As I've said before (somewhere if not here), the institution of indentured servitude is re-emerging via college students' increasing dependence on student loans .
And it appears the yoke will only become heavier:
A general trend of historically low interest rates is ending, and the new government loans will have a fixed rate of 6.8 percent. If rates keep rising, students with the old variable rate loans could end up paying as much as 8.25 percent.
At least students are getting what they pay for.
*************************************************
Later today I'm heading up to Manistee to fish with my dad for a couple of days. Tales/pics of warmwater adventure should be up this weekend.
Tag: Education
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
The Predator in my Bed
I didn't go fishing this weekend, but my cat Pavlov enjoyed great success in hunting. Late Saturday night, Kristine and I were awakened by him howling out in the kitchen. Fearing he'd hurt himself, we ran out there, but saw that Pavlov wasn't the one in trouble. In his mouth was a mouse, still struggling. He dropped it so he could run after it again (which he usually does), at which point Kristine trapped the mouse in a box and took it outside. I have a feeling it didn't last long. Half an hour later, Pavlov carried up another one already stone dead. We prefer it that way, so we don't have to convey a convulsing, bleeding mouse outdoors or listen to Pavlov braying and galloping around the house while he finishes it off.
However, either of those endgames is better than awakening to find him sitting in bed chewing on a mouse, which we did on Sunday night. That happened once before, too. They're crunchy, apparently. Kristine has told me that once when I was away, Pavlov jumped into the bed and dropped next to her.
Pavlov caught seven mice over the course of the weekend, a feat without precendent while we've been in this house. I hope this rodent invasion was an anomaly, partly because I don't want mice in the house and partly because I'd like a break from Pav's midnight mayhem. I'm glad he catches the mice, but I wish he didn't feel he needed an audience for the coup-de-grace (couldn't he just polish them off in the basement where he catches them?) . This is the downside of an affectionate cat who loves human company--he wants to share everything with you, whether you appreciate it or not. We always praise him for catching mice; maybe he took that as an indication we'd like greater participation in the hunt. When we took a wounded mouse from him Sunday night, he stalked off with his tail flicking. Oh, our ingratitude!
And so a cat being a cat, performing an act that is valued by us and that in large part defines his being, leads to miscommunication and hurt feelings. Many people see the problems of petkeeping as damaged furniture or biting. But the problems of communication may be greater, or certainly harder to solve. In that department, people being people, making rational actions and statements, is apt to produce poor results. I can think of few common experiences that do more to show up the limitations or the insularity of the sensibilities encourged by modern societies than trying to relate to animals in some non-instrumental way.
However, either of those endgames is better than awakening to find him sitting in bed chewing on a mouse, which we did on Sunday night. That happened once before, too. They're crunchy, apparently. Kristine has told me that once when I was away, Pavlov jumped into the bed and dropped next to her.
Pavlov caught seven mice over the course of the weekend, a feat without precendent while we've been in this house. I hope this rodent invasion was an anomaly, partly because I don't want mice in the house and partly because I'd like a break from Pav's midnight mayhem. I'm glad he catches the mice, but I wish he didn't feel he needed an audience for the coup-de-grace (couldn't he just polish them off in the basement where he catches them?) . This is the downside of an affectionate cat who loves human company--he wants to share everything with you, whether you appreciate it or not. We always praise him for catching mice; maybe he took that as an indication we'd like greater participation in the hunt. When we took a wounded mouse from him Sunday night, he stalked off with his tail flicking. Oh, our ingratitude!
And so a cat being a cat, performing an act that is valued by us and that in large part defines his being, leads to miscommunication and hurt feelings. Many people see the problems of petkeeping as damaged furniture or biting. But the problems of communication may be greater, or certainly harder to solve. In that department, people being people, making rational actions and statements, is apt to produce poor results. I can think of few common experiences that do more to show up the limitations or the insularity of the sensibilities encourged by modern societies than trying to relate to animals in some non-instrumental way.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
A Nose for Panfish
A great many smells, pleasant and unpleasant, are closely if incidentally connnected with fishing: blooming wild roses, say, or a rotting deer carcass along a stream bank. But it seems some people use their noses to track down fish the way beagles sniff out rabbits hiding in the brush.
From the New Bern, NC Sun-Journal (via Midcurrent.com):
I was introduced to the fine art of smelling bream beds by my paternal grandmother, Granny Myrtle. She would walk around a farm pond with her nose held aloft like a bird dog searching the breeze for quail. Suddenly, she would stop, point toward an otherwise indistinct spot on the water’s surface, and announce that “there they are".... How did she know they were there? Granny would patiently explain that she had “smelled the beds.” When pressed to elaborate, she would say that she couldn’t describe the scent, but that “you’ll know it when you smell it.”
The smell of a bream bed is unlike anything else. It’s sort of sweet, sort of fishy and at least a little stinky. It’s not unpleasant, though. It’s unique and captivating. The best way to experience it is to work your way around the shallows of a farm pond this time of year, pausing at frequent intervals to sniff and consider the various aromas. The smell of freshly-plowed ground, of mowed grass, of decaying vegetation in a brackish marsh — those form the backdrop for the unique scent that forms around spots where bluegills have picked to procreate. Like Granny said, once you smell it, you’ll know what it is — and you’ll never forget it. From then on, when you come across it, you’ll know bream are nearby and ready for the catching.
Read the Rest
Bluegills (aka Bream) are bedding around here right now. I'm going to have to try this.
Tag: Fishing
From the New Bern, NC Sun-Journal (via Midcurrent.com):
I was introduced to the fine art of smelling bream beds by my paternal grandmother, Granny Myrtle. She would walk around a farm pond with her nose held aloft like a bird dog searching the breeze for quail. Suddenly, she would stop, point toward an otherwise indistinct spot on the water’s surface, and announce that “there they are".... How did she know they were there? Granny would patiently explain that she had “smelled the beds.” When pressed to elaborate, she would say that she couldn’t describe the scent, but that “you’ll know it when you smell it.”
The smell of a bream bed is unlike anything else. It’s sort of sweet, sort of fishy and at least a little stinky. It’s not unpleasant, though. It’s unique and captivating. The best way to experience it is to work your way around the shallows of a farm pond this time of year, pausing at frequent intervals to sniff and consider the various aromas. The smell of freshly-plowed ground, of mowed grass, of decaying vegetation in a brackish marsh — those form the backdrop for the unique scent that forms around spots where bluegills have picked to procreate. Like Granny said, once you smell it, you’ll know what it is — and you’ll never forget it. From then on, when you come across it, you’ll know bream are nearby and ready for the catching.
Read the Rest
Bluegills (aka Bream) are bedding around here right now. I'm going to have to try this.
Tag: Fishing
Friday, May 26, 2006
Piscatorial Pointers
Yesterday I discovered a unique fish blog, Trout Lore. TL publishes not personal recollections of fishing or fish-related news clips, but classic, if obscure, fishing books and articles. The blog's title is taken from a book of that name published in 1917. To date, I think there are only three selections available, but they're all gems.
One of them is "Hints for Practical Trout-Fishing" by Douglas Frazar, an article that appeared in 1877 in Harper's. The prose is dated, though still delightful--so genteel and cordial--but the sentiments are eternal among fishers. A few excerpts, with commentary:
At this season amateurs and tyros without number are enthusiastically engaged in this exciting and health-giving sport. Each, of course, in imagination expects to do much better this season than last; and to insure more success to those who love this pastime, and to enable those who do not feel fully posted in all the technique of this science [does anyone ever feel "fully posted" about trout fishing?] - for science it is - to improve in skill, these lines are penned: not that the writer expects that everything here set down will be new to all, but in hopes that useful hints may be drawn from it by many, and that at least enough useful information will be gained to pay for the perusal... [nice, modest opening...I can't stand know-it-all fishing writers]
Very few are aware how many running brooks contain the fish, unknown to even the inhabitants of near towns or villages. In fact, it may be stated as quite literally true that this fish can be captured in almost any running water, the verdict of surrounding farmers of “no trout” to the contrary notwithstanding.... Too many fishermen, wishing good fortune, are apt to be led to fish certain streams known to the surrounding inhabitants, because everybody else fishes them, and years ago, as you will hear, such and such quantities were taken by so and so. [Same as it ever was...]Unless such water is well known to contain fish, I would advise the fisherman to pass it quietly by, and take the first mountain or hill-side brook that he meets of which no one seems to know anything, and try his luck there.[130 years later, an untarnished pearl of wisdom.] Scarcely any quick-running brook is without this fish, unless for two reasons - first, if it is well known and persistently fished; secondly, if it has a sawmill erected upon it, so that the sawdust flows into the stream, the latter in large quantities always driving out trout. Do not, I say, be afraid to try new brooks. The idea, also, that brooks can be completely fished out is, as a rule, erroneous....[If only that were so! Actually, I suppose it is--habitat degradation is more likely to empty a creek than heavy fishing pressure, as Frazar indicates with his reference to sawdust.]
To enjoy this sport thoroughly one must first make up one’s mind not to capture many fish beyond seven inches in length; the common and usual size will be about six inches.[Can you imagine a contemporary fishing writer saying this?] Do not despise small brooks....[Again..sage and timeless advice.]
And now let me try to inform you how to capture them without breaking your pole or losing your tackle or temper.[This man understood the hazards of angling.]
To be successful in this sport, first give up all idea of using artificial flies; there is usually no chance to cast them, and very few fish will rise to them, and then only, usually, at early morn or sunset.[Alas, even the astute Mr. Frazar wasn't "fully posted."] Use a light but very short jointed pole, not over twelve feet in length, with fine delicate running gear and small compact reel; small hooks, gauged upon silk-worm gut, of any make that one prefers, there being great diversity of opinion on this matter among fishermen.The Limerick hook has nearly gone out of date, and how it was endured so long is a mystery. The Kirby and Aberdeen have taken its place.[ Our petty quarrels over tackle have a long lineage. I doubt many fishermen have heard of any of those hook styles, except possibly the aberdeen. If true that brings into sharp relief the triviality of the great fast rod vs. slow rod or large arbor reel vs. standard arbor debates.]
