Passing the Baton

Labor Day 

 

A day to recognize the worker and the goodness of work.

 

A day to rest.

 

The clock just clicked past mid-night. 85 years old and now he's resting, finally. The work never stops even though we rest. It continues to accumulate ready to be tackled once rest is over.

 

Russel, always planning, reading, inquiring about the next project at the farm. After long, drawn out discussions, often for months, about what will happen, what will be planted, built, cut, graded and so on, Russel relinquished control of the property to Katherine and I. It will be a good thing, managing the property. We just had to pry his grip from his everyday control. After the transaction, he was much more at rest with his decision. He didn't need to carry it for so long, but he did. Workers do that, I guess.

 

So here I am, Labor Day, having a beer, planning some meetings, phone calls, getting ready for the next day. Lots to do really. Passing the baton is a simple task but what it represents determines the next leg of the race. The realization of that responsibility is sinking in and it doesn't happen until the passer lets go.

 

Russel can rest now.

 

Thanks Russ

 

 

June 5, 1929 - September 1, 2014

      

Thanks for the kick start.

I recently got an e-mail from a long time friend who called me out the picture I posted on the website. In his e-mail, he chastised, or insinuated that I posted a picture of myself from the 80's.

Ken, thank you! That's a real picture of me but, it was only taken four years ago on my honeymoon! Ha-ha-ha! Since then, and having a daughter in college, being gainfully employed in a very competitive market, I'm a fossil in the office mind you, I've added a few more gray hairs, a few more pounds, so yes, the picture is a little convoluted. The tan, it no longer exists because of the mosquitos and flies associated with this ass-busting work that's the foundation of this blog. It's time to get back writing again. Lot's to talk about.

Moving on....to?...the classics... to bee, or not to bee?...that is the question....

Spring had brought more trees, replacements primarily. Last summer was horrendous in terms of drought. Many trees succumbed to the stress and with our dandy soil, keeping up with a watering routine was nothing short of exhausting. Here was a new season and rain patterns have been consistent and amounts have faired well. In short, it's been a good spring.

The orchard has faired well. Apples have done very well to which I attribute Katherine's due diligence in choosing good rootstock. Cherries, so-so. Peaches have been a problem, not sure why. Apricots o.k.

During the late fall of last year, Katherine came across an article about bee school. A session where anybody who was interested in getting more knowledgeable about honey bees and bee keeping. It seemed like a good fit, especially with the orchard, so our mutually agreed upon Christmas gifts were set, a day long seminar, a couple of cardboard boxes filled with the pine parts of our first hive, all the protective gear and the beekeepers bible. Actually, there was more to Christmas than just bee stuff so just follow along, it's a story.

On a cold January day Katherine and I ventured down to Indianapolis to attend beekeeping school. I do have to say, I really enjoyed it and caught the bug. We immediately assembled our hive, Katherine did the flower detail on the front and then we waited for our queen and entourage, the nuc.

During the first week of June, I went out to pick up our nuc from a breeder in Nappanee, Indiana. The breeder painted a dot on her thorax to identify her and the next day we installed the five frame nucleus into the new hive. We were set. These are the expert pollinators.

These are pictures of new frames that were empty just three weeks ago. The workers, all female, have built out the foundation and the queen has been busy laying new brood. The light tan caps will soon give way to new bees. The light skinned caps in the corner are filled with honey. Amazing for three weeks work. As a result, we've already added a second box on top of the brood, or bottom hive box to accept the rapidly expanding colony.

In addition, the good rain has pushed fruiting as you can see by the pictures. Flowers are blooming and the nectar is flowing.

Fantastic raspberries.

Yes, that's really me.

Reprieve

re·prieve

/riˈprēv/

Verb Cancel or postpone the punishment of (someone, esp. someone condemned to death).

