left untouched. Cascading waterfalls awash viewers in a light mist, deep gorges give the faint of heart butterflies in the stomach as I cling to a tree while others go to peer over the edge (wait, did I write “I”?), layers of pine needles on the trails feel soft underfoot and give off a sweet strawberry aroma, wild blueberries, raspberries, and thimble berries await the hungry hiker in late summer, and bright colors of lichen adorn the ancient basalt bedrock that lines the lake. You may even catch a moose swimming in a backcountry wetland, bald eagles soaring over the cliffs, deer nibbling on spring growth, and trout darting under the overhangs in the many creeks and rivers that bubble and tumble into Lake Superior. If you are one of those people who is crazy enough to slip into the icy waters of Lake Superior, you are in for an adventure. Taking The Plunge When you step into the frigid waters of Lake Superior, it takes mere seconds before your feet start to ache from the arctic water, and only a minute or so before your skin goes numb, thank goodness. Although, at the numbing point you have to exercise caution, as the feet tend to stumble around as they try to navigate the slippery rocks underfoot. My family has had a yearly tradition of submersing ourselves in the icy waters. I swear, we are not crazy (okay, at least not all of us). This tradition is more of an “Okay, Lake. Give us all you’ve got. We can handle it!” kind of thing. We often have one or two people that slip due to numb feet – sending them splashing, ill-prepared into Lake Superior’s ice-bath. For some reason, those who are standing can’t help but laugh, but at the same time are thanking the Lord above that it wasn’t them – this time. We usually have curious on-lookers, who are most certainly happy they are still dry and warm where they watch, but can’t wait to see the reactions of the swimmers as they dive it. What does it feel like to dive in? Walking out to the point where we submerge ourselves usually takes us at least five minutes. I don’t know why we take so long. It’s not like we ever really get used to the water. Our minds are probably stopping us. We don’t swim on days when the waves are large. No thank you! Here in MN, most of us don’t know how to handle those ocean-size waves – especially those that are near freezing temperature. The guys usually take a little longer to get used to the water (ahem), but usually stay out longer than the women. There is usually a 10-second count down to submersion. On zero, we dunk under. Our breath gets caught as the cold envelopes the our entire body. In seconds we explode out of the cold water. A few of the crazy ones stay to swim (I told you not all of us were crazy) for a few minutes – relishing in the cold, weightless, free-feeling of swimming. Everyone who emerges from the lake (we haven’t lost anyone yet) steps out with a smile on their face. If for only a minute or two, we bested the giant, frigid, vast lake. After stepping back onto the shore, we like to warm ourselves on the rocks. This always (yes, always) leads to agate hunting as we relish in the warmth of the rock. Hunting The Not-So-Elusive Lake Superior Agate Agates can be found in almost every country around the world, but the regions around Lake Superior are the only areas in the world containing the Lake Superior agate. According the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR): The Lake Superior agate differs from other agates found around the world in its rich red, orange, and yellow coloring. This color scheme is caused by the oxidation of iron. Iron leached from rocks provided the pigment that gives the gemstone its beautiful array of color. The concentration of iron and the amount of oxidation determine the color within or between an agate’s bands. These agates can be found in much of Minnesota and into Northwest Wisconsin, as glacial movement spread agates with constant friction and movement throughout the ice age. What I believe is so special is that anyone can find agates in Minnesota. Agates are everywhere. Every time we go to the North Shore, my family brings home dozens of Lake Superior agates. Most of them are the size of dimes or quarters, and if we’re lucky, we may go home with silver-dollar sized rocks, but these are much more rare. All you need is to know what to look for when searching for the not-so-elusive agate. The DNR goes on to provide a list of what to look for when searching for one of Minnesota’s state gemstones: Iron-oxide staining in shades of rust-red and yellow is found on most Lake Superior agates. Translucence allows light to penetrate the stone. Sunny days, especially early morning and late evening, are best for observing translucence as the sun rays shine through the stone. A glossy or waxy
Get Outside
Lake Superior: A Watery Graveyard
Lake Superior attracts thousands of visitors from around the world each year. What many don’t see is how quickly the lake can transform from a sleeping kitten with glassy waters to a raging tiger with 30-foot waves when a storm blows in. A nightmare for those working the Superior waters. Hundreds of shipwrecks lay on the cold, dark, rocky bottom of Lake Superior. A haven for scuba divers, these shipwrecks lay preserved in the icy depths of the lake. The Lake Superior Visitor states: All over the Great Lakes, wooden schooners were colliding, breaking away and sinking. Others were destroyed by fire. Actually, it wasn’t usually the dark, stormy nights, but the inexperienced crews that caused most of the shipping accidents in the late 1800s. However, Lake Superior shipwrecks continued well into the late 1900s. The Edmund Fitzgerald Perhaps the most well-known wreck on Lake Superior is that of the Edmund Fitzgerald – thanks to the popular 1976 folk song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot. Sean