Use, as the most killing bait yet discovered, angle-worms; and these may be much improved by being kept a few days upon clean moss in an uncovered, large-mouthed bottle, that they may scour themselves. [I never imagined that fishing with worms could be so hygenic.] In baiting, do not pay the slightest attention to whether the point of your hook is covered or not; it is of small consequence, or rather it is more deadly and better not to be covered than otherwise. The trout does not nibble, he darts; he takes, as a rule, the bait at once, or leaves it severely alone.[How well I know that severity.]
Of course you are aware that the morning and evening hours are the best for this sport, and a cloudy southerly day the best weather; but in well-stocked brooks these fish will feed all day long, and you can get a good day’s sport with almost always a nice wind-up as the sun goes down. ["a nice wind-up as the sun goes down" doesn't quite evoke the feeling of being on the water at sunset. But I'm sure Mr. Frazar would have known the feeling I mean. And I'm sure anglers reading him in any century would know it too, and perceive it between his lines.]
Tags: Fishing; Literature
One of them is "Hints for Practical Trout-Fishing" by Douglas Frazar, an article that appeared in 1877 in Harper's. The prose is dated, though still delightful--so genteel and cordial--but the sentiments are eternal among fishers. A few excerpts, with commentary:
At this season amateurs and tyros without number are enthusiastically engaged in this exciting and health-giving sport. Each, of course, in imagination expects to do much better this season than last; and to insure more success to those who love this pastime, and to enable those who do not feel fully posted in all the technique of this science [does anyone ever feel "fully posted" about trout fishing?] - for science it is - to improve in skill, these lines are penned: not that the writer expects that everything here set down will be new to all, but in hopes that useful hints may be drawn from it by many, and that at least enough useful information will be gained to pay for the perusal... [nice, modest opening...I can't stand know-it-all fishing writers]
Very few are aware how many running brooks contain the fish, unknown to even the inhabitants of near towns or villages. In fact, it may be stated as quite literally true that this fish can be captured in almost any running water, the verdict of surrounding farmers of “no trout” to the contrary notwithstanding.... Too many fishermen, wishing good fortune, are apt to be led to fish certain streams known to the surrounding inhabitants, because everybody else fishes them, and years ago, as you will hear, such and such quantities were taken by so and so. [Same as it ever was...]Unless such water is well known to contain fish, I would advise the fisherman to pass it quietly by, and take the first mountain or hill-side brook that he meets of which no one seems to know anything, and try his luck there.[130 years later, an untarnished pearl of wisdom.] Scarcely any quick-running brook is without this fish, unless for two reasons - first, if it is well known and persistently fished; secondly, if it has a sawmill erected upon it, so that the sawdust flows into the stream, the latter in large quantities always driving out trout. Do not, I say, be afraid to try new brooks. The idea, also, that brooks can be completely fished out is, as a rule, erroneous....[If only that were so! Actually, I suppose it is--habitat degradation is more likely to empty a creek than heavy fishing pressure, as Frazar indicates with his reference to sawdust.]
To enjoy this sport thoroughly one must first make up one’s mind not to capture many fish beyond seven inches in length; the common and usual size will be about six inches.[Can you imagine a contemporary fishing writer saying this?] Do not despise small brooks....[Again..sage and timeless advice.]
And now let me try to inform you how to capture them without breaking your pole or losing your tackle or temper.[This man understood the hazards of angling.]
To be successful in this sport, first give up all idea of using artificial flies; there is usually no chance to cast them, and very few fish will rise to them, and then only, usually, at early morn or sunset.[Alas, even the astute Mr. Frazar wasn't "fully posted."] Use a light but very short jointed pole, not over twelve feet in length, with fine delicate running gear and small compact reel; small hooks, gauged upon silk-worm gut, of any make that one prefers, there being great diversity of opinion on this matter among fishermen.The Limerick hook has nearly gone out of date, and how it was endured so long is a mystery. The Kirby and Aberdeen have taken its place.[ Our petty quarrels over tackle have a long lineage. I doubt many fishermen have heard of any of those hook styles, except possibly the aberdeen. If true that brings into sharp relief the triviality of the great fast rod vs. slow rod or large arbor reel vs. standard arbor debates.]
Use, as the most killing bait yet discovered, angle-worms; and these may be much improved by being kept a few days upon clean moss in an uncovered, large-mouthed bottle, that they may scour themselves. [I never imagined that fishing with worms could be so hygenic.] In baiting, do not pay the slightest attention to whether the point of your hook is covered or not; it is of small consequence, or rather it is more deadly and better not to be covered than otherwise. The trout does not nibble, he darts; he takes, as a rule, the bait at once, or leaves it severely alone.[How well I know that severity.]
Of course you are aware that the morning and evening hours are the best for this sport, and a cloudy southerly day the best weather; but in well-stocked brooks these fish will feed all day long, and you can get a good day’s sport with almost always a nice wind-up as the sun goes down. ["a nice wind-up as the sun goes down" doesn't quite evoke the feeling of being on the water at sunset. But I'm sure Mr. Frazar would have known the feeling I mean. And I'm sure anglers reading him in any century would know it too, and perceive it between his lines.]
Tags: Fishing; Literature
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Cloud Creek Payoff
Somewhat against my better judgement, last night I made a run out to Cloud Creek, the small southern michigan stream where I sometimes go when no other trout prospect is on the horizon. (For those who are new around here, its real name is not Cloud Creek.) I first fished it two years ago with modest success, but got skunked on three outings there last year. After those discouraging results, and considering the diffficulty in wading--Cloud's bottom is clogged with brush and piles of slippery rocks--and of walking through the heavy (and thorny) brush along the banks, I doubted whether I would return. But last night I did, and though the stream's bed and banks slapped me around pretty soundly, that proved to be a wise choice.
Cloud Creek lived up to its psuedonym last night in more ways than one. Although it was sunny when I left home, dark clouds gathered on the drive to the stream. As soon as turned onto the road going to the bridge were I access the creek, rain began pelting my windshield. It subsided by the time I got to the stream, but after I had rigged up and got to the water, a downpour commenced. That actually lifted my spirits, since streamer fishing often improves during rainshowers. I went strikeless until I got to a long, deep run where the stream's banks pinch closely together, the spot which had produced best for me two years ago--meaning I caught a trout or two there on each outing. It obliged once again with a standard-issue Cloud Creek stocker, a brown trout of about 8" with sides shaded in coppery blue. I'm sorry I didn't have my camera along to document that fish, along with the anemones, honeysuckles, and nanberries in bloom. The creek's bottomlands became lovely in the apricot twilight that emerged once the rain had passed.
Pleased that Cloud Creek's trout wouldn't shut me out forever, I continued downstream to where the stread widens and acquires a much more even and wadable bottom. There, I actually had room for backcasts. At one of the first places I stopped in the wider water, I took two trout in two casts, and got a strike on the third. I switched to an olive WB after losing the black one on a high limb, and picked up a few more trout as I worked down. All came from near submereged logs or piles of brush. Following a roll cast to the edge of a long sweeper, I hooked my largest Cloud Creek brown to date. It was the first fish there that actually took line from me, and landing it was a challenge, since there was brush beneath and along both edges of the run where I hooked it. Eventually I did bring it to hand, where I sprung a tape and measured it at just shy of fourteen inches. Obviously some of those stocked fish survive over the summer to grow to nice sizes.
A short time later I marked another Cloud Creek first: a trout on a dry fly. Though I've seen nice flights of mayflies there before, I'd never seen any hit the water, nor had I seen any notable amount surface feeding by trout. I did see a couple of regular feeders by the bridge last spring, but I couldn't discern what they were eating, and they rejected all the flies I tried on them, shattering my faith in the naivete of stocked trout. Last night, there were a few March Browns on the wing, as well as fair numbers of small tan caddis fluttering about or dipping into the stream to lay eggs, but no feeders. At least until I got to a wide pool in one of the rare spots where the creek borders open high ground. There, I saw one regular riser near the top of the pool. I had begun to see a number of small black caddis on the wing, and figured those as the current appetizer of choice. These weren't the black caddis commonly seen earlier in may. They are a smaller, darker type that I know I've seen before, but never seemed to draw fish. I didn't have an exact match for them in my fly box, so I tied on one of the lighter, larger black caddis patterns I'd used on opening weekend. Second cast--wham! On the way in, the small but feisty brown made at least two water-clearing jumps, very unusual for his species. Once I'd let him go, I spied another rise a bit downstream. It did not repeat, and my drifts over where it had been drew no strike. Then just downstream I saw another rise that I moved down to fish with no better result. I watched the creek for five more minutes and saw nothing. I took that as my cue to call it a night.
Heading back upstream, I slipped on one of those rockpiles and fell into a hole that topped my waders. Not long thereafter, I suffered a sharp nerve pinch in my right foot (something liable to happen in wader boots when your foot lands in a strange position) that continued to sting all the way back to the car.
But while I ended it soggy and limping, this was my most successful Cloud Creek outing to date. I caught seven fish of at least legal size (though all were released), including one hefty holdover fish and one fish on top. Though I had nearly written off this stream, I might be drag myself out there another time or two this season.
