Spring Flames — sounds like the title of a romance novel. My love for The Springs was aflame yesterday in the form of 42 brush piles that, driven by swirling, mostly westerly winds, flared bright and hot. The conditions were good enough that I had no ambition other than to light as many fires as I could.
“God gave the day, God gave the strength. And the day and the strength were consecrated to labor, and that labor was its own reward. For whom the labor? What would be its fruits? These were idle considerations– beside the point.” Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina, Book 3 Chapter 12
Based on the age of the brush piles and the wind direction, I picked the north side of the Scuppernong River as the target for the day.
Here are a couple perspectives from the trail just in front of the old barn site.
The view from where I drew my sled.
The winds became more consistent as the flurries stopped and the sun broke through, and the times I had to go back and relight a pile decreased. At some point every pile burst into a flare that swirled with the wind and always got my attention.
I changed out of my sweaty clothes and bundled up for a walk whereon I soon met Ben Johnson. He joined my stroll and our conversation made the time and steps fly by, as we enjoyed the beautiful winter sky.
Our reasons for dedication to the land vary like fingerprints. Perhaps it is inevitable, although we may think it’s a free will choice, and it may be the happy synchronization of love and career. In any case, I’m heartened by more deeply recognizing the commitment so many people have to nurturing the land.
Jared Urban, with the DNR’s Natural Heritage Conservation Bureau, helped me understand the challenges that they face to secure funding and the necessity for grant writing (and winning) to realize their goals. That prompted me to review the DEPARTMENT OF NATURAL RESOURCES 2013-2015 BIENNIAL BUDGET PROPOSAL to get a better idea of where the money comes from and I became aware of the increasing dependence on the Conservation Fund, which now accounts for 42.8% of the total budget (see pages i and ii in the budget proposal document above). My respect and admiration for the people who work at the Wisconsin DNR is always increasing yet, I’m confounded by the contradiction I cannot resolve between this fact and my antipathy for government in general.
Recently, I’ve been getting consistently excellent help from volunteers like Dick Jenks, Andy Buctha and Ben Johnson and I’m learning a ton from their different perspectives. Dick just introduced me to the Southeastern Wisconsin Invasive Species Consortium. I had no Idea this well-organized and dedicated group existed and I hope to work with and learn from them as well. They recently awarded my spiritual father, Mike Fort, with their Sweat Equity Award.
So, it is with boundless joy that I look forward to every day I spend at The Springs, knowing that I’m not alone, and that by the continued efforts of so many people, we can make the restoration of our planet inevitable.
Yesterday, Dick, Andy, Ben and I piled freshly cut brush near the entrance to the buckthorn alley.
We tried to pile as much as we could before the snow fell and almost got it all.
Ben and I took an abbreviated walk around The Springs, as I had a date with my parents back in Milwaukee. I’ll bet it looks beautiful today with a fresh coat of 2-3″ of powder!
People I meet at The Springs often ask: “Where did IT come from?”, referring to the buckthorn that grows there in dense thickets. I go only halfway attempting to explain it’s origins and uses leaving off the underlying causes and powers that be.
“History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put into words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a single nation, appears impossible.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace Second Epilogue, Chapter 1
The reasons given for why buckthorn was imported leave unexplained the causes that put into motion the people who brought it here. In a recent post I claimed to have “been to the mountaintop“, and I just returned from a new and thrilling literary mountaintop, “War and Peace“, that has given me new insight as to why I get out of bed at 5:30am on a cold winter morning to cut buckthorn.
“As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the earth lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth’s fixity and of the motion of the planets, so in history the difficulty of recognizing the subjection of personality to the laws of space, time, and cause lies in renouncing the direct feeling of the independence of one’s own personality. But as in astronomy the new view said: “It is true that we do not feel the movement of the earth, but by admitting its immobility we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting its motion (which we do not feel) we arrive at laws,” so also in history the new view says: “It is true that we are not conscious of our dependence, but by admitting our free will we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting our dependence on the external world, on time, and on cause, we arrive at laws.”
In the first case it was necessary to renounce the consciousness of an unreal immobility in space and to recognize a motion we did not feel; in the present case it is similarly necessary to renounce a freedom that does not exist, and to recognize a dependence of which we are not conscious.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, Second Epilogue, Chapter 12
I see now that it was inevitable that I should do battle against buckthorn. Growing up as the fifth of ten children I became acutely aware of the difference between justice and arbitrary will. From the war on drugs to the 9/11 wars, my perception of injustice inflamed me to impassioned protest; alas, to no avail. Thus the opportunity to fight the injustice of an oak woodland choked by that miscreant tree, has inevitably led me to direct my thwarted love for justice to fighting invasive species. And now I am hooked on the immediate, positive, feedback I get from destroying buckthorn. Yes, I’ve learned to love my servitude; I have no choice.