Ley, Development Officer, at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum writes: The final voyage of the Edmund Fitzgerald began November 9, 1975 at the Burlington Northern Railroad Dock No.1, Superior, Wisconsin. Captain Ernest M. McSorley had loaded her with 26,116 long tons of taconite pellets, made of processed iron ore, heated and rolled into marble-size balls. Departing Superior about 2:30 pm, she was soon joined by the Arthur M. Anderson, which had departed Two Harbors, Minnesota under Captain Bernie Cooper. The two ships were in radio contact. The Fitzgerald being the faster took the lead, with the distance between the vessels ranging from 10 to 15 miles. Aware of a building November storm entering the Great Lakes from the great plains, Captain McSorley and Captain Cooper agreed to take the northerly course across Lake Superior, where they would be protected by highlands on the Canadian shore… According to Captain Cooper, about 6:55 pm, he and the men in the Anderson’s pilothouse felt a “bump”, felt the ship lurch, and then turned to see a monstrous wave engulfing their entire vessel from astern. The wave worked its way along the deck, crashing on the back of the pilothouse, driving the bow of the Anderson down into the sea. No one knows exactly what happened to the Edmund Fitzgerald, but 29 men lost their lives on that fateful day. The great ship did not survive the 80mph winds nor the 25-foot waves that Lake Superior threw at the Fitz that day. Ley writes, “what caused the ship to take on water, enough to lose buoyancy and dive to the bottom so quickly, without a single cry for help, cannot be determined.” Shipwrecks are still being discovered today. In fact, the J.S. Seaverns, a 130-ft. ship that went under in 1884, was just discovered in the summer of 2016. The J.S. Seaverns was used to haul supplies to lumber camps and to transport supplies to build railroads from 1880 until it sank in 1884. Amazingly, 132 years later, much of the ship was largely intact when it was discovered writes Andrew Krueger from the Duluth News Tribune. Ships aren’t the only vessels to sink to their watery graves only to be preserved in the arctic water – people are preserved, too. Lake Superior Doesn’t Give Up Her Dead An old saying, “Lake Superior doesn’t give up her dead.” is both folklore and fact. The cold water of Lake Superior does not allow bacteria to grow like it would in warmer water. The bacteria that usually causes the body to bloat and float is kept at bay in the frigid waters of Lake Superior. Because the temperature of the water is so cold, bodies can be preserved for many years in the deep depths of Lake Superior where water lingers around 34F or 1.1C. One can imagine the secrets and stories that Lake Superior has yet to reveal, or may never reveal. Even though the deep depths of the lake contain sad and tragic stories, the surface of the water and surrounding land offer incredible scenery and opportunities for the young and old. See the last installment to my Lake Superior series here: Lake Superior: The World’s Best Playground
Fly Fishing For Trout in Minnesota: A Summer Paradise
Time To Head Out My husband and I roll down the car windows and turn up the radio as the heat of the day creeps up. We turn onto the back country roads that run parallel to the river, and listen to the crunch of the wheels on the gravel roads. Once we reach the easement to the river, we park on the side of the road and prepare for fly-fishing. Chest waders go on first, followed by our fly-vests. The leather harnesses of our split-willow creels are draped across our chests – though we never seem to keep the trout we hook. Two-way radios are hooked onto our vests to communicate on the stream, and waterproof cameras stuffed into pockets to capture the moment we catch a lunker. We grab our fly-rods and head out. Waiting Waters Tall grass and wildflowers greet my husband and me as we step off of the road. Five-foot tall stinging nettle threatens us as we near the trout stream. We lift our arms and rods high in the air to avoid its sting, while dodging the outstretched arms of nearby trees grasping at the tips of our rods. A light morning fog appears before us – a sure sign that the icy water of the stream is imminent. We crouch beside the bank of the trout stream as we approach the water. The water is clear, but alive. An ever-observant brown trout darts from under the bank beneath our feet – spooking several other fish in the process. My husband whispers that he is heading upstream. I will stay here as there are fish to catch. I enter the waiting waters cautiously as my husband tiptoes away. Swift currents and smooth rocks underfoot threaten my balance. I take my time – feeling out each step before fully committing. Cold water presses my waders against my legs as I move toward the center of the river – cooling me from the heat of the day. I have my eye on an undercut bank on the opposite side of the river a few yards upstream. I stop in the middle of the river – it needs to rest. The water continues to rush past me, carrying away the evidence of my arrival, and the trout calm – a sense of peace restored. The Rhythm Of The Cast Bringing the fly-rod straight up, I grip the fly-line with my rod hand as I release the fly from the hook holder with my other. I peel line off of my reel, letting the hook and line drop beside me. The floating line moves with the tumultuous water – curling and twisting around me before straightening as the water carries it downstream. I grip the line by the reel with my free hand and raise the tip of the fly-rod into the air – keeping the rod in line with my forearm. In a straight and fluid movement, I bring the rod tip down in front of me – pausing to let the fly-line follow. I repeat the pattern, but this time I allow the line to unroll on the