Tags: Fishing; Flyfishing; Trout
Cloud Creek lived up to its psuedonym last night in more ways than one. Although it was sunny when I left home, dark clouds gathered on the drive to the stream. As soon as turned onto the road going to the bridge were I access the creek, rain began pelting my windshield. It subsided by the time I got to the stream, but after I had rigged up and got to the water, a downpour commenced. That actually lifted my spirits, since streamer fishing often improves during rainshowers. I went strikeless until I got to a long, deep run where the stream's banks pinch closely together, the spot which had produced best for me two years ago--meaning I caught a trout or two there on each outing. It obliged once again with a standard-issue Cloud Creek stocker, a brown trout of about 8" with sides shaded in coppery blue. I'm sorry I didn't have my camera along to document that fish, along with the anemones, honeysuckles, and nanberries in bloom. The creek's bottomlands became lovely in the apricot twilight that emerged once the rain had passed.
Pleased that Cloud Creek's trout wouldn't shut me out forever, I continued downstream to where the stread widens and acquires a much more even and wadable bottom. There, I actually had room for backcasts. At one of the first places I stopped in the wider water, I took two trout in two casts, and got a strike on the third. I switched to an olive WB after losing the black one on a high limb, and picked up a few more trout as I worked down. All came from near submereged logs or piles of brush. Following a roll cast to the edge of a long sweeper, I hooked my largest Cloud Creek brown to date. It was the first fish there that actually took line from me, and landing it was a challenge, since there was brush beneath and along both edges of the run where I hooked it. Eventually I did bring it to hand, where I sprung a tape and measured it at just shy of fourteen inches. Obviously some of those stocked fish survive over the summer to grow to nice sizes.
A short time later I marked another Cloud Creek first: a trout on a dry fly. Though I've seen nice flights of mayflies there before, I'd never seen any hit the water, nor had I seen any notable amount surface feeding by trout. I did see a couple of regular feeders by the bridge last spring, but I couldn't discern what they were eating, and they rejected all the flies I tried on them, shattering my faith in the naivete of stocked trout. Last night, there were a few March Browns on the wing, as well as fair numbers of small tan caddis fluttering about or dipping into the stream to lay eggs, but no feeders. At least until I got to a wide pool in one of the rare spots where the creek borders open high ground. There, I saw one regular riser near the top of the pool. I had begun to see a number of small black caddis on the wing, and figured those as the current appetizer of choice. These weren't the black caddis commonly seen earlier in may. They are a smaller, darker type that I know I've seen before, but never seemed to draw fish. I didn't have an exact match for them in my fly box, so I tied on one of the lighter, larger black caddis patterns I'd used on opening weekend. Second cast--wham! On the way in, the small but feisty brown made at least two water-clearing jumps, very unusual for his species. Once I'd let him go, I spied another rise a bit downstream. It did not repeat, and my drifts over where it had been drew no strike. Then just downstream I saw another rise that I moved down to fish with no better result. I watched the creek for five more minutes and saw nothing. I took that as my cue to call it a night.
Heading back upstream, I slipped on one of those rockpiles and fell into a hole that topped my waders. Not long thereafter, I suffered a sharp nerve pinch in my right foot (something liable to happen in wader boots when your foot lands in a strange position) that continued to sting all the way back to the car.
But while I ended it soggy and limping, this was my most successful Cloud Creek outing to date. I caught seven fish of at least legal size (though all were released), including one hefty holdover fish and one fish on top. Though I had nearly written off this stream, I might be drag myself out there another time or two this season.
Tags: Fishing; Flyfishing; Trout
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
When Whitetails Wear Black Hats
In most places, signs of spring inspire feelings of hope and renewal. On an Illinois college campus, some of them, at least, stir up memories of seven shocking attacks that took place there a year ago, along with fears that this violent history will repeat itself.
A young woman who survived one of last year's attacks recounted her ordeal for the AP.
While walking through Thompson Woods on the Southern Illinois Univesity campus, Tammy Emery...a secretary in the political science department...heard a rustling and saw ''this deer was headed right toward me, full charge." Emery never saw any fawn, only the adult deer with eyes wide.
''I could tell it was angry, but I wasn't sure what about," she said. ''I know by the time I was in the area she was really mad and going to take it all out on me. I couldn't have run if I tried."
In an instant, the deer knocked the woman to the ground and delivered a flurry of kicks. Emery, screaming, curled into a ball as the snorting animal rained blows on her, slicing open one of her ears and leaving her with huge bruises and a hoof print on her hand....Emery has not been back in that stretch of the woods since.
At least three other victims were injured seriously enough to require hospitalization. SIU officials believe the attacks were the work of more than one suspect.
According to Clay Nelson, a wildlife ecologist at SIU, the does that attacked Emery and others were acting in defense of their fawns. Nelson said that in some cases, victims actually tried to pet fawns.
Since the attackers remain at large, and may in fact have multiplied, the university is taking aggressive measiures to protect members of its community.
[W]ith fawning season nearing its peak -- last year's attacks happened between June 7 and 15 -- Nielsen and other campus officials are using signs, radio spots, e-mails, and fliers about the deer in Thompson Woods. Later this month, Nielsen will lead a seminar titled ''Avoiding Deer-Human Encounters of the Third Kind on Campus."
This is not the kind of public safety issue campuses often deal with, at least in my experience, but it may become a more common one, with green space elsewhere diminishing, and many campuses hosting arboreta or wooded recreational lands that offer cover for wildlife. At SIU, Nelson acknowledged that one reason for increasing human-cervid friction on campus is "the clearing of trees and windbreaks around the campus's edges [that] has forced the animals into Thompson Woods, which is 20 or so acres with hundreds of yards of paved trails."
But these incidents raise concerns beyond biology and groundskeeping which are actually close to matters that have preocccupied universities in recent years. Specifically, they broach questions of inclusion and institutional identity. Deer now seem to be a part of the SIU community that cannot now be disregarded. How far must the university go to accomodate this ecologically disadvantaged population now knocking (stamping?) at its gates? As institutions of higher learning strive to adapt to sweeping economic and social changes, and to new demands from the (human) populations they serve, to what extent ought they also incorporate wildlife preservation, other than as a scientific discipline, into their missions? Also, this seems another case where universities become receptacles for things which the rest of the world discards: Marxism, for instance.
I'm less than half joking. As a student of environmental humanities, I'm intrigued by wildlife taking a formidable and non-prescribed role on a university campus. Being occasionally in a position where an animal could harm me, I do have sympathy for the victims of these attacks. If a doe were stomping me, I'm not sure I'd defend myself any more successfully than Ms. Emery. But as disturbing as they are, the events remind us that the usual campus business of learning, teaching, and career-chasing takes place in a larger ecology that is not fenced or climate controlled, or concerned about its US News & World Report ranking. I often suspect that if human occupations commonly went forward with awareness of this larger context, we'd avoid many of the environmental conflicts we wrestle with today--the market economy is not the only aspect of the outside world to which academia remains relatively indifferent. In short, this is what we in the biz like call a teachable moment. It would be disappointing to see the deer attacks provoke SIU to reaction only, and not reflection.
Tags: Nature; Academia
A young woman who survived one of last year's attacks recounted her ordeal for the AP.
While walking through Thompson Woods on the Southern Illinois Univesity campus, Tammy Emery...a secretary in the political science department...heard a rustling and saw ''this deer was headed right toward me, full charge." Emery never saw any fawn, only the adult deer with eyes wide.
''I could tell it was angry, but I wasn't sure what about," she said. ''I know by the time I was in the area she was really mad and going to take it all out on me. I couldn't have run if I tried."
In an instant, the deer knocked the woman to the ground and delivered a flurry of kicks. Emery, screaming, curled into a ball as the snorting animal rained blows on her, slicing open one of her ears and leaving her with huge bruises and a hoof print on her hand....Emery has not been back in that stretch of the woods since.
At least three other victims were injured seriously enough to require hospitalization. SIU officials believe the attacks were the work of more than one suspect.
According to Clay Nelson, a wildlife ecologist at SIU, the does that attacked Emery and others were acting in defense of their fawns. Nelson said that in some cases, victims actually tried to pet fawns.
Since the attackers remain at large, and may in fact have multiplied, the university is taking aggressive measiures to protect members of its community.
[W]ith fawning season nearing its peak -- last year's attacks happened between June 7 and 15 -- Nielsen and other campus officials are using signs, radio spots, e-mails, and fliers about the deer in Thompson Woods. Later this month, Nielsen will lead a seminar titled ''Avoiding Deer-Human Encounters of the Third Kind on Campus."
This is not the kind of public safety issue campuses often deal with, at least in my experience, but it may become a more common one, with green space elsewhere diminishing, and many campuses hosting arboreta or wooded recreational lands that offer cover for wildlife. At SIU, Nelson acknowledged that one reason for increasing human-cervid friction on campus is "the clearing of trees and windbreaks around the campus's edges [that] has forced the animals into Thompson Woods, which is 20 or so acres with hundreds of yards of paved trails."
But these incidents raise concerns beyond biology and groundskeeping which are actually close to matters that have preocccupied universities in recent years. Specifically, they broach questions of inclusion and institutional identity. Deer now seem to be a part of the SIU community that cannot now be disregarded. How far must the university go to accomodate this ecologically disadvantaged population now knocking (stamping?) at its gates? As institutions of higher learning strive to adapt to sweeping economic and social changes, and to new demands from the (human) populations they serve, to what extent ought they also incorporate wildlife preservation, other than as a scientific discipline, into their missions? Also, this seems another case where universities become receptacles for things which the rest of the world discards: Marxism, for instance.