Noun A cancellation or postponement of a punishment. During the the summer months, my son Erik and I began the process of gutting the interior of the original house. With just over 60 cubic yards of debris hauled away and a number of bonfires to dispose of the burnable debris, the carcase of the house revealed our decision to assess the next move. Do nothing. The last tenent of Russell's just got up and moved out on a moments notice and there was Russell ready to rent the place again. Russell who lives next door in squalid conditions hadn't been in the house in years and really had no idea or for that matter, really cared about the condition of the house. Now mind you, here's a house with no heat or air conditioning, a trickle of water, no plumbing per se, no propane, tons of rot, broken windows, etc. but, it's got a great foundation, sort of.... Katherine and I toyed with the idea of rehabbing the house and I began preliminary plans on paper of some potential ideas. We wanted it for ourselves. A place that we could grow old in, serve our needs and reclaim the character and style. It would require an addition and major alterations in order to meet the goal and it did appear to have "great bones" so to speak. Russell was thrilled with the idea. His daughter and son-in-law, moving in next door in a couple of months. The house is estimated to have been constructed about 1924. Charming really, lots of nice detailing. It probably was a great house during it's time. Solid masonry, classic woodwork on the stair case and crown detail. Only one minor squeek on the first floor which otherwise was tight all around. I've been engaged in remodeling old structures long enough to know that what appears on the surface can certainly mask a myriad of problems underneath. The constant question I hear is "how much?" I always brush it off because I really don't know. Until I do a deep investigation to the core and then rebuild from there, then you'll have your estimate, not the answer. As we continued with exploratory dismantling, revelations changed the scope of work  and I could see dollars escalate. I put together numbers and crunched them for the sake of softening the blow to Katherine, my gut told me otherwise. The cost far outweighed the benefit. It was dead in the water as far as I was concerned and reasoned with Katherine to the decision.   The rest of the season fell into slump. A good slump. It became a time when we could manage what we've done throughout the past two seasons. Most everything we wanted to plant had been planted. A few casualties as a result of the brutal summer heat and deer pressure but overall, not bad.  I feel the pressure off a bit just because I don't want to deal with it. There's still plenty of work to be done, much of it in winter. I need the rest. We, Katherine and I need the rest. And so fall meandered in and the holiday time snuck in too. The clouds hang lower and gray palls the sky. Fast moving fronts bring wind, rain and change. The hunt club has been busy. It's their time of year. They've done a good job of maintaining the property and keeping things orderly. The land has fallen into a graceful peace which is wonderful to watch and preparing for it's deep winter sleep.

Summer Stuff

Here it is, June. Summer is in full swing. Actually, summer just started two days ago, according to the calendar and with the fourth of July just around the corner, summer's half over. No wonder it seems to fly by. There's lotsa happenin' at Birdland. There's no vacation this time like there was in school. We're grateful for both of us to be working again so we can get back on track with our goals. Lots of competition for our dollars. Time is short, lots of demands.

BBQ. Charcoal. Hardwood. Slow smoked and succulent. Homemade secret sauce. Pork shoulder. Pork loin. Turkey. Ribs. Beef. Throw in a side of slaw. Can't wait for the local sweet corn to arrive in August. Sweet corn's about knee high right now. Right on schedule. Sure could use some rain though. We're still about a 1.5" - 2" down of where we should be and with sandy soil, it's extra dry.

Tomorrow I'm smoking a pork loin. I've always had good success with loin. The taste of it just drives the passion to experiment further. A simple charcoal water smoker suits me just fine for the task. Low and slow.


The hunt club has really stepped up their involvement with the property. Clearing, cleaning, grading, planting. All of which have been positive. The repair of old blinds continues in a few existing locations near the river inlet, the demolition of one old in-ground blind and the creation of a new floating blind.

They've collectively picked salvaged items for recycling, made efforts to keep Katherine and I informed of intentions regarding road and paths, and continuing to offer their collective services for whatever property improvements we may need.

I'm confident in Dale, the hunt club president, to make sure that things run smoothly. He's done a good job in the past and has a real good handle on his group. A lot of guys have stepped out of the shadows, up to the plate and have demonstrated commitment, time, equipment, materials and their dollars into the property for their hobby/passion. I like it. It says a lot.

Russel, Katherine's father, is the figure head, the patriarch. He collects the rent and, after that, doesn't really know what going on in regards to the property. Katherine is the co-trustee. It's a dynamic tension between Russel and Katherine that keeps things interesting. After all, it is Neswick property and Neswick issues.  It's a changing of the guard so to speak. Katherine realized a long time ago that most guys don't listen to her if she's put into a authoritative role and as a result, I've been delegated to hunt club issues... along with watering all designated plants in Katherine's absence. I stay neutral on the family matters unless asked for my opinion.

In other news.....

Phil, a.k.a.: tee pee man.

Word came down last week from Russell, that Phil's perpetual motion machine failed. ( No surprise. ) Any further modifications and adjustments have been aborted. Phil continues on his regular job to install gutters, downspouts and leaf screens. It's still unsure whether Phil actually lives at Birdland or not.
The lazy boy and cereal boxes indicate otherwise.