surface of the water after the last forward movement. The fly lands in the quiet water near the undercut bank. Patience Moving water carries the line back toward me as I watch carefully for any movements indicative of a strike. I slowly pull the slack line through the guides on my rod. As the fly approaches, I begin the rhythmic casting again. The process repeats until I see the slightest pause in the movement of the fly-line as it floats toward me. Everything surrounding me disappears as I focus solely on the line. I hold the fly-line and raise my rod tip straight into the air as I feel the erratic pull on the line – fish on. Keeping the rod tip up, I strip the line steadily while keeping the line taut. The fish attempts to dart back under the bank, and I lose my footing for a moment as I try to maneuver the fish, but remain standing. Up stream, down stream, through fallen trees, and around large boulders – the fish tries to escape, but I am patient. Soon I land the 10″ brook trout. Keeping the fish underwater, I gently dislodge the hook. The scales are so small that the trout feels smooth – almost scaleless. The gold color of the fish is highlighted by red spots rimmed with an electric blue. I observe the most obvious sign that I have caught a brook trout – the contrasting white accents on the bright orange, lower fins. Gently, I lower the fish deeper into the water allowing it to swim away. It swims slowly to the river bottom – pausing to recuperate before moving on. I radio my husband to notify him of my catch. Time to move. I move upstream; looking for a new place to land my fly. Downstream of fallen logs or large boulders, deep holes – often appearing turquoise in color, or another undercut bank will do. My husband and I fish a couple more hours as the fog disappears under the heat of the mid-day sun. Submersed in Beauty We pause for a lunch break, a quick dip in the water – yes, it takes our breath away, and an hour of reading by the trout stream. My husband goes back to fishing late in the afternoon, but I choose to sit on the bank near where he fishes. I enjoy watching him fly-fish as the cast of a fly-rod is one of the most breathtaking displays – an art. The rhythm of the cast and the silent movement of the fly-line in the air is captivating. The way the line rolls out on the surface of the water is awe-inspiring. I sit for an hour before the fog begins to return as the sun lowers in the sky. Twilight arrives and sparks of light begin flickering throughout the
Grounding: A Lesson From My Daughter
A few days ago I walked out on my back deck to find this: A little human footprint among the puppy prints in the snow. That would be my daughter. She is the only one in the house who would venture out into the new fallen snow in her bare feet. I couldn’t help smiling after seeing her prints in the snow, which also started a chain of thoughts on my end. First of all, my daughter is the queen of barefoot walking. I’m sure we have all gone through periods of walking barefoot, with most happening during childhood. I remember the thrill of walking, running, climbing, and jumping barefoot when I was young. Climbing trees was easiest when my little piggies were free. Jumping in cool puddles after a rain was bliss. And, racing through the soft green grass while we played neighborhood games was so much fun. But, these times are gone. My feet have lived in shoes while outside for many years. Now it’s my daughter’s turn to go barefoot while climbing trees, jumping in puddles, and playing neighborhood games. She also goes barefoot while hiking and taking the dogs for long walks. Only wearing shoes while going into public buildings, or boots when temperatures dip too low here in the great state of Minnesota. My daughter is determined to go barefoot, and she’s determined to get others to try it too. The Birthday Party One month ago, at my daughter’s birthday party, I overheard her talking to her cousin about going barefoot outside. Her cousin hardly steps foot outside without his shoes on, but my daughter convinced him by saying “Just try it. If you practice a little each day, your feet will get stronger and tougher, and you will feel attached to the Earth.” My nephew got a big smile on his face as he headed out the front door sans shoes with my daughter. As she bounded onto our gravel driveway without missing a beat, I had to laugh a little when my nephew looked, well, he looked how I probably look when I try to walk on that dang driveway. Limping, stepping as light as he could (not that this really helps), and heading straight for the grass. “See?” my daughter said, “It’s not that bad.” Ha! That’s what she thinks. My nephew remained shoe-less for the remainder of the afternoon. He’s stronger than I am. When my daughter said that my nephew’s feet would feel stronger and tougher after going barefoot, I understood what she was talking about. She convinced me to try going barefoot a few times this past summer on our gravel driveway just for the sake of making my feet tougher. I imagine I looked like an injured fool as I navigated the driveway. Tiptoeing as fast as I could to reach the reprieve of the soft, green grass, but limping each time I stepped on one of those evil, larger, gravel stones. My daughter laughed as she took off running down the driveway. Her feet are tough. This I observed, but her statement “…you will feel attached to the Earth” is what I had questions about.” After seeing her footprint in the snow, I asked my daughter “Do you remember when you talked your cousin into going barefoot at your birthday party?” “Yes.” she responded. “What did you mean when you told him that soon he would feel attached to the Earth?” I asked. She replied “I don’t know, I just feel connected to the Earth when I go barefoot, and it makes me feel good.” This response reminded me of