I'm less than half joking. As a student of environmental humanities, I'm intrigued by wildlife taking a formidable and non-prescribed role on a university campus. Being occasionally in a position where an animal could harm me, I do have sympathy for the victims of these attacks. If a doe were stomping me, I'm not sure I'd defend myself any more successfully than Ms. Emery. But as disturbing as they are, the events remind us that the usual campus business of learning, teaching, and career-chasing takes place in a larger ecology that is not fenced or climate controlled, or concerned about its US News & World Report ranking. I often suspect that if human occupations commonly went forward with awareness of this larger context, we'd avoid many of the environmental conflicts we wrestle with today--the market economy is not the only aspect of the outside world to which academia remains relatively indifferent. In short, this is what we in the biz like call a teachable moment. It would be disappointing to see the deer attacks provoke SIU to reaction only, and not reflection.
Tags: Nature; Academia
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Gas & Soil
Yesterday Kristine and I were cleaning out our basement when she smelled a gas leak. Turn out the seams between pipes fitted not-so-long ago when we got a new furnace are loosening up, and the pipe dope is wearing out. The gas company man we had out yesterday said it had probably been that way for long time. Yikes.
Soon we'll have a repairman out, at Sunday rates, to seal the pipes up. That's the downer part of the weekend.
On the up side, we finally hung doors in the basement closets we started building three years ago. I also got a lot of trimming and pruning finished around the yard, and resumed my war on sweet clover out in the native plant meadow.
I'll continue that campaign today, along with planting pumpkin seeds and sunflower plants. Fitting, I guess, as today is the 6th Sunday of Easter, also known as Rogation Sunday. On this day, blessings on land, seeds, plants, and labor in the earth are asked. Obviously this was a more momentous occasion when many people made their living through agriculture. Today, at least in many congregations, it likely serves to highlight a sacramental dimension in a leisure activity. Which, I think, is still a worthy purpose.
Considered in the context of this, my gardening activities provoke some questions. If the produce of the land is a blessing, why should I feel so compelled to rip up creeping charlie, sweet clover, or chickweed? What is particularly blessed about imposing my agenda on the fragment of earth along my back fence? In a way, I may not be so different from people who wish their yards to consist of unadulterated Kentucky bluegrass, even if they're seperated from Kentucky by a long plane ride. I could say in my defense that creeping charlie is not native to this continent--but then, neither is my family. I could say these species diminsh the beauty of my garden, but that's purely subjective, and might well be countered with the observation that creeping charlie and chickweed have documented medicinal value.
I don't actually have moral, aesthetic, or spiritual reservations about weeding. Establishing my meadow is simply one reasonable option among many that I might choose for managing that part of my yard. I won't say that it's morally superior to other options, but I'd like to think it does serve a kind of sacred purpose in that it returns to the view of anyone who sees it a measure of the diversity this part of creation once had. It whispers, there is more to this place than you're apt to see or think.
Or might anway, with a few more years of cultivation.
Speaking of things religious, this morning our rector quoted both Kurt Cobain and Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection in her sermon. I think this must represent some milestone in postmodern homiletics.
Tags: Housekeeping; Gardening; Spirituality
Soon we'll have a repairman out, at Sunday rates, to seal the pipes up. That's the downer part of the weekend.
On the up side, we finally hung doors in the basement closets we started building three years ago. I also got a lot of trimming and pruning finished around the yard, and resumed my war on sweet clover out in the native plant meadow.
I'll continue that campaign today, along with planting pumpkin seeds and sunflower plants. Fitting, I guess, as today is the 6th Sunday of Easter, also known as Rogation Sunday. On this day, blessings on land, seeds, plants, and labor in the earth are asked. Obviously this was a more momentous occasion when many people made their living through agriculture. Today, at least in many congregations, it likely serves to highlight a sacramental dimension in a leisure activity. Which, I think, is still a worthy purpose.
Considered in the context of this, my gardening activities provoke some questions. If the produce of the land is a blessing, why should I feel so compelled to rip up creeping charlie, sweet clover, or chickweed? What is particularly blessed about imposing my agenda on the fragment of earth along my back fence? In a way, I may not be so different from people who wish their yards to consist of unadulterated Kentucky bluegrass, even if they're seperated from Kentucky by a long plane ride. I could say in my defense that creeping charlie is not native to this continent--but then, neither is my family. I could say these species diminsh the beauty of my garden, but that's purely subjective, and might well be countered with the observation that creeping charlie and chickweed have documented medicinal value.
I don't actually have moral, aesthetic, or spiritual reservations about weeding. Establishing my meadow is simply one reasonable option among many that I might choose for managing that part of my yard. I won't say that it's morally superior to other options, but I'd like to think it does serve a kind of sacred purpose in that it returns to the view of anyone who sees it a measure of the diversity this part of creation once had. It whispers, there is more to this place than you're apt to see or think.
Or might anway, with a few more years of cultivation.
Speaking of things religious, this morning our rector quoted both Kurt Cobain and Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection in her sermon. I think this must represent some milestone in postmodern homiletics.
Tags: Housekeeping; Gardening; Spirituality
Thursday, May 18, 2006
A Fine Mess
Tuesday night my dad came east for another go at walleyes on the Detroit River. We did much better this time than a couple of weeks ago, 8 fish between about 5 and 10 PM. All were over the 15" size limit, and I caught the two largest which were over 20. Most came early or at the very end of the night. This may not be much to brag about, seeing as DR regulars frequently take limits in less time (we were two fish shy of ours), but for us, this was practically the night of a lifetime, at least where walleye are concerned. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me.
In spite of the fishing and a pleasant night with my dad, I was a little dispirited on the ride home. There were no facilities at the launch to clean fish, which meant I would have to take care of mine after I got home sometime around midnight. I don't see fileting a bunch of slimy walleye in the wee hours of the morning as an ideal way to close the day. But the chore took less than an hour, and by the end, if I didn't actually enjoy the task, I did appreciate it.
Once at home, I rounded up my equipment with grim determination and set up shop on my back deck. I put down several layers of newspapers, set my filet board on top of them, then laid out plastic bags for filets and offal. I turned on water to the garden hose coiled on its reel next to the deck and got to work.
I was in too much of a rush to put on a coat before I got started, and as I began cutting, I could see my breath. Still, I wasn't uncomfortably cold. Rain began (or rather, resumed) falling lightly around the time I finished my first fish. But I wasn't getting soaked, and I didn't think it was worth the trouble to get my raincoat out of the car. (The cooler of fish was in fact the only thing I'd unpacked). The chill and the damp actually felt pleasant in a way they might not have any other situation.
Blossoms on honeysuckles opened late last week, and I caught a whiff of their fragrance from time to time. Frogs trilled in the nearby woods. As I plied the fish, scales rasped against my hands, and bones pricked my fingers. I sprayed down each clean, pink filet with water, noticing that more blood was visible on those from the fish that had a lamphrey scar on it.
I noted appreciatively the toughness of the walleyes' skin. Cutting skin from the back of a trout filet requires a careful touch, since their skin is delicate and one careless or too forceful slip of the blade can cut through it, severing a part of the filet prematurely and making it difficult to start a good, clean cut on the rest of it. You can lose a good deal of meat when that happens. With walleye, you can put more muscle into the job, shearing the knife quickly along the edge of the skin.
Not being very dexterious, I take pleasure in succeeding at small but necessary manual chores. It felt even more satisfying doing so in the situation of the other night. The weather was not punishing, but not something I could put out of mind. Signs of spring life suffused the air, penentrating even my closest concentration on the fish. I was preparing a harvest from (arguably) the wild that would give us several good meals--and the sooner I tended to that harvest, the better the meals would be. When I came home, I had grumbled about having to perform a messy chore at a time I should have been going to bed, but my sense of timeliness changed as I worked. As much as catching the fish, cleaning them was an experience of doing the right thing at the right time, and being aware in as many ways as I could of what the time was.
Tag: Fishing
In spite of the fishing and a pleasant night with my dad, I was a little dispirited on the ride home. There were no facilities at the launch to clean fish, which meant I would have to take care of mine after I got home sometime around midnight. I don't see fileting a bunch of slimy walleye in the wee hours of the morning as an ideal way to close the day. But the chore took less than an hour, and by the end, if I didn't actually enjoy the task, I did appreciate it.
Once at home, I rounded up my equipment with grim determination and set up shop on my back deck. I put down several layers of newspapers, set my filet board on top of them, then laid out plastic bags for filets and offal. I turned on water to the garden hose coiled on its reel next to the deck and got to work.
I was in too much of a rush to put on a coat before I got started, and as I began cutting, I could see my breath. Still, I wasn't uncomfortably cold. Rain began (or rather, resumed) falling lightly around the time I finished my first fish. But I wasn't getting soaked, and I didn't think it was worth the trouble to get my raincoat out of the car. (The cooler of fish was in fact the only thing I'd unpacked). The chill and the damp actually felt pleasant in a way they might not have any other situation.
Blossoms on honeysuckles opened late last week, and I caught a whiff of their fragrance from time to time. Frogs trilled in the nearby woods. As I plied the fish, scales rasped against my hands, and bones pricked my fingers. I sprayed down each clean, pink filet with water, noticing that more blood was visible on those from the fish that had a lamphrey scar on it.
I noted appreciatively the toughness of the walleyes' skin. Cutting skin from the back of a trout filet requires a careful touch, since their skin is delicate and one careless or too forceful slip of the blade can cut through it, severing a part of the filet prematurely and making it difficult to start a good, clean cut on the rest of it. You can lose a good deal of meat when that happens. With walleye, you can put more muscle into the job, shearing the knife quickly along the edge of the skin.
Not being very dexterious, I take pleasure in succeeding at small but necessary manual chores. It felt even more satisfying doing so in the situation of the other night. The weather was not punishing, but not something I could put out of mind. Signs of spring life suffused the air, penentrating even my closest concentration on the fish. I was preparing a harvest from (arguably) the wild that would give us several good meals--and the sooner I tended to that harvest, the better the meals would be. When I came home, I had grumbled about having to perform a messy chore at a time I should have been going to bed, but my sense of timeliness changed as I worked. As much as catching the fish, cleaning them was an experience of doing the right thing at the right time, and being aware in as many ways as I could of what the time was.