He's never around unless we're finally done with our tasks, then he shows up, often at all hours of the day or night. His recent modification to Abode de Saran, from flat to gable roof, continues to demonstrate his commitment to improving and pushing the limits in the design of low cost shelter. The gutter doesn't help as an upgrade but, what the heck, he's a gutter guy. He always seems to be stunned at the fact that we find his behavior and experiments odd and beyond ordinary, or extraordinary. The thing is, Phil is a really nice guy. He teamed upped with Russel and, with most money making prospects, Russel is easy to sway. And thus began an experiment in the gold fish pond.

The recent visit down to the gold fish pond revealed several "pots" on the water. The pots contain a variety of vegetables planted in 5 gallon plastic pails with holes in the bottom to allow water to migrate into the soil within the pail. The pail, containing soil is supported by 2" foam board and wood struts to keep it upright. Again, good intentions, bad engineering. One of the crops destined for hydroponic greatness was watermelons. Makes perfect sense really. Lots of water + watermelon seeds = giga-watermelons.   Did anyone check to see if watermelons float? Actually, the answer is yes, watermelons do float. 

What doesn't float is a bucket full of dirt and water. Despite the floatation efforts, I'm still leary. Pilot test plot is 100, 5 gallon pails. I remained totally silent on the process because of Russel's approval of the project, though I do imagining myself pulling sunken plastic pails from the pond in a few years.  Russel just beams a smile, confident that this is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
The program continues.

Charlie:

I have no idea who Charlie is. Charlie is just one of those guys that shows up, and thank goodness, not often. Charlie's a guy from a long time ago. A time when Birdland was an open party place, come one, come all. Charlie still shows up decades later and a few times this month. There could be months without seeing Charlie, and then, there he is, hangin' around. Good time Charlie.

Think Hollywood casting. A down and out drunk. Disheveled, incoherent, chain smoker, bad teeth, etc. That's a real person. That's Charlie.

We really don't want Charlie showing up. He's an alcoholic, and when buzzed, he's out of his mind. He shows up unannounced and entertains Russel. Russel doesn't want him around either.

Charlie flew by us the other day on his scooter, long grey hair in the wind, cigarette in his mouth. He never even acknowledged us. Crazed look in his eyes, heading out of Birdland and down the road. We need a gate or more. I'm sure Charlie doesn't have internet nor do I think he'll ever read this blog. Charlie needs help.

Louie:

(see Charlie, only better)

The other day, I walked around to the back of the house to find Louie on the ground starring up into the trees, eyes slowly opening and closing.

If it weren't for the fact he was opening and closing his eyes, I'd say he was dead. I said nothing, Louie said nothing. Charlie and Louie had stopped by to visit with Russel. Together, Charlie and Louie polished off a bottle of Jagermeister. Russel sticks to his "cocktail", straight vodka with a fruit juice chaser. Charlie was nowhere in sight but, his scooter was still there.

Frustrating. I'm getting hot and it's more than just the summer heat. Katherine is sensing my crabbiness.

The clean up will continue.

There will be casualties

This May has been the warmest (hottest) on record around here. It's just been that kind of spring. Abnormal and prolonged warmth spurred everthing into premature bud break and blooms arrived way too early. The normal seasonal frost nipped'm in the bud and intense early heat has created problems, a.k.a. casualties.

We've continued to expand our planting into a newly cleared orchard area, planting approximately 45 fruit trees into an area of just under an acre. Again, as last year, the coddling of first year planting maintenance is just another plate to spin. The irrigation issue is always an issue, mainly because there isn't any irrigation system. It's on the wish list. Now, we're relegated to hauling 5 gallon buckets out of a nearby pond. At best, it's a physical workout with alot of muttering. Weather related heat and the fact that the soil is sandy, results in soil that's very well drained, demands an ever supply of water at regular intervals. Gee! I guess we never thought about that!!... duh!!!  And again, we're constantly reminded of limited resources (a.k.a. money, materials and equipment, and the lack thereof... ) doesn't help either. You'd think we'd have this nailed down before shovel hit the ground and plantings ordered, but I confess, we're neophytes in this arena, despite studying books, professional journals, white papers and the like, and in short, trying to cover all the bases.

On the bright side, I'm working full time again. A welcome relief from the monetary hemmorage and constant budget adjusting we've been experiencing. It's been tough. I tell myself and Katherine, "We're not alone.", if anything, just to comfort Katherine during the "why us" moments that occasionally surface when thing are less than comfortably normal. In reality, the economy has affected everyone, and everyone has a story of some how they've had to adjust. So be it.