a comment one of my readers had written on my Get Outside and Get Into Nature: Your Mind and Body Will Thank You post. Grounding Dr. Allison Brown wrote: “Have you heard of Grounding? Just putting our feet on the earth causes measurable, physiological changes that impact the health issues you’ve mentioned and more! Humans are wired to require a connection to the Earth!” Grounding is a concept I have never heard or read about. Could grounding be the “connection” my daughter experiences when she walks barefoot outside? What is Grounding? Grounding (also known as Earthing) happens when the Earth’s surface electrons are transferred into the human body through direct contact with the ground, such as walking barefoot. In our body, free radicals are unpaired electrons that scavenge the body to seek our other electrons so they can become a pair. This action causes damage to cells, proteins and DNA. Free radicals are associated with many human diseases including cancer, Alzheimer’s disease, Parkinson’s disease, and many others (Lobo et al., 2010). When the skin comes in contact with the earth, free electrons are taken up into the body. These electrons are natural antioxidants and help neutralize damaging free radicals. Antioxidants are molecules which can safely interact with free radicals and terminate any harmful reaction before vital molecules are damaged. Okay, so how does this help our bodies? Benefits of Grounding Oschman et al., 2015, wrote: Electrons from the Earth may in fact be the best antioxidants, with zero negative secondary effects, because our body evolved to use them over eons of physical contact with the ground… The disconnection from the Earth may be an important, insidious, and overlooked contribution to physiological dysfunction and to the alarming global rise in non-communicable, inflammatory-related chronic diseases. According to Chevalier et al., 2012, emerging scientific research supports the concept that the Earth’s electrons induce several physiological changes in the human body such as reduced pain, better sleep, a shift from sympathetic (fight or flight) to parasympathetic (rest and digest) tone in the autonomic nervous system (ANS), and a blood-thinning effect. Further exploring the effects of grounding, Oschman et al., 2015, conducted a study where they repeatedly observed that grounding increases the speed of healing and decreases or completely eliminates inflammation. They discuss that grounding is a simple, natural, free, and accessible health strategy that can be used against chronic inflammation. Pain and
Community: The Fellowship of the 1920’s to the Ghost Towns of Today
This period between 1923 and the early thirties seems to me was the end of a rich community fellowship, the parties, and the ball teams of which each community had one… It was the end too of meetings at Larson’s Hall and these neighborhood times have never come back. ~ Roy Falk, 1977 Only recently has the idea of community piqued my interest. Why? Because before now, I didn’t know what I was missing. I didn’t know what a true community was. For the past year I have studied my great-grandfather’s (Roy Falk) memoirs in great depth. His words, as he reflects on his childhood, have started to stir up a sort of longing inside of me. A longing for “de good old days”. A longing for the way that neighbors came together in times of need, for the relationships that were forged between community members at the local creamery, for the way children gathered en masse to play games, and for the free time that was available to build a rich community fellowship. My family and I are surrounded by thousands of people here in the suburbs, but you wouldn’t know this by taking a walk through our neighborhood on a typical day. No one is outside enjoying the perfectly manicured lawns, the giant playground sits empty – desperate for screaming children full of energy, and the walking trails are largely unused and quiet, which makes for wonderful wildlife viewing around the many ponds, but is not so great for meeting friends. I know that there is a simple answer for why this is – times have changed. What is a community? Community, as described by doctors David M. Chavis & Kien Lee, is about people. A community is not a school, a church, or a neighborhood – these are just places. It’s not the exchange of information over the World Wide Web – it’s much more than this. Community is: …both a feeling and a set of relationships among people. People form and maintain communities to meet common needs. Members of a community have a sense of trust, belonging, safety, and caring for each other. They have an individual and collective sense that they can, as part of that community, influence their environments and each other. That treasured feeling of community comes from shared experiences and a sense of—not necessarily the actual experience of—shared history. As a result, people know who is and isn’t part of their community. This feeling is fundamental to human existence. “De Good Old Days” As I read my great-grandfather’s memoirs, examples of community are woven throughout. I wonder if he realized this. I imagine he did. Group Gatherings Great-Grandpa shared many stories where neighbors gathered together. For example: The young people built a dance platform in the woods 1/4 mile from our house on the farm Pete [my great-grandfather’s uncle] had just sold. Pete and Betsy [Pete’s wife] both loved to dance… [August Helberg] was a violin player and played for the dances held in the woods where the young people had built the platform (no roof or walls). If it didn’t rain they had dances every Saturday night. We could plainly hear the violin at our farm if we listened. and Stanly Store was always an honest store, well-liked by the community. Trade during the time the creamery was running was heavy. The young