Tag: Fishing
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Simple Question
Is it ever going to stop raining?
My dad and I are hitting the Detroit River again tonight. A halt to precipitation anytime prior to that would be nice.
Tag: Whining
My dad and I are hitting the Detroit River again tonight. A halt to precipitation anytime prior to that would be nice.
Tag: Whining
Friday, May 12, 2006
Sulfuric Poker
Last night I attended the Michigan League of Conservation Voters workshop on submitting comments about Kennecott Minerals' application to operate a sulfide ore mine along the Salmon Trout river in Upper Michigan. Very interesting, especially the background offered about Michigan's new rules on sulfide ore mining came to be. Listening to the history of those rules, and to the plans of various citizens' groups to ensure their enforcement, I got the sense that I'd walked into a tense game of U.P. Hold 'Em, each side betting up the pot to compel the other (along with some players not yet seated) to fold and leave the table. In the pot? For one side, as much as $10 billion worth of nickel. For the other, the largest unpaved and unelectrified area in the Midwest.
THE FLOP
When the sulfide ore mining rules were finalized last winter, all sides agreed that they were the most stringent in the nation. They set high standards for protecting the land and water while mining occurs, and require mine operators to take extensive action to restore the mine site to pre-disturbance condition once mining ends, right down to the reestablishment of native plant species. These standards came about not so much over the opposition of Kennecott as with its consent. Environmental and community activists played up the high ecological, wilderness, and tourism values of the mine location, and Kennecott gladly tossed in enough chips to see that bet. One of the best-capitalized mining companies in the world, Kennecott, supported tough regulations in hopes of discouraging smaller, less flush companies from getting into the game. There currently are a number of locations around the U.P. drawing interest as sites for mining copper, nickel, zinc, gold, and other metals from sulfide ores.
So in this case, cutthroat capitalism and ecological concern joined forces to produce apparently strong and certainly innovative environmental protections. Michigan's sulfide ore mining laws are unique in that that operate on what environmental ethicists call the precautionary principle. This means that preventing harm to the environment, rather than minimizing risk from harms done to it, will be the primary consideration when reviewing applications for extraction, development, and other activities that will disturb landscapes. Under a precautionary approach, the burden of proof lies on the party proposing the disturbance. That party must be able to demonstrate that their action will not irreparably damage land, water, and wildlife, or harm human health. Typically, under what is known as a risk assessment approach, those who wish to stop a disturbance must demonstrate that it will cause harm above and beyond established acceptable levels of risk. Risk assessment has usually placed advocates of environmental protection at a disadvantage. Now they hold a wild card that may force Kennecott and other companies to ante up more to ensure that their operations run safely.
THE TURN
The former director of the local Sierra Club Chapter, who participated in negotiations over the mining rules, said that it felt good, yet very strange, to stand in front of a Michigan Department of Environmental Quality panel with a Kennecott official in full agreement over the proposed rules. As the next round of play unfolds, that concord seems to be unravelling.
After the rules were in place, Kennecott filed a mining application with the DEQ. This application outlined the procedures Kennecott would follow to extract ore and guard against pollution from the mine. Upon review, the application appears wanting. While Kennecott states that it will take steps to prevent pollution, it often doesn't state what these steps will be, or show that they will prevent harms from occurring. For instance:
* Kennecott plans to mine from the bottom to the top of the deposit. The planned ceiling of the mine will be 150' directly below the Salmon Trout river. How does Kennecott know that this will not cause "subsidence" of the river into the mine? They don't. They plan to test the strength of overhead bedrock as they go. Does this mean it is impossible for them to determine how far up they can mine without endangering the river? Of course not. But under a precautionary standard, Kennecott must demonstrate in advance that the mine will not threaten the river running overhead.
*In the application, Kennecott states that it "intends" to design a leakproof system for disposing of mine runoff. No specifics for this system are offered, and consequently, there is no way of determining how leakproof it might be. Again, the burden of proof for non-impairment of the site is not met.
*The mining rules require that applicants must assess impacts to fish, wildlife, plants, and human activity. Kennecott's application gives insufficient attention to these resources to determine that mining would not irreparably harm them. According to last night's presentation, Kennecott's evaluation of local plant life is based on a single day of observation, and this when representatives of the company have been on the site for five years. The application does not include any special consideration of the Coaster brook trout population, which are among the main reasons for concern about this mine.
So in a sense, Kennecott is bluffing, offering a semblance of compliance without holding the cards that would make that compliance genuine. Between now and the end of the public comment period on May 16th, those concerned about the mine will be working to call that bluff, and under the precautionary standard, it's really not that hard, even for environmental lay people like me. All one needs to do is look through the Environmental Impact Assessment filed with the application for items that do not clearly demonstrate that actions taken will cause environmental harms. No drainage system specified? Deny the permit until we see an effective one is proposed. No method for determining the minimal area to be affected by the mine? No mine until there is one! One needn't say what has to be done, only point out what isn't being done. The idea is to keep bidding up the pot, raising the environmental bar Kennecot must meet to go ahead with this mine. It's possible Kennecott might ultimately fold on the Salmon Trout mine and move on to other opportunities, though in the long run, a better outcome might be the development of a low impact mining practice. People are going to seek and get these resources--something needs to be done to be sure there is something left in the aftermath.
And yes, this is where I ask something of you. I don't want to guilt or badger anyone into this, but if you have an hour this weekend, glance through the EIA for this application and identify one or two areas where definite protections for the environment are not specified, then send off an email to wilsonse@michigan.gov identifying these and requesting denial of the application as written based on these. Keep it short, sweet, and to the point.
PDF files of Kennecott's application documents are found here. All you need to look at is the EIA linked at the top of the page. That itself is a long document, but you can manage it by scanning the TOC for an area that may be of special interest to you, scrutinizing the proposals, and citing a shortcoming. If you have questions, contact the Michigan Environmental Council @ 517-487-9539 or by email @ mec.voyager.net.
What happens next? After the 16th, the DEQ will review the application and the comments on it, then, probably by the end of this summer, announce a proposed approval or denial of the application, at which time there will be another round of commenting before a final approval or denial is given. If a mining permit is ultimately denied, another application is sure to be filed, and the process will begin again. Given Kennecott's deep pockets and the size of its potential payoff, this game could go on a long time.
But in this round, there is still one card to deal.
THE RIVER
The Salmon Trout river is the spawning ground for the last population of coaster brook trout along the US shoreline of the Great Lakes. This population consists of about 200 fish that do not interbreed with any other trout and have distinctly shaped, powerful bodies that allow them to chase prey in open water. They weigh anywhere from two to more than ten pounds, whereas stream-dwelling brookies in Michigan rarely grow to one pound.
When the coasters enter the Salmon Trout, they swim though some of the clearest waters in the United States. One method scientists use to measure water turbidity is to clock to the time that an electrical charge takes to jump between two electrodes in the water. The more sediment and other impurities the water contains, the more conductive it is. When testing the Salmon Trout, the technicians had to throw sand into the river to make the current pass between electrodes! This is as clean as water gets.
That water, and the fish it sustains, are parts of the heritage of this region whose loss would notably diminish it--and, I think, us. Without those, the great lakes basin becomes a little less unique, a little less, period. Maintaining those furthers what I see as the most fundamental form of homeland security.
What happens in this case may determine what happens with sulfide mining claims across the country. A lot of eyes are watching this case. If you can do nothing else about the Salmon Trout mine, please add yours.
Tags: Conservation; Michigan; Trout
THE FLOP
When the sulfide ore mining rules were finalized last winter, all sides agreed that they were the most stringent in the nation. They set high standards for protecting the land and water while mining occurs, and require mine operators to take extensive action to restore the mine site to pre-disturbance condition once mining ends, right down to the reestablishment of native plant species. These standards came about not so much over the opposition of Kennecott as with its consent. Environmental and community activists played up the high ecological, wilderness, and tourism values of the mine location, and Kennecott gladly tossed in enough chips to see that bet. One of the best-capitalized mining companies in the world, Kennecott, supported tough regulations in hopes of discouraging smaller, less flush companies from getting into the game. There currently are a number of locations around the U.P. drawing interest as sites for mining copper, nickel, zinc, gold, and other metals from sulfide ores.
So in this case, cutthroat capitalism and ecological concern joined forces to produce apparently strong and certainly innovative environmental protections. Michigan's sulfide ore mining laws are unique in that that operate on what environmental ethicists call the precautionary principle. This means that preventing harm to the environment, rather than minimizing risk from harms done to it, will be the primary consideration when reviewing applications for extraction, development, and other activities that will disturb landscapes. Under a precautionary approach, the burden of proof lies on the party proposing the disturbance. That party must be able to demonstrate that their action will not irreparably damage land, water, and wildlife, or harm human health. Typically, under what is known as a risk assessment approach, those who wish to stop a disturbance must demonstrate that it will cause harm above and beyond established acceptable levels of risk. Risk assessment has usually placed advocates of environmental protection at a disadvantage. Now they hold a wild card that may force Kennecott and other companies to ante up more to ensure that their operations run safely.
THE TURN
The former director of the local Sierra Club Chapter, who participated in negotiations over the mining rules, said that it felt good, yet very strange, to stand in front of a Michigan Department of Environmental Quality panel with a Kennecott official in full agreement over the proposed rules. As the next round of play unfolds, that concord seems to be unravelling.