I was compelled by space, time and causes to cut buckthorn at The Springs this past Thursday and Friday (Dec. 5-6) and it seemed there was no choice but to cut at the buckthorn alley. Thus, driven by forces beyond reason and consciousness, we gassed up chainsaws and transformed a thicket (see the area marked in blue below).
Here is how it looked before Dick Jenks and I started cutting and Andy Buchta started piling.
And here is the view Wednesday after we quit.
As I tried to warm up in my truck, Ben Johnson arrived and we had a most agreeable time touring The Springs and dreaming out loud.
Colder weather was forecast for Friday so I stopped at REI on the way home to pick up some hand and foot warmers. Then, after a quick dinner of rice and beans, I went to the basement to clean the equipment and sharpen the chains; I had no choice.
Friday we were back at it again and Dick told me of his youth growing up on a dairy farm, giving a brief history of the demise of the family farm, which was inevitable. Dick didn’t need any hand warmers; he grew up on a farm.
The views below are: looking north towards the Ottawa Lake visitor center, looking east, and looking southeast down the buckthorn alley.
And after…
I was prepared for the cold and not surprised either by the beauty of the setting sun, moon, planets and stars.
Inevitably, during the winter I often have the place to myself, and I appreciate that.
Just like mountaineers climbing higher, then descending only to climb higher still, we begin acclimatizing to the winter season with a longer and longer periods of cold punctuated by balmy warm days like we had today at The Springs.
There was still a bit of snow covering the ground and we thought it would be safe to burn some piles. We started just west of signpost #1 where the views into the prairie start to open up. Here is what it looked like before we got started.
Dick Jenks fueling his machine.
We kept a close watch on the first batch of fires as there was strong breeze blowing in from the southwest.
After these fires had calmed down, we proceeded to light the piles along both sides of the buckthorn tunnel. Despite the fact that the buckthorn had been cut only 2 months ago, it was relatively easy to start it burning. Here is how it looked after we got 22 piles lit.
Dick and I cut a bunch of buckthorn as the brush piles burned. It was a warm sunny afternoon and Pati came out to pile brush along the cut-off trail for a couple hours. Then we relaxed and strolled the trails absentmindedly missing the sunset, which seemed to happen faster than usual.
I think I know what Martin Luther King meant when he said “I’ve been to the mountaintop!”
Yes, “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord” too. That’s why I do what I do. Since my first backpacking foray into the mountains 25 years ago I’ve seen some beautiful places and literally been to the mountaintop. Many days and nights in the back country taught me to see the lay of the land and filled a wellspring of unforgettable images within me. At The Springs I have a unique opportunity to shape the landscape and manifest my vision. It’s slowly becoming reality and the best part is sharing the creative process with other volunteers who have also “been to the mountaintop”.
The last two days I’ve been slashing and burning at The Springs with Dick Jenks and Andy Buchta. This was Dick’s first time working at The Springs and Andy was back again after his initiation last week. I really enjoyed their company and appreciated the way they “got after it”.
Tuesday we worked along the trail on the northeast section of the loop near signpost #13 and an old cranberry bog.
Dick getting some licks in.
Andy piling brush.
We laid down a lot of nasty buckthorn and opened up the views.
Later, Pati came out to join me for a walk just in time for a snow squall. It dawned on me that tomorrow would be a great day to start burning brush piles.
The next day (today/Wednesday) I was back with my propane torch and Dick joined me to help work the piles.
They were relatively easy to light and we had 21 going in a little over an hour.
Note the buckthorn crowding around the burning piles.
Borrowing a technique used by Mike Fort and the Friends of Lapham Peak, I cut a dozen or so huge buckthorns that were very near the burning piles and we threw the brush right into the fire. Then I cut a whole lot more but it seemed like we barely made a dent in the thicket.
Andy arrived shortly after noon, returning to the area we worked on Tuesday, and finished piling everything we had laid down there.
This past week has been our first taste of really cold weather this season and I’m getting used to it and looking forward to Winter.
