Aside

A failure to see connections is really the largest culprit. Science is not a necessary component of this. Science has and continues to expand human understanding on certain levels, but not all. There is much room for the development of a custodial relationship with the world.  When the World becomes as a sacred artifact to be cherished, preserved, and handled with the utmost care…less it break to pieces, turn to sand and dust.

on dragonflies, a carcass, and beavers

There be beavers in Salt Creek.  He found evidence as he was ambling along this past Saturday.  Downed trees and stumps chewed to a fine and tapered point.  Another tree, still standing, which was a work in progress.  Where they make their home is anybody’s guess.  He didn’t see a lodge, but he didn’t spend a lot of time looking.  He was in a hurry to check up on the carcass of a deer he’d found lying by the edge of a small, green pond a couple weeks back.  When he’d first seen the animal it was still barely alive, though obviously down and not getting back up.  He had returned the next day to see if there were any buzzards, which there were not.

Returning after two weeks, he could smell the subtle undertones of rot as he neared.  Not too strong, and maybe even imperceptible if he hadn’t already known what was there.  There was a small trail that broke between the thick shrubs and brambles that surrounded the water hole, and the smell was there too, stronger, but not overwhelming.  He stood on the muddy bank where the receding water revealed the prints of the other deer and wildlife that drank there.  He stood, looked across, maybe 8 to 10 yards, and could see what was left.  not much.  The bones had been picked clean.  Funny, he thought, how bones don’t look like bones.  They were a reddish brown color, largely indistinguishable from the ground where they lay, scattered.  Again, if he hadn’t known they were there, he likely wouldn’t have seen them at all.

As he walked out of the woods, the sun was soon to set over the field, sinking behind the trees.  The field was filled with blooming yellow sunflowers and the sun shining through their petals.  Small insects and dragonflies were ascending, silhouettes and specks of light both cascading upwards to loop and hover, sway up and downwards again.  The dragonflies were feasting on the smaller, slower insects, dipping in rapid fire arcs, rising again to meet one another in midair for the briefest moment before resuming their flight.

The smaller insects’ wings were illuminated by the sun so that they appeared almost as glowing specks of dust, or fluff.  One rose up before him just as the dragonfly swooped in from somewhere off to the side, paused, with its back to the sun, four wings and segmented body framed and held static in the light, before continuing on, leaving only emptiness.

Notes from the Porkies: Part 1

To Deet, or not to Deet…is not really the question, but to suffer the nuisance of roving bands of mosquitoes, or dowse yourself in chemical repellants, is at least a matter for consideration.  Actually, it’s an absolute imperative, and walking into the first leg of our three day adventure into Michigan’s Porcupine Mountain Wilderness State Park, my philosophical musings as to the nature of this trip evaporate, and I am immediately reminded of the fact that philosophy is a leisurely sport, and that all this nature business is maybe not all it’s cracked up to be.

We envision, some of us anyways, a return to nature; or nature as a place of refuge, a place for solace, away from the frenetic pace and the technocratic grind.  Away from the traffic, smart phones, passwords, slow servers, political newsfeeds – somewhere off the grid, if only for a short while.  Natural settings relax us, they say, make us feel better about things; less hyperactive, more focused.  And though that may be the case, and indeed I believe it to be true, never do you hear mention of the mosquitoes.

So yes, my wife and I, with our tiny, yet capable, rat terrier Lucy, enter Deetless into the woods, and the mosquitoes are relentless.  Within seconds, a cohort of representatives from each of the 60 different species residing in Michigan announce themselves, in unison, to our eyes, ears, arms, and through our clothing.  Needless to say: Deet application promptly ensues, and it then goes like this: hiking along, watching your step, pack on your back, incessant whine in your ears – swat! – and then, silence.

The high pitched scree of mosquito wings beating 400 to 600 times per second in my ears is maddening.  I have learned that male and female mosquitoes modulate their wingbeats to create in-flight harmonies during copulation, which is mysterious and wild, but I can not abide by the music of mosquito love.  This being said, what happens when you swat them away creates a contrast of experience that seems significant, yet unnameable.