After the rules were in place, Kennecott filed a mining application with the DEQ. This application outlined the procedures Kennecott would follow to extract ore and guard against pollution from the mine. Upon review, the application appears wanting. While Kennecott states that it will take steps to prevent pollution, it often doesn't state what these steps will be, or show that they will prevent harms from occurring. For instance:
* Kennecott plans to mine from the bottom to the top of the deposit. The planned ceiling of the mine will be 150' directly below the Salmon Trout river. How does Kennecott know that this will not cause "subsidence" of the river into the mine? They don't. They plan to test the strength of overhead bedrock as they go. Does this mean it is impossible for them to determine how far up they can mine without endangering the river? Of course not. But under a precautionary standard, Kennecott must demonstrate in advance that the mine will not threaten the river running overhead.
*In the application, Kennecott states that it "intends" to design a leakproof system for disposing of mine runoff. No specifics for this system are offered, and consequently, there is no way of determining how leakproof it might be. Again, the burden of proof for non-impairment of the site is not met.
*The mining rules require that applicants must assess impacts to fish, wildlife, plants, and human activity. Kennecott's application gives insufficient attention to these resources to determine that mining would not irreparably harm them. According to last night's presentation, Kennecott's evaluation of local plant life is based on a single day of observation, and this when representatives of the company have been on the site for five years. The application does not include any special consideration of the Coaster brook trout population, which are among the main reasons for concern about this mine.
So in a sense, Kennecott is bluffing, offering a semblance of compliance without holding the cards that would make that compliance genuine. Between now and the end of the public comment period on May 16th, those concerned about the mine will be working to call that bluff, and under the precautionary standard, it's really not that hard, even for environmental lay people like me. All one needs to do is look through the Environmental Impact Assessment filed with the application for items that do not clearly demonstrate that actions taken will cause environmental harms. No drainage system specified? Deny the permit until we see an effective one is proposed. No method for determining the minimal area to be affected by the mine? No mine until there is one! One needn't say what has to be done, only point out what isn't being done. The idea is to keep bidding up the pot, raising the environmental bar Kennecot must meet to go ahead with this mine. It's possible Kennecott might ultimately fold on the Salmon Trout mine and move on to other opportunities, though in the long run, a better outcome might be the development of a low impact mining practice. People are going to seek and get these resources--something needs to be done to be sure there is something left in the aftermath.
And yes, this is where I ask something of you. I don't want to guilt or badger anyone into this, but if you have an hour this weekend, glance through the EIA for this application and identify one or two areas where definite protections for the environment are not specified, then send off an email to wilsonse@michigan.gov identifying these and requesting denial of the application as written based on these. Keep it short, sweet, and to the point.
PDF files of Kennecott's application documents are found here. All you need to look at is the EIA linked at the top of the page. That itself is a long document, but you can manage it by scanning the TOC for an area that may be of special interest to you, scrutinizing the proposals, and citing a shortcoming. If you have questions, contact the Michigan Environmental Council @ 517-487-9539 or by email @ mec.voyager.net.
What happens next? After the 16th, the DEQ will review the application and the comments on it, then, probably by the end of this summer, announce a proposed approval or denial of the application, at which time there will be another round of commenting before a final approval or denial is given. If a mining permit is ultimately denied, another application is sure to be filed, and the process will begin again. Given Kennecott's deep pockets and the size of its potential payoff, this game could go on a long time.
But in this round, there is still one card to deal.
THE RIVER
The Salmon Trout river is the spawning ground for the last population of coaster brook trout along the US shoreline of the Great Lakes. This population consists of about 200 fish that do not interbreed with any other trout and have distinctly shaped, powerful bodies that allow them to chase prey in open water. They weigh anywhere from two to more than ten pounds, whereas stream-dwelling brookies in Michigan rarely grow to one pound.
When the coasters enter the Salmon Trout, they swim though some of the clearest waters in the United States. One method scientists use to measure water turbidity is to clock to the time that an electrical charge takes to jump between two electrodes in the water. The more sediment and other impurities the water contains, the more conductive it is. When testing the Salmon Trout, the technicians had to throw sand into the river to make the current pass between electrodes! This is as clean as water gets.
That water, and the fish it sustains, are parts of the heritage of this region whose loss would notably diminish it--and, I think, us. Without those, the great lakes basin becomes a little less unique, a little less, period. Maintaining those furthers what I see as the most fundamental form of homeland security.
What happens in this case may determine what happens with sulfide mining claims across the country. A lot of eyes are watching this case. If you can do nothing else about the Salmon Trout mine, please add yours.
Tags: Conservation; Michigan; Trout
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Hot Stuff
Some folks over on Michigan-Sportsman.com have posted pics of the forest fire that dumped ashes on me while I fished on Sunday April 30th. Glad I wasn't any closer than I was.
********
With the semester done, it's office cleaning day, and I do believe I'll be making a full day of it. I still can't believe how much paper you can cram into an 8 X 10' room and still be able to walk in and out. If I smoked and got careless about it, I could start a fire in here that would be seen for miles.
********
With the semester done, it's office cleaning day, and I do believe I'll be making a full day of it. I still can't believe how much paper you can cram into an 8 X 10' room and still be able to walk in and out. If I smoked and got careless about it, I could start a fire in here that would be seen for miles.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Gratitude?
I don't know whether it's due to insecurity, cynicism, or an unfailing nose for hidden motives, but I often have a hard time taking compliments from my students at face value, especially at this time of the year. Pleas for a half-grade increase are inevitably accompanied by testimonies to my wisdom and helpfulness. I generally shake a generous amount to salt on those compliments, as I do those offered on the last day of class from students who are hanging between a higher and lower grade. But sometimes I react just as cautiously to praise from students who don't have anything to gain by it, whose grade is secure, possibly outstanding. My first thought is usually, what do they want?
Students in fact can be manipulative, and it's usually rather transparent when they are. But more often than not they are serious about their education, committed to doing the required work, later if not sooner, and appreciative of getting help when they need it. When compliments come from a student I've been working closely with, they seem genuine, and I am not skeptical about them. When they come out of the blue, I'm likely to see them as a problem.
Why should I do that? Even if students are merely flattering me, why should it matter? Though in exceptional circumstances I may offer a little grace unmerited, I give students the grades they earn, not the grades they plead for. Further, why should it matter if I am suspicious of compliments or not? If I'm in control of my material and getting the work done, how far should my feelings enter into my instruction?
The fact is, feelings will be a part of what I do in the classroom, and my unease with student compliments may point to a more basic feeling that could undermine what I do in the classroom daily. Does my doubts suggest a more general cynicism about students and teaching that serves to put distance between myself and my classes. That certainly would impair the connnection and hence communication I have with them.
I know I do feel that cynicism occasionally, and perhaps it operates as a self-fulfilling prophecy. As I begin preparing for next fall (an effort that will begin next week), it may not hurt to lighten up, and open up a bit.
Tag: Education
Students in fact can be manipulative, and it's usually rather transparent when they are. But more often than not they are serious about their education, committed to doing the required work, later if not sooner, and appreciative of getting help when they need it. When compliments come from a student I've been working closely with, they seem genuine, and I am not skeptical about them. When they come out of the blue, I'm likely to see them as a problem.
Why should I do that? Even if students are merely flattering me, why should it matter? Though in exceptional circumstances I may offer a little grace unmerited, I give students the grades they earn, not the grades they plead for. Further, why should it matter if I am suspicious of compliments or not? If I'm in control of my material and getting the work done, how far should my feelings enter into my instruction?
The fact is, feelings will be a part of what I do in the classroom, and my unease with student compliments may point to a more basic feeling that could undermine what I do in the classroom daily. Does my doubts suggest a more general cynicism about students and teaching that serves to put distance between myself and my classes. That certainly would impair the connnection and hence communication I have with them.
I know I do feel that cynicism occasionally, and perhaps it operates as a self-fulfilling prophecy. As I begin preparing for next fall (an effort that will begin next week), it may not hurt to lighten up, and open up a bit.
Tag: Education
Monday, May 08, 2006
May Flowers
Yesterday, Kristine and I returned to Marshall Park to see how the wildflowers were progressing. Most seem to be well along, and I am seeing many in places where I can't remember any. Some of these are showing up in burned areas, and perhaps only needed the overgrowth cleared away.
Trilliums may be the star attraction among spring wildflowers in Michigan. They aren't spectacular, but they are large, pretty, and not too difficult to find.
They seem to be peaking in Marshall right now, open, still mostly white, with a few begining to turn pink.
Jack in the Pulpits seemed to be everywhere. Soon these will develop blood red stripes along the hood of the flower, or "pulpit." This one is just starting to turn.
Blossoms on May Apples still had not opened. Most of the ones we saw sported large green buds, presaging the green "apples" they will form in a few weeks. There were also diffferent varieties of anemone, as well as a few dogwoods still in bloom. Hawthorne blossoms are starting to fade, while those on crabapple trees are peaking.
At this time of year, the woods are a feast for both the eyes and the nose.
Tags: Nature; Spring ; Wildflowers
Saturday, May 06, 2006
A Conservation Hero, and Your Chance to Be the Next
From the Bay City Times, 5/5/06:
Nearly two miles of one of Michigan's best trout streams will remain forever wild.
Anyone who can appreciate long stretches of riverbanks with nary a cabin or dock owes thanks to the owner of this land and the Headwaters Land Conservancy of Gaylord.
The landowner, Arnold Ochs of Traverse City, put a conservation easement on the two miles of the North Branch of the Au Sable River south of Lovells.
That's both banks of the river.
He's got a cabin on his 270 acres, and has reserved the right to build one more.
But the rest will remain wild.
In exchange for passing on the millions of dollars the land could be worth if subdivided for homes and cabins, Ochs will get a tax break.
In monetary terms, it's a lopsided trade.
But for the future of the wild riverbanks of a world-famous stretch of water, the deal is priceless.
Pause and appreciate what Ochs and others who have granted conservation easements have done.
They've looked into the future, and invested in it.
They see their land for many years to come just as they see it now.