The coldest day of the Fall season put us on our mettle. Ben Johnson and Andrew Buchta coincidentally converged with me for their first volunteer adventures at the Scuppernong Springs Nature Trail. I met Andrew at the DNR Volunteer appreciation lunch and Ben contacted me via this website. I should have gotten pictures of these hard working men in action poisoning stumps and piling brush.
It’s a good thing we were working right at the main parking lot on Hwy ZZ because it was a frigid day and we had to defrost the tip of the stump sprayer in our vehicles numerous times, even though the mix was 50% marine antifreeze. We eventually figured out that closing the nozzle after each use kept the tip from freezing up. Ben followed behind me with the sprayer and that was a very efficient way to go. I was amazed at how much we were able to cut, poison and pile. Here is how it looked before we got started.
We cleared so much ground that I ran out of stump poison and sharp chains! There were many dead slippery elms and aspen amongst the lively buckthorn. Check out the excellent results!
I’m looking forward to working with Ben and Andy again!
Pati had an intense work week and came out to join me for a walk after her last client. We bundled up against the cold wind and just caught the sunset from the Indian Campground on our way around the loop trail.
I lost control of my truck on the unexpected ice and barely stopped before intersecting the oncoming traffic. What was that? Seconds later, as I waited to turn left into the medical complex, I heard and felt the sickening impact of autobodies as the driver behind me skidded on the same ice patch and smacked me. My hat flew off and coffee erupted from my cup. Damn construction! I called Dr. Campbell, the surgeon who removed the cancerous tumor from my neck back in June 2011, and informed his assistant that I’d be a few minutes late for my annual checkup.
The blue sky silhouetting the might oaks on the hillside was immaculate and I was under Rudyard Kipling’s spell listening to Kim, “friend of all the world”, on audio book. What a tale filled with metaphors: the Great Game, the River of the Arrow, the Wheel of Life… and told in the context of the rich and incomparable Indian culture of the late 1890’s. I blissfully piled brush as Kim simultaneously “ripened” into a secret agent for the British empire and faithful chela to the Teshoo Lama.
Dr. Campbell said everything looked good and that I had “made the right choice” by refusing the radiation and chemotherapy they had strongly recommended after the surgery. I don’t know if I’m “acquiring merit” by volunteering in the forest, and it doesn’t matter, I felt the reward in the present moment and thankful tears welled up.
I finished stacking what we laid down last Saturday and tried to consolidate the piles so they would be easier to light when we get snow cover.
Then I headed over to the high ground at Bald Bluff to watch the sun down and thank the Creator for giving me another splendid day.
: area of knowledge : theory : science related to the genus Quercus.
Wisconsin DNR Conservation Biologist Jared Urban is one of the preeminent Oakologists in the state. Restoring and preserving oak savannahs and woodlands is an important goal of the DNR’s Endangered Resources Bureau, which has been newly christened as the Natural Heritage Conservation Bureau, and Jared has been focusing on this as he helps manage the State Natural Areas in Southeastern Wisconsin. Organizing volunteers is an important part of this effort and I had the pleasure of participating yesterday, along with the UW Whitewater Ecology Club, in a work day at the Oak Opening SNA in the southern unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest.
The skies were threatening rain as Jared, and fellow Oakologists Ginny Coburn, Zach Kastern and Diane filled ingeniously engineered stump poison delivery dauber devices. Note the use of a sawdust filled tray to catch any spills (thanks Zach!)
By the way, if you are receiving this post via email, you should be able to double click the video frame above to watch it on the internet. Much to my chagrin, being a 25 year I.T. veteran, none of the links to embedded Youtube videos delivered via email posts have worked since July 1 of this year. Oh well… if you want to see any of the cool videos I have linked to since then, you’ll have to visit this site. Hopefully the video links in the emails are working now.
Jared explains what we are trying to do and how we will do it.
The UW Whitewater Ecology club made an excellent contribution!
The rain arrived just after noon and I took shelter in Jared’s truck as we shared lunch and conversation. I wanted to finish cutting a swath of brush between two of the brush piles we started, and around 2:00pm the rain quit and I was able to get after it. Here is what it looked like at the end of the day.
The sun made a brief appearance and I saw blue skies behind the gray clouds that were rushing by so I headed over to Bald Bluff hoping to see a cool sunset.
Sundown at Bald Bluff.
Instead, the rain returned and chased me back to my truck. Nevertheless, it was a thoroughly enjoyable day.
Recently I noticed that my vision was blocked, even dimmed, by what I speculated where chemtrails.