The silence opens, and there is the sound of the forest.  The rustle of chipmunks and small red squirrels as they scurry about the forest floor; what is perhaps a Fowlers toad hopping through the leaves; thrushes, warblers, cardinals, and the occasional knock and rhythm of maybe a Pileated woodpecker, pounding upon a bleached and hollowed oak, flow into the auditory space once occupied by the mosquitoes.

It doesn’t take long for the whining to begin again, gradually at first, building towards another exasperating crescendo, but during this brief reprieve, the purpose of this excursion begins to reveal itself.

finding time at Willow Springs Woods

8/21

Into the woods with the family.  Willow Springs Woods in South Cook County.  First time here, and I’m learning that it’s important to go and scope these places out ahead of time, or else you find yourself wandering aimlessly trying to decide on a place to sit.

Which was what happened my first morning at Salt Creek Woods.  I had parked the car at Bemis Woods, pulled the bike off the rack, and after riding about 7 minutes West on the paved trail, pulled off onto an unpaved path that I had seen a few days earlier.  On that morning, I rode a short ways farther before tethering my bike to a tree and continuing on foot.  All told, I probably spent a good hour tripping over hidden branches and pushing through briars, sitting here and there, before finally walking out in a field and coming across the small cluster of oak trees where I have spent several mornings since.

So, this initial reconnaissance tends to increase the “demands” of the project somewhat, in that there are now pre-excursions before the actual “sitting”.  This sounds absurd, and whether sitting, standing, or hiking, there shouldn’t be anything complicated about spending some time in the woods.  And, when it comes down to it, this is just another great reason to get the wife and kids out there with me to see something new.

Finding where the trail actually begins at these places can be a challenge. Willow Springs is no exception; and, once underway, I have to admit that I was initially underwhelmed.  The path was lined with buckthorn, which I really wish I didn’t know anything about, as it invades everywhere, chokes out the understory, and it’s about all you can see once you know what you’re looking at.

But you can’t be discouraged on the few first steps, and we ended up making some great discoveries.

After about fifteen minutes, the narrow trail from the parking area through the woods opened up to a wider, gravel path.  Walking along we come to a small, L-shaped, marshy lake. With grasses and reeds lining the muddy banks, the first bird we encountered was a Greater Egret, standing white and poised, filching fish from the shallows.  Hiding behind some brush, we passed the binoculars and saw the silver flash and spasm of a minnow in the egret’s beak just before disappearing down into his gullet.  It took flight once we appeared and flew croaking to another visible section of the lake and landed a short ways from a Great Blue Heron.

We continued to pass the binoculars, watching the two birds wade slowly along when suddenly the shoreline erupted in a multitude of small explosions as frogs fled the bank into deeper water.  At least we think it was frogs..could’ve been minnows, but pretty sure it was frogs.  Regardless, it was impressive, watching these small creatures flee the banks, and something none of us had ever seen before.  We hung around long enough to see another wading bird, what may have been a Green Heron, make his way up the opposite side of the bank and take up position equidistant from the other two.  We never got a close enough look at this one to tell for sure, but it was pretty cool nonetheless watching them stand spaced along the edge of the water.

As we departed I heard the call of a what may have been a Red Shouldered Hawk somewhere over the water.  As we moved away from the water and back into the woods, I heard her again somewhere in the trees, hidden deep and invisible.

Later, we took a small trail off the main path through the woods and into a field filled with grasses, wildflowers, and a smattering of trees placed in small clusters here and there throughout.

A closer examination of the black specks in an Ironweed’s fuchsia blooms revealed an abundance of shiny beetles. The lighter purple florets of a Rough Blazing Star served as a frilled suite for two yellow soldier beetles as they mingled their genes to form yet another generation in an ancient lineage.