Forever wild.
Mr. Ochs, FTR and a good portion of its readership thank you from the bottom of our collective hearts.
********************************
A while back, FTR bewailed the finalization of sulfide ore mining rules which would permit a mine to go into operation along the Salmon Trout river in Upper Michigan. Presently, Kennecot-Eagle minerals is applying for a permit to begin mining at the Salmon Trout site, and a public comment period on the application is underway through May 16th. The Michigan League of Conservation Voters and several other organizations are asking citizens to write to Governor Granholm and DEQ director Chester to urge that preserving water quality be the primary concern shaping the implementation of the rules and the issuing of the permit. While Michigan's new sulfide mining rules are among the most stringent on the books, many fear they still may be applied in a way that endangers the Salmon Trout, its remnant population of coaster brook trout, and wild environs along its banks.
It's not too late to prevent or at least minimize damage from the mine. The MLCV has a web page with further information on this issue and templates for letters to the Governor and DEQ director. If you're in the Ann Arbor area, on May 11 MLCV is hosting a workshop on how to engage effectively in the public commment process and take other actions related to the Salmon Trout mine. It will be held at 211 W. Liberty in the 2nd floor conference room from 7-9 PM. MLCV asks that you RSVP by calling (734) 222-9650 or by emailing brian@michiganlcv.org.
I plan to attend. Just look for the tall guy bristling with righteous eco-piscatorial outrage.
Tags: Conservation; Michigan;Fishing
Nearly two miles of one of Michigan's best trout streams will remain forever wild.
Anyone who can appreciate long stretches of riverbanks with nary a cabin or dock owes thanks to the owner of this land and the Headwaters Land Conservancy of Gaylord.
The landowner, Arnold Ochs of Traverse City, put a conservation easement on the two miles of the North Branch of the Au Sable River south of Lovells.
That's both banks of the river.
He's got a cabin on his 270 acres, and has reserved the right to build one more.
But the rest will remain wild.
In exchange for passing on the millions of dollars the land could be worth if subdivided for homes and cabins, Ochs will get a tax break.
In monetary terms, it's a lopsided trade.
But for the future of the wild riverbanks of a world-famous stretch of water, the deal is priceless.
Pause and appreciate what Ochs and others who have granted conservation easements have done.
They've looked into the future, and invested in it.
They see their land for many years to come just as they see it now.
Forever wild.
Mr. Ochs, FTR and a good portion of its readership thank you from the bottom of our collective hearts.
********************************
A while back, FTR bewailed the finalization of sulfide ore mining rules which would permit a mine to go into operation along the Salmon Trout river in Upper Michigan. Presently, Kennecot-Eagle minerals is applying for a permit to begin mining at the Salmon Trout site, and a public comment period on the application is underway through May 16th. The Michigan League of Conservation Voters and several other organizations are asking citizens to write to Governor Granholm and DEQ director Chester to urge that preserving water quality be the primary concern shaping the implementation of the rules and the issuing of the permit. While Michigan's new sulfide mining rules are among the most stringent on the books, many fear they still may be applied in a way that endangers the Salmon Trout, its remnant population of coaster brook trout, and wild environs along its banks.
It's not too late to prevent or at least minimize damage from the mine. The MLCV has a web page with further information on this issue and templates for letters to the Governor and DEQ director. If you're in the Ann Arbor area, on May 11 MLCV is hosting a workshop on how to engage effectively in the public commment process and take other actions related to the Salmon Trout mine. It will be held at 211 W. Liberty in the 2nd floor conference room from 7-9 PM. MLCV asks that you RSVP by calling (734) 222-9650 or by emailing brian@michiganlcv.org.
I plan to attend. Just look for the tall guy bristling with righteous eco-piscatorial outrage.
Tags: Conservation; Michigan;Fishing
Friday, May 05, 2006
Drifting the D
My father loves to fish for walleye, though he doesn't get many chances to do it. For the last few years, he's come somewhere over this way to meet me and go chase a few. For the last three years, we've hit the Detroit river, though we had yet to actually boat a walleye there. Having gotten a tip from a local tackle shop that the first week in May was the time to go, he called me about a week ago and proposed another outing. Being in the middle of finals week, I didn't have a lot of time to spare, but I figured if we're going to make the trip we might as well do it when it counts.
So I met him yesterday morning at a boat launch in Wyandotte and we set out onto the big,blue Detroit. The lauch we used was situated between a steel mill and a chemical plant, and there is comparable scenery along much of that part of the river. To the north you can see the Ambassador Bridge and the RenCen. It isn't quite the north branch Au Sable, but I find these environs curiously appealing. That broad (and surprisingly clear) river with a quiet but powerful current, pocked with scrubby, undeveloped islands, home to legions of fish and wheeling squadrons of gulls and terns, gives nature a formidable presence in this hyperindustrialized place.
Solitude certainly isn't part of the Detroit river fishing experience. Traffic passes constantly along Jefferson Avenue, train cars rumble in and out of the steel mill, freighters pass by further out in the river, and scores of other fishermen drift along beside you, at least sometimes. Fishermen will flock to whereever they've heard the latest hotspot is, and other fishermen will flock to where they see other fishermen. Early in the day, there must have been at least thirty other boats working the same drift as we were. Walleye fishing, at least on the Detroit, doesn't seem to be a sport for solitary explorer types. But not being very familiar with the water and having our own ideas about where to go, my dad and I played follow the leader too.
We didn't catch a coolerful, but my dad did land two nice walleye jigging a combination of artificial and real worms just off the bottom. The fish in the top picture is actually the largest walleye he has ever landed.
I only caught a few small white bass that I threw back. Still, I was happy my dad got some fish. And I enjoyed my day on the water. Even without a fly rod.
As we said goodbye at the end of the day, we got to wondering about what the fishing would be like if we went out in the afternoon and evening instead of the morning and early afternoon, as we usually do. It seemed like a question that demanded answers, so if our schedules give us an opening, we'll try that sometime next week.
Tags: Fishing ; Detroit
So I met him yesterday morning at a boat launch in Wyandotte and we set out onto the big,blue Detroit. The lauch we used was situated between a steel mill and a chemical plant, and there is comparable scenery along much of that part of the river. To the north you can see the Ambassador Bridge and the RenCen. It isn't quite the north branch Au Sable, but I find these environs curiously appealing. That broad (and surprisingly clear) river with a quiet but powerful current, pocked with scrubby, undeveloped islands, home to legions of fish and wheeling squadrons of gulls and terns, gives nature a formidable presence in this hyperindustrialized place.
Solitude certainly isn't part of the Detroit river fishing experience. Traffic passes constantly along Jefferson Avenue, train cars rumble in and out of the steel mill, freighters pass by further out in the river, and scores of other fishermen drift along beside you, at least sometimes. Fishermen will flock to whereever they've heard the latest hotspot is, and other fishermen will flock to where they see other fishermen. Early in the day, there must have been at least thirty other boats working the same drift as we were. Walleye fishing, at least on the Detroit, doesn't seem to be a sport for solitary explorer types. But not being very familiar with the water and having our own ideas about where to go, my dad and I played follow the leader too.
We didn't catch a coolerful, but my dad did land two nice walleye jigging a combination of artificial and real worms just off the bottom. The fish in the top picture is actually the largest walleye he has ever landed.
I only caught a few small white bass that I threw back. Still, I was happy my dad got some fish. And I enjoyed my day on the water. Even without a fly rod.
As we said goodbye at the end of the day, we got to wondering about what the fishing would be like if we went out in the afternoon and evening instead of the morning and early afternoon, as we usually do. It seemed like a question that demanded answers, so if our schedules give us an opening, we'll try that sometime next week.
Tags: Fishing ; Detroit
Monday, May 01, 2006
Opening Weekend Trip, 4/28-30
Friday morning I drove north to Grayling to get a jump on the trout opener on a stretch of the North Branch of the Au Sable that is open year-round. After stopping at Rusty Gates' place to buy a few caddis patterns and streamers, I continued on to the hamlet of Lovells and pitched camp at the origin of my nom-de-net.
I stayed here on the first fly fishing trip I ever took. The mythologies of some Native American groups tell of a "place of emergence" where the ancestors of their people crawled from some lower world into the present one. I think of Shupac Lake as my "place of emergence" as a fly fisher.
Shupac is a cool, clear lake popular with fishermen and with people who just pitch their tent next to it and hang around the campfire for a few days. It's one of the few lakes in lower Michigan with a breeding population of loons. Those birds staged some unnerving concerts in the wee hours of the morning this time.
Here's a shot taken on a cloudy Sunday morning.
Once I had my tent up, I munched a few handfuls of trail mix for lunch then headed down the road to the North Branch. Aside from the East Branch (which is really just a small creek), the North is probably the least celebrated part of the Au Sable system. I'll never know why.
I fished in the Twin Bridges area, and began by flicking a Mickey Finn streamer into deep pockets and close to brushy banks. A deep run below a riffle brought me my first trout of the season, a small but scrappy brook trout.
Nowhere to go but up, I guess. Unfortunately that was the only fish I got a decent photo of. It's going to take a while to learn the art of holding a fish in one hand while taking its photo with the other.
The Mickey caught a bigger brookie shortly thereafter and drew a few other strikes besides. There had been black caddis on the wing when I got to the river, but no fish feeding on them. Around 2:30 I noticed a few small fish rising and switched to a caddis in hopes the bigger ones would follow. That didn't happen, but around 3:30, Hendrickson duns started drifting by in ones or twos, and a few slightly better fish began to take them. The hatch was never very heavy, and it would fade out from time to time, as Hennies will. Not surprisingly, I never saw any regular feeders, but casting a dun over where a fish had risen brought me a several strikes and a couple of fish to hand. By 4 the Hennies were gone for good, but when I quite scanning the river's surface for them, I noticed a good flight of little Mahoganies underway. This is where the things got more interesting.