Are chemtrails real? My big sky visions were obstructed again the past view days I spent piling brush at Ottawa Lake, to the point where I had to document what I was seeing and try to dissipate the cognitive dissonance clouding my mind. I even called the Waukesha Sheriff’s dispatch asking them to take a look.
When I arrived at the Ottawa Lake entrance on November 13th I noticed some jet contrails in the sky to the south and east, and when I got to the walk-in campsite 335 looking out over the lake to the west and north, I saw the sky full of contrails.
I tried to focus on the task at hand…
… but the contrails fanning out into huge clouds, that significantly blocked the sun’s rays for hours as they drifted south, stirred my response-able-ness and I called the Sheriff. Deputy Spak insisted on coming out to talk with me and arrived a few minutes later with two other sheriff’s deputies in two vehicles. We had a reasonable discussion about it and they provided me with contact information for a DNR Conservation Warden, who I am following up with. They suggested the clouds were “normal” exhaust vapors crystallizing in cold air and I begged to differ as we all conceded that none of us were expert enough to speak with authority on the matter.
I strive to be a reasonable person and the research I have done into this issue over the last few days has helped me understand what I think is the core issue at hand: global dimming. The pollutants we release into the atmosphere are blocking the sun’s rays and, whether the three types of contrails:
) Short-lived, non-persistent contrail (SLNPC),
2) Persistent contrail, non-spreading (PCNS) ,
3) Persistent contrail, spreading (PCS)
discussed here are the result of “normal” jet exhaust vapors or intentional geoengineering, the end result is global dimming. There is robust debate ongoing as to whether or not the contrails we see are normal or, the result of more aggressive solar radiation management techniques, which include dispersing toxic aluminum, barium and strontium into the atmosphere.
I wondered about this as the sun went down over Ottawa Lake.
I love the big sky and returned to Ottawa Lake yesterday to pile more brush. I hadn’t noticed the contrails yet…
… but when I got down to the wetland I saw them again. I wanted to focus on one in particular and see how it evolved.
The winds were blowing strong out of the southwest and the contrail from this jet billowed out into a thick ribbon as it passed over my head.
The long cloud at the top of the picture below is the contrail from the jet shown in the video above.
I pondered the question all day while piling brush until my back started to give out and I was reminded of my old shoulder injury.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence that I received the SHADE motion picture dvd anonymously in the mail a few weeks ago. It looks at geoengineering from a geopolitical perspective.
It would take a miracle for me to prove that the contrails I saw the past few days over the Scuppernong River valley were “normal” or something more sinister. In either case, they did significantly block the sun and I think this impact is unacceptable.
It’s been almost a year since the Three Brushcuteers joined forces to fight the thorny invaders of the Kettle Moraine State Forest. “All for one, one for all!”, they cried as they stacked the fallen enemy in neat piles along the trail just north of the old barn site (see recent post). Porthos, aka Lindsay Knudsvig, looked sharp in his tailored waistcoat and matching brush pants. Aramis, aka Rich Csavoy, although deeply religious, said the buckthorn didn’t have a prayer. Together we resolved to avenge the insult made by the buckthorn against the mighty and glorious oaks of the Kettle Moraine State Forest.
Here is what the battlefield looked like before we engaged the enemy.
As we worked, Aramis reminded us that it was 50 years ago that our king was slain in Dealey Plaza and, apparently, there is a new web of lies in the form of a digitally remastered video that purports to explain the path of the “magic” bullet. Athos, aka Paul, being immune to romantic feelings about the matter, dubiously viewed this conclusion based on the cold hard facts, e.g. the conclusions of the United States House of Representatives Select Committee on Assassinations and years of research into the matter. Unfortunately, the powers that be refuse to release thousands of pages of documentation. Why?
A last look as we left the battlefield.
Then we headed over to signpost #2 to reposition the railroad ties that had been dislodged and dragged into the brush.
Aramis, grabbed a couple loads of oak firewood before heading for home and Porthos and I took a stroll around the trail reminiscing about the many battles we fought at this “world class” site. There is tons of firewood, including well seasoned oak, piled at the worksite and all are welcome to come and take it. You might want to bring a chainsaw, and tools to split wood, to the location to facilitate harvesting.
I think this might be a Gar swimming in the pool at the Emerald Spring.
The day flew by and before I knew it I was bidding my dear companion Porthos farewell until next time.
Scuppernong Springs Nature Trail 