fellows of the neighborhood would meet there any night to have a pleasant evening and I spent many evenings there. The store and garage and barn are all gone now, not a trace of it is left in 1975. People gathered together to enjoy the company of others, build relationships, exchange stories, and explore common interests. But, these weren’t the only signs of a healthy community. Neighbors offering help in times of need was also an important part of my great-grandfather’s life. In Times of Need Great-Grandpa reminisced about the loving relationship between his mother and one of her best friends: Here there lived a cantankerous old man called, or rather nicknamed, Rovel (Swedish) Warble Nelson on account of the peculiar way he talked. His wife and mother to the children was a great friend of my mothers and much respected in the community. She died around 1909 and as my mother had been with her much during her sickness, she had told whoever was home with Mrs. Nelson when she died should pull a curtain shade on a certain window. So, as we watched we saw the shade pulled. There was no telephone yet so this was just a way of communication. About a teacher who was welcomed into his home as she began her career in the local one-room school house: In 1915 or 1916, an Irish girl by the name of Molly Gilmore came to live with us and teach our school. She was a good teacher and much respected and loved by her pupils of which I was one. One thing she did that was unusual was she put up a hurdle for us in the school aisle using a long broom handle for a bar. This we could adjust by adding or taking away books. She taught us the high jump and some of us became proficient in this sport. I jumped six feet later on because I used to jump fences – sometimes to my sorrow! Even when a new family moved into the town, poor and in desperate need of help, the community did all that they could: The children were too young [there were five total]. They were desperately poor as they produced almost nothing to sell. The neighbors would chip in and provide help. My father took the sleigh and horses and collected a lot of flour, beans, spuds, groceries, rutabagas, etc., which was a great help… All the children of this family were successful after they left this home. Neighbors also helped out on the farm: Ole was a surgeon of no mean merit – he would come and castrate
The Lure of Fishing
“Mom, will you write a story about fishing this week?” asked my son as we were sitting at the dinner table earlier in the week. “What made you ask that? I asked him. “Well, you like to write about nature, and fishing is a ‘naturey’ thing.” he replied. I smiled and said “You’ve got that right. I really like your idea! Fishing it is.” After all, we were planning on heading to the cabin in a few days – the place where I learned to fish when I was a little girl. The perfect spot to get me in the fishing frame-of-mind. Cabin As soon as we arrived at the cabin this evening, my family piled onto the old pontoon. My husband pushed the pontoon away from the dock, my daughter scooted onto my lap, settling in to drive the pontoon to our favorite fishing spot, and my son was busy setting up his line already. While my daughter steered the boat out of Cabin Bay (an endearing name given by my children), she commented on the shoreline just four doors down from our cabin “Look at their perfect shoreline! They have a tree hanging over the water which is perfect for bass.” That’s my little fishergirl. Tonight I’ve decided that I’m not going to fish. Instead, I’m going to start this fishing story that my son has requested – a story that I’m excited to write as fishing has been an important part of my family for many generations. In fact, my great-great-grandparents depended on fish to help sustain them, as they were farmers that were the second generation removed from Sweden, and had very little money. In the words of my great-grandfather: In the early spring before the ice was off the lake, we put our long gill nets in. We had two, I think. They were 30 feet long which gave us 60 feet of gill nets. My father and I would walk down to the lake about four in the afternoon, row out to the edge of the ice, and row slowly along the edge as the net was laid out. Sometimes we had fish to bring home with us at once. The next morning we picked off all the fish in the nets, sometimes as much as half a gunnysack full. It was always a cold job, but rewarding. These fish, mostly northern and sunfish, were all delicious coming from the ice cold water. I loved to walk along the shore wearing knee boots and shoot fish. If I shot above the water the concussion would stun the fish and they would turn up and be picked up. We shot two one day, one weighed 19 ½ pounds – another 14 pounds. This was illegal, but the game warden never bothered anyone till after World War I, when they tightened up on us. After that, we never put out the nets, but I continued to shoot fish. This was only possible when the fish were spawning and swimming in the meadows at high water. They would lay their eggs in the low meadows then go back to the deep lake, but I shot lots of big fish in season. Fishing wasn’t isolated to early spring. My great-grandfather continued: Victor Erickson and I would also spear fish in the night late in the fall. Using a gasoline torch, we could see the bottom of the lake and easily spear any fish that showed; one man rowing the boat backwards, the other standing at the stern where the light was with the spear ready to stab. Back In The Day Gone are the days of using nets and spears for fishing in my family. Our typical outing requires a rod with hook and bobber, and a tin of wax worms, a container of leeches, or a bucket of night crawlers that the kids collect after the sun goes down. Growing up, my parents or grandparents would take the