Though there were few bugs on the water, I caught another half dozen decent brookies drifting a mahogany dun over likely looking runs, and lost a few others. The action stopped around 5, though I flogged away for another hour. It had been a good day though, at least in my eyes. All the "better" fish I caught were somewhere around 10 inches, give or take an inch and a half. Nothing to brag about, but big enough to put a bend in the rod, and, on that river, smart enough not to jump at anything in their view that appears roughly edible. I'd be happy catching fish that size all day long.
Saturday and Sunday brought less in the fish department, though were interesting in other ways. Saturday morning, I hauled myself out into the 28˚ dawn to throw streamers at the log jams on the middle North Branch. This resulted in two browns the size of the largest brookies I'd caught Friday, and two other brief hookups. It isn't the best streamer water around, though I'm sure I'd have caught more if I hadn't had to clean ice from my rod every five casts. Saturday afternoon, I broke out the Meadowhawk and floated from Twin Bridges to Dam Four. I had always been curious about that water because it's a long stretch of river with no public access. I've waded nearly two miles up from Dam 4, and was curious to see more. What did I see? A lot of water pretty much like you'd see around Dam 4. No surprise, but at least I won't wonder about it anymore. Saw a very few fish rising to black caddis, and took three 8-10 inchers on a dry pattern, besides some dinks.
Sunday I slept in, then drove to the South Branch for a long float in the Meadowhawk. This was something of a misadventure. First, I gravely underestmated the time necessary for the trip. I ended up rowing hard and not fishing too much, though I did take a 13" brown on a black Wooly Bugger. i probably could have hung a few more trout on the streamer, but gathering swarms of Hendricksons overhead swayed me to tie on a dry pattern and drift along looking for rises. Unfortunately, I saw none, unless I missed them while keeping watch for log jams I would have to carry the boat over. When I reached the mainstream Au Sable, I entered a long, slack stretch of river where I had to row hard to make any progress at all. Adding to the problem was a strong headwind, which was actually kicking up whitecaps on the river. I rowed nearly an hour through this before making it to a swift section of the river, which still took me about 40 minutes to navigate. And when I did get to the landing...my car was not there. Apparently my spotter had neglected to drive it around. I'm glad he doesn't require payment in advance. I'm even more glad that when I beached my boat, a fisherman had just pulled to look over the water, and he consented to drive me to where I'd put in. A thousand, thousand blessings on his head.
So Sunday gave me a little more drama than I like to see in a fishing trip, but I was unaware of a greater drama unfolding around me, despite its literally showering me with clues. I smelled smoke almost continuously while floating the lower half South Branch. Was every cabin owner in the woods using their fireplace, i wondered? After about 4, I saw flakes of what looked like ashes sifting down on me like snow. Not pouring down, but falling steadily, and there was certainly no doubt as to what it was. It was curious, but concerned with getting off the water before dark, I didn't bother to put two and two together. The gentleman who picked me up at the landing told me about there was a forest fire nearby, and as we drove out to the river bottom, I could see an enormous smoke plume billowing up to the southeast. The police had several roads heading in that direction closed off--including one I had planned to use as a shortcut back to the interstate. I drove back to Grayling, passing through heavy smoke most of the way. It was hanging over the road and in the trees like a dense fog, and at points I was gagging a bit as I drove. It was eerie, and though also fascinating, as are most grave dangers unlikely to endanger you personally. As I drove, I couldn't think of much except getting clear of the smoke, forgetting even the usually strictly enforced speed limit on M-72. Later on, I remembered stories of animals that ignore predators, humans, and all sorts of ordinarily threatening things while fleeing from fire. I could relate. Hurtling along in a metal box at 70 MPH, enroute to another ivory tower workday, I was just another scared mammal in the woods.
This isn't the sort of "communion with nature" usually associated with a fishing getaway, though it could be a truer one than any we color with romantic tones, or pursue with hard-won spare time and pricey equiptment.
Tags: Fly Fishing; Trout; Fire
I stayed here on the first fly fishing trip I ever took. The mythologies of some Native American groups tell of a "place of emergence" where the ancestors of their people crawled from some lower world into the present one. I think of Shupac Lake as my "place of emergence" as a fly fisher.
Shupac is a cool, clear lake popular with fishermen and with people who just pitch their tent next to it and hang around the campfire for a few days. It's one of the few lakes in lower Michigan with a breeding population of loons. Those birds staged some unnerving concerts in the wee hours of the morning this time.
Here's a shot taken on a cloudy Sunday morning.
Once I had my tent up, I munched a few handfuls of trail mix for lunch then headed down the road to the North Branch. Aside from the East Branch (which is really just a small creek), the North is probably the least celebrated part of the Au Sable system. I'll never know why.
I fished in the Twin Bridges area, and began by flicking a Mickey Finn streamer into deep pockets and close to brushy banks. A deep run below a riffle brought me my first trout of the season, a small but scrappy brook trout.
Nowhere to go but up, I guess. Unfortunately that was the only fish I got a decent photo of. It's going to take a while to learn the art of holding a fish in one hand while taking its photo with the other.
The Mickey caught a bigger brookie shortly thereafter and drew a few other strikes besides. There had been black caddis on the wing when I got to the river, but no fish feeding on them. Around 2:30 I noticed a few small fish rising and switched to a caddis in hopes the bigger ones would follow. That didn't happen, but around 3:30, Hendrickson duns started drifting by in ones or twos, and a few slightly better fish began to take them. The hatch was never very heavy, and it would fade out from time to time, as Hennies will. Not surprisingly, I never saw any regular feeders, but casting a dun over where a fish had risen brought me a several strikes and a couple of fish to hand. By 4 the Hennies were gone for good, but when I quite scanning the river's surface for them, I noticed a good flight of little Mahoganies underway. This is where the things got more interesting.
Though there were few bugs on the water, I caught another half dozen decent brookies drifting a mahogany dun over likely looking runs, and lost a few others. The action stopped around 5, though I flogged away for another hour. It had been a good day though, at least in my eyes. All the "better" fish I caught were somewhere around 10 inches, give or take an inch and a half. Nothing to brag about, but big enough to put a bend in the rod, and, on that river, smart enough not to jump at anything in their view that appears roughly edible. I'd be happy catching fish that size all day long.
Saturday and Sunday brought less in the fish department, though were interesting in other ways. Saturday morning, I hauled myself out into the 28˚ dawn to throw streamers at the log jams on the middle North Branch. This resulted in two browns the size of the largest brookies I'd caught Friday, and two other brief hookups. It isn't the best streamer water around, though I'm sure I'd have caught more if I hadn't had to clean ice from my rod every five casts. Saturday afternoon, I broke out the Meadowhawk and floated from Twin Bridges to Dam Four. I had always been curious about that water because it's a long stretch of river with no public access. I've waded nearly two miles up from Dam 4, and was curious to see more. What did I see? A lot of water pretty much like you'd see around Dam 4. No surprise, but at least I won't wonder about it anymore. Saw a very few fish rising to black caddis, and took three 8-10 inchers on a dry pattern, besides some dinks.
Sunday I slept in, then drove to the South Branch for a long float in the Meadowhawk. This was something of a misadventure. First, I gravely underestmated the time necessary for the trip. I ended up rowing hard and not fishing too much, though I did take a 13" brown on a black Wooly Bugger. i probably could have hung a few more trout on the streamer, but gathering swarms of Hendricksons overhead swayed me to tie on a dry pattern and drift along looking for rises. Unfortunately, I saw none, unless I missed them while keeping watch for log jams I would have to carry the boat over. When I reached the mainstream Au Sable, I entered a long, slack stretch of river where I had to row hard to make any progress at all. Adding to the problem was a strong headwind, which was actually kicking up whitecaps on the river. I rowed nearly an hour through this before making it to a swift section of the river, which still took me about 40 minutes to navigate. And when I did get to the landing...my car was not there. Apparently my spotter had neglected to drive it around. I'm glad he doesn't require payment in advance. I'm even more glad that when I beached my boat, a fisherman had just pulled to look over the water, and he consented to drive me to where I'd put in. A thousand, thousand blessings on his head.
So Sunday gave me a little more drama than I like to see in a fishing trip, but I was unaware of a greater drama unfolding around me, despite its literally showering me with clues. I smelled smoke almost continuously while floating the lower half South Branch. Was every cabin owner in the woods using their fireplace, i wondered? After about 4, I saw flakes of what looked like ashes sifting down on me like snow. Not pouring down, but falling steadily, and there was certainly no doubt as to what it was. It was curious, but concerned with getting off the water before dark, I didn't bother to put two and two together. The gentleman who picked me up at the landing told me about there was a forest fire nearby, and as we drove out to the river bottom, I could see an enormous smoke plume billowing up to the southeast. The police had several roads heading in that direction closed off--including one I had planned to use as a shortcut back to the interstate. I drove back to Grayling, passing through heavy smoke most of the way. It was hanging over the road and in the trees like a dense fog, and at points I was gagging a bit as I drove. It was eerie, and though also fascinating, as are most grave dangers unlikely to endanger you personally. As I drove, I couldn't think of much except getting clear of the smoke, forgetting even the usually strictly enforced speed limit on M-72. Later on, I remembered stories of animals that ignore predators, humans, and all sorts of ordinarily threatening things while fleeing from fire. I could relate. Hurtling along in a metal box at 70 MPH, enroute to another ivory tower workday, I was just another scared mammal in the woods.
This isn't the sort of "communion with nature" usually associated with a fishing getaway, though it could be a truer one than any we color with romantic tones, or pursue with hard-won spare time and pricey equiptment.
Tags: Fly Fishing; Trout; Fire
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