We looked up and noticed how, when we’d stop moving for a moment, the one dragonfly hovering above would suddenly be joined by a host of others, materializing out of the blue sky.

the land ethic – part 3

notes from the mornin’time: fiveAMramble #3

8/28 – S.C.A. 239

Land as community, when this idea “penetrates our intellectual life”, the land ethic will come to enlarge the notion of community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals: the land.

This is a key point to keep in mind: that often, when we consider the land, we think only of the dirt, or from where the grass and trees grow. That portion of the earth we plow, excavate, or pave.

But the land is more than this. Infinitely so. How can this be communicated and internalized?

Leopold thought that the land will always be managed as a resource, which I think is probably true. So long as we’re around to manage it. We are resource intensive creatures, and I don’t see this changing anytime soon.

But will we ever be able to manage the land as something more than an economic resource, or manage the land while keeping close in mind our own membership and place within the biotic community?

Sitting in the woods is less about the sitting, or the woods even; but more about developing for oneself a deeper notion of what this land ethic means. Or, for those not interested in ethics, sitting in the woods is about taking the time to consider and reflect on your, or our, place in this world and becoming more mindful of all the small details unfolding around us all.

the land ethic – part 2 (notes from the steno pad)

notes from the mornin’time: fiveAMramble #2

8/27 *see steno.

If little birds hold the secrets of living, then I feel we may be missing something.  and we should listen closely.

This morning I want to think more about an ethic, limitation on action, and economy…how does this relate back to how we relate to the land.

So I consult my favorite online resource and think about word origins and some basic definitions of things n stuff:

  • ethic (ethos) -> custom
    • Gk – moral character, nature, disposition, habit, custom
      • consider a land ethic in terms of habit and custom based on our disposition towards the land.
  • property -> rare in the sense of “possession” until 17c, “holding property” in 1760
  • own/ownership -> to be master of, to possess
  • limit -> to restrict, bound, boundary
  • economy -> household management, thrift
    • Gk: OIKONIMOS – “manager, steward“; OIKOS – “house”; OIKONOMIA – “household management, thrift”
      • 1650s -> sense of wealth, as in the wealth of a country, etc.
  • steward -> house guardian
    • stewardship: the responsible use of resources

A “land ethic” constitutes our habits and customs determined by our disposition toward the land. But our disposition toward the land is that of property. You either own it, or you don’t. If you own the land, then you are the master. If you don’t own the land, then somebody else owns it.

We do not feel bound by any custom, or ethic, to limit or restrict our actions upon the land because as the master we may do as we wish, for who is going to tell me what I can and can not do on, or with, my property?

What is lacking is the notion of stewardship and responsibility, the understanding that every action we commit upon the land is not isolated on our property, but bleeds over into everything else.

the land ethic – part 1

notes from the mornin’time: fiveAMramble #1

What is a land ethic?

Aldo Leopold considered an ethic, in ecological terms, as a “limitation on freedom of action in the struggle for existence.” An ecological ethic limits our action upon the land…in our struggle for existence. But our struggle for existence has shifted, and is no longer so much a struggle against the land as a struggle against one another’s competing self-interests.

For all practical purposes, the land has been conquered. This does not mean, however, that the land will not rebel, or that the land will not once again be free. Which will likely come at the price of our own undoing, but whatever.

The land relation, like so many relations, is economic. When a relationship is reduced to economics, then there is no relationship other than what relates to the bottom line, or the highest rate of return.

An economic relationship, in strict terms, is a relationship that has everything to do with individuals, but little (or nothing) to do with community.

When we consider the land as property, this carries the notion that the land can be treated as one sees fit. Property is subservient to the master, and the master enjoys the privilege of bending the property to his will.

We do not have an ethic in relation to the land.

We do not have a mode of guidance outside of economic expediency.

So, WHAT IS THE ETHIC? WHAT DOES IT ENTAIL?

When the ecological processes that sustain life on this planet are so intricate, and when we tend to be so disruptive and ignorant, how do we guide our own actions?