children out in the old Lund or Alumacraft boats, and we would drop a line somewhere along the shore of the cabin lake. Sunfish, crappies, perch, northern, walleye, and largemouth bass were the typical species that were pulled out of the water, but dogfish, sheephead, bullhead, and carp would surprise us on occasion. I remember the excitement of seeing the bobber go down, the competitions my family used to have to see who could get the biggest or most fish, and watching wildlife as the sun went down in the evening (although, back then I didn’t realize the importance of this). As we sit on the pontoon, I ask the kids what makes fishing fun for them. My daughter simply says “I like to catch the fish.” My son replies “I like to watch the bobber start to go under, and I love not knowing if the fish is big or small, or what type of fish it is.” Neither of them commented on the wildlife around them, but my daughter admired the beautiful sunset, and my son was watching birds fly about. Immersed in their surroundings. The Fishing Experience As I look around me I see the sugar maples starting to turn hues of yellow, orange, and red on this late-September day. Majestic white pines are sparse among the maple trees, but they tower over all others – dark green with soft, long needles. Wild rice along the shoreline has started to turn autumn brown, but the arrowhead plants are still a bright green. The day has been unusually warm, gracing us with temperatures in the mid-80’s. A light breeze blows from the south – warm for the most part, but cool when the gusts lift off the cold water. The dog is lying in her favorite spot on the front deck of the pontoon. My husband and children are quiet – entranced by casting, waiting, reeling, and casting again. Wood ducks startle and fly out of nearby cattails, a sharp-shinned hawk flies overhead, and the rough squawking
Minnesota’s North Shore: From Fire and Ice to a World-Class Lake
The beginning was a dramatic fire and ice event – the end resulted in a world-class lake.
Tadpoles: Catching, Raising, and Observing Metamorphosis
Think back to your childhood and recall some of your happiest moments. What were you doing? Where were you? Who were you with (if anyone)? Last evening, my family was out on a late evening walk to go look at the fireflies that grace us with their diamond-like sparkling at dusk on these warm summer nights. The wetlands near our house seem almost magical with the thousands of fireflies that surround us as we stroll down the path. The sight of the twinkling fireflies always inspires my daughter to break out in her sweet, made-up songs while the rest of us listen, smile, and walk quietly beside her. As we made our way back home, we all started to talk about what makes us happy (I guess the fireflies inspired us). All of our answers contained one commonality: being outside. Happiness for me is hiking, spending time at the cabin, and gardening; my husband said playing soccer, fishing, and camping; my daughter piped in with spending time with the chickens; and my son said exploring or treasure hunting. Now, my son doesn’t go treasure hunting for items like money, jewelry, etc., he, for the most part, hunts for natural treasures. Like tadpoles! Catching Tadpoles Late in the spring, when the edges of the lakes or creeks begin to warm up from the sun, tadpoles start to emerge from their eggs and swarm the shallow waters. This year my son had his trusty sidekick (my daughter) join him in his treasure hunt for tadpoles. The two amigos collected the supplies needed for the hunting expedition and set out on their tadpole hunt. Supplies needed for tadpole hunting: bucket minnow net (using hands works too) With feet sloshing in and out of the shallow, warm water, my son and daughter slowly and carefully tiptoed through the marshy edge of the lake. Within minutes I hear: “Oh my gosh! There are millions of tadpoles in here! Mom, you have got to come and see this!” I could read the excitement on my kids’ faces as they scooped up tadpoles and plopped them in the bucket. My son also pulled out some type of aquatic grass to add to the bucket, not only to give the tadpoles shade if they needed it, but to give them food and oxygen too. After collecting quite a few tadpoles, we brought the bucket home and constructed a nice home for our tadpoles to grow in. Building A Make-shift Tadpole Pond A tadpole home needs: Fresh water from a lake, pond, or creek (tap water has too many chemicals for tadpoles to live in). A large, shallow container (we use an old saucer sled). Rocks or other items that break the surface of the water (when the tadpoles morph into frogs or toads, they need a way to get out of the water and breath air). Food such as algae, natural organic matter that has decomposed on the floor of the lake, and other aquatic vegetation such as duckweed (most of these things can be found in the environment you found the tadpoles living in). Observation After bringing the tadpoles home, my children decided to explore the tadpole water as they added the tadpoles to their make-shift pond. For hours, the two of them sat exploring the creatures in the water with their net. Every new organism was put in a separate clear container for observation. They found, snails, clams, minnows, tiny water bugs the size of a deer tick, and a fresh water shrimp! We have had the tadpoles in their pond for over a month now. According the Minnesota DNR, Minnesota frog and toad species can take a little less than two months and up to two years to make the metamorphosis from tadpole to adult frog or toad. Within the past month most of our tadpoles have begun to grow their legs and arms, and some have morphed from the aquatic vegetarian with tails and gills, to omnivorous toadlets (that eat insects) with limbs and lungs. The toads you see above still need to develop their tough bumpy skin, and at this stage, they are smaller than my pinky fingernail. How is the rest of the pond life fairing? The duckweed in our make-shift pond has at least tripled in number, the aquatic grass plant is still healthy, and the shrimp, minnows, snails, and other aquatic species are alive and well. We have ourselves a healthy microcosm we get to observe each and every day. What a fun and interesting learning tool! Microcosms are a self-contained model of something that is much bigger in size. Our microcosm is a pond, complete with tadpoles, shrimp, minnows, aquatic plants, snails, and mud. We’ve also had rain that continues to fill our pond with natural water a few times per week. This year, our pond has been completely self-sustaining. After setting up the pond, we’ve had to put no work into it. The only work we do is to sit and gratefully observe. Embark On A Treasure Hunt For Tadpoles Seeing the complete metamorphosis from tadpole to toad has been so much fun for our whole family. Once the last toad leaves our pond, we will return the water and the rest of the pond inhabitants back into the lake. I urge you to go outside on a treasure hunt of your own in search of tadpoles. Then you can enjoy a summer full of exploration, transformation, learning, and excitement by the side of your own little pond.
Sweet Clover, Summer Memories, and a Wildflower Bouquet
As the kids and I took a walk down our road to the lake, the intoxicating smell of sweet clover, vanilla mixed with fresh-cut hay, permeated the air. Late June in Minnesota is when the summer wildflowers awaken and adorn the sides of the roads, prairies, and edges of our 10,000+ lakes. On this particular day, my daughter started collecting wildflowers on the side of the road as we walked toward the lake. “Mom, I’m going to make you the most beautiful wildflower bouquet today.” As my daughter waded through the tall grass and wildflowers, she gathered: Black-eyed Susans, Prairie Fleabane, Tufted Vetch, Virginia Waterleaf, Yellow and White Sweet Clover, Ox-eye Daisies, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Red Clover. Once we arrived at the lake, my son picked an exquisite American White Water Lily, also known as the Fragrant Water Lily, to add to the bouquet. Before long we had a beautiful wildflower bouquet of all different colors, textures, and scents waiting to adorn our kitchen table. My family has been picking wildflowers along the roadside on our walks for year. One thing that always comes to mind, when reminiscing of these ventures, is the smell of sweet clover. In fact, my children have learned to identify sweet clover when it emerges from the soil in the early spring. First, there is excitement at finding the plant itself, but then a serious race ensues to see who can pick and smell the first sweet clover leaves of the year. There is nothing like the smell of sweet clover, especially on a warm summer day like today. Years ago, as a teenager, I remember helping my boyfriend (who is now my husband) with his summer lawn mowing jobs. There was this particular spot in a yard that smelled especially sweet every time we would mow. Determined to identify the plant, I would stop and search high and low for the plant that smelled so sweet. Finally I found a plant that appeared to be a type of clover (three finely-toothed leaflets). After my job, I remember going home and telling my mother about this clover plant that had the most wonderful smell. She said “Oh, sweet clover! That was your great-grandpa’s favorite smell as well.” Little did my mother know, that my great-grandfather had actually written a journal entry about his memories of clover. What I remember was that mother laid me in the shade at the edge of the field and cocked the hay as my father raked it. The smell of the Red Clover drying and the humming of the bees comes back vividly now as I write of this happening. ~Roy Falk My mother’s aunt (who typed up my great-grandfather, Roy Falk’s, journals) noted how incredible my great-grandfather’s memory must have been to remember incidents that happened before he could even sit up on his own. I was also surprised, but I know it’s not unheard of. In fact, I remember one incident that happened when I was a baby in a walker. I was at a family friend’s house, and as I was wheeling around, the dog who lived at that house accidentally pushed me down the stairs in my walker. I was amazingly unharmed, but the memory of tumbling down those stairs and being terrified is still sharp in my mind. The sweet smell of the Red Clover and the buzzing of the bees must have had quite an impact on Great-Grandpa for him to recall this memory so well. After reading Great-Grandpa’s journal entry, I was interested to see if there was a purpose of the clover being in the hay field. According the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR), clover was brought over to the United States from Europe in the 1600’s. It was used as a forage crop (to feed livestock) and as a cover crop (where it is used to keep weeds down and enrich the soil). Clover plants have very long tap roots that extend several feet below the top soil. This tap root brings nutrients such as nitrogen up to the top soil, nourishing nearby shallow-rooted plants. I wish I could have been sitting next to the field with Great-Grandpa, listening to the bees and smelling the hay and clover as it dried in the fields. As I’m writing this, my husband and children are imploring me to accompany them on our daily walk. I think I’m ready to go out and smell the sweet clover again after sharing this story. I urge you to make your way outside and embark on a journey to look for some summer wildflowers. You may just come home with a beautiful bouquet, and if you’re lucky, you’ll catch the scent of vanilla and fresh-cut hay drifting the air.
Birding: Let a Child Guide You
Have you ever been on a walk with a child and noted that they find coins on the ground quite often (coins that you passed right by without seeing), or that children can easily spot a bird far off in the distance, or that they notice a line of ants marching across the path carrying chewed pieces of leaves right before you would have stepped on them? Last winter my family and I took a good, long road trip from Minnesota all the way down to Grand Isle, Louisiana to escape the MN cold, but more importantly, to explore areas we’ve never been. How refreshing to see all the sights on our trip through the eyes of my children. Their excitement was contagious! Arriving at the ocean felt like seeing it for the first time myself. My kids found heaps of shells, spotted the beautiful Man O’ War, felt the push of the ocean waves as they swam toward shore, and discovered that the many quarter-sized holes in the sand were home to a type of hairy land crab. My children still get excited to tell of the treasures they unearthed on their trip. Anyhow, when we returned home from our explorations, my father-in-law had left us a section of The Wall Street Journal on our kitchen counter with a specific article circled for us to read. The article was titled, When Children Beat Adults at Seeing the World, and was written by Alison Gopnik, an American professor of psychology and affiliate professor of philosophy at the University of California, Berkeley. In the article, Alison discusses how adults are better at focusing their attention and learning as a result, but children are better at learning about anything unattended. In other words, adults only seem to focus on objects, ideas, etc. that are at the center of their attention, whereas children also learn about and attend to things that are happening in the background. So, the next time you think a child is not paying attention (watching a bird find worms outside the school window, staring at a spider building a web during homework, or chasing a leaf during soccer practice), perhaps that child is really paying attention to more than you know, exploring more, and learning much more than you think. Perhaps this would be a good time to ask that child what he or she was looking at or thinking about. You may just learn something new too! How about testing out this idea by bringing a child birding with you? Birding is a great way to get outdoors, get into nature, and it doesn’t have to cost you a penny. According to the Audubon site, the U.S. is home to 47 million birders. If you think about it, birding is really a scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt that you can partake in anywhere in the world and can last a lifetime. There are really only two things you need to do to begin birding: Find a green space or water source. Go on a walk. That’s it! So very simple. These are other things that may make your birding experience more fruitful: Bring along a pair of binoculars. Go to the library and rent a birding field guide. Use a checklist or nature journal to record your sightings. Download a free app for phones like the Audubon Bird Guide App. This particular app has data on 821 species of birds, more than 8,200 photos, and eight hours of bird sounds. Do a little research prior to your outing to see which birds you should be looking for at that particular time of year. Bring a child along. I’m not much for carrying anything cumbersome on my hikes, so I don’t ever take binoculars, a field guide, or a journal, but I do have my children right beside me, and they are, in my opinion, the best birding resource. They sure spot birds, insects, mushrooms, and anything else that is different or exciting with little effort. Last weekend, a few members of my family went out on our typical nature walk up at the cabin. When we returned, we noticed that the others who had stayed behind were intently looking up into the old basswood tree. The kids ran down to explore, and they excitedly came running back yelling “A mama hummingbird has a nest up in the tree by the deck!” We’ve never observed a hummingbird nest here in Minnesota. This nest just happened to be about 10 feet from the deck railing. The nest itself was not much larger than a silver dollar, and after closer inspection of the pictures I took with the camera, the nest almost seemed to glitter in green in black. We know that hummingbirds use spider webs to tie twigs and plant material together, which also makes the nests soft and stretchy. This particular hummingbird used tiny little pieces of sage-green lichen to weave into the silky-soft spider webs, along with a sparkly black substance, which we couldn’t identify. The tiny ruby-throated hummingbird seemed to perch regally in her magnificent nest. Definitely a sight to behold. I do have to note that my mother was the one to spot the sweet ruby-throated hummingbird in her nest. We have often teased my mother, in good nature, about being one of the kids. Mom has always taken this as a compliment, and I’ve always appreciated her easy-going, fun-loving personality. “You’re only as old as you feel!” Perhaps she has learned the trick to not only learning by focusing, but learning by exploring too. Thanks to this, we have been treated to watching Miss Ruby tend to her nest the last couple of weeks. I hope we’ll get to catch a glimpse of the tiny babies when they emerge from the tiny, navy bean-sized eggs. The next time you head out for a walk, bring your child, grandchild, or a friend with their child with you to see how many different birds you can spot