Some plantings that recently spouted have been demolished by who knows what, rabbits, deer, ground hogs, etc. This pertains to the vegetable garden along with tender buds on fruit trees throughout the remaining gardens. Seems that we've lost a little something everywhere. It's disheartening to arrive on the scene after a few days of labor, of care and codling, only to see catastophe. It's anger, frustration and bewilderment all rolled into one. Dollars and time, gone down the toilet. Yet, after the moment, the frustration, anger, we move on.

There's nothing like a collective effort, in our case, a joint effort with a partner, coworker, one who carries the burden with you, a common vision, that moves you on. We don't have to talk much about it, we just know. Synchonisity. It's a pretty cool thing when you've got it and maybe it's uncommon in some ways. Some of our friends and aquiantances don't get it. Whether they do or not, we really don't care, we're not quiting on this. We know what we're sitting on. We sit and talk, have a drink, assess the damage, lick our wounds, record the experience, aways grateful that we have this place, despite the task before us. Future benefit never came without a beginning cost involved.

What a classroom, humbling, at best, under the heat and pressures of the powers that be.

What a fool believes

But what a fool believes he sees ...
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems ... to be
Is always better than nothing

The Doobie Brothers

I'm standing in the middle of a county road. The blacktop ends about a half mile back in this picture and then, the road becomes gravel. The gravel road ends about a quarter mile further. Birdland is the end of the road, where the gravel ends. The road, according to maps, runs behind me in this shot for just under a mile, all the way back to the river yet, this sand trail is about as good as the road gets from here.  At one time, it was to be a gateway for thousands, and now, where the gravel ends there's a gate, a simple gate. One of the landowners who owns a parcel in back put a "do not trespass" sign on it. It's nothing more than an ineffective notice. I don't think the county really cares about the road past the gate. Less maintenance and they show no resistance to the fact that there's a private gate on a county road.

Once upon a time, thirty some years ago, Birdland was in full bloom. Birdland was place where schemes hatched and with that, and a few drinks, someone always had a comment about knowing someone, who knows someone, who maybe can be the contact for greater things. As the story goes, Russel, Katherine's father, who's seems to have a great case of selective memory, recalls young kid who was hanging around Birdland who knew someone, who had contacts to a major concert promotion and production company. Concerts bring in people and money and everything about Birdland had a feel good quality about it.  Let the good times roll!

The production company was interested in the concept and made contact with Russel. Everything seemed to be falling into place except the site work needed for the venue and an estimated crowd of about 14,000 attendees. This was a venture and Russel was salivating at a money engine, success, promotion, notoriety, fame and fortune. Young and ambitious, think epic, think friends with deep pockets, political insiders, guys who could make things work, the deal makers. Russel was massaging the works with whatever tools he had. He used money and he had the land.


And so work again began in earnest to prepare Birdland for greatness. The area was still primarily open field, so attendees could park and camp essentially anywhere. Roads were cut on the property, pavilions built, and electric service was brought onto an island in the middle of a lake. A bridge, an elevated stage overlooking the water was planned and the acres of grounds across from the stage, was ready for thousands of people. Russel is a people person. Concert promoter. Visionary. Entrepreneur.

Plans were in the works, the Chicago market, the great Midwest market, heck, think national. What attraction could draw throngs of crowds to this venue? Doobie Brothers 1979. The band with the number one song and number one record of the year. The band  had the contract and conections with the very production company Russel was in contact with. Visions of grandeur with The Doobie Brothers appearing live on stage at Birdland! Forget east and west coast venues, this could be Woodstock - Birdland.

When I heard this story originally and read the actual newspaper articles about it, small town paper mind you, I was taken back by the audacious roll of the dice that Russel took. I'm all in favor of good planning. I like to think in practical terms, like where were all these people really going to park and pee? The gravel roads didn't even exist at that time. The roads leading off the state road over a mile away were nothing more than sand ruts. Russel sure wasn't going to rent portable toilets, heck, he already had three outhouses, that's plenty. Guys don't need an outhouse anyway.

I remember watching the movie Woodstock, based upon the famous music festival in New York in 1969. Crazy man, just crazy. Most of the locals around here seemed to be united in their opinion and  were thinking along the same lines. "Now hold on a minute. Hell, we don't want no long haired, marijuana smokin' hippies 'round here. There's no Doobies that live 'round here and come to think of it, what the heck is a doobie anyway?"

As the wind drifts around here, eventually word drifted south to Kentland, the county seat. When word hit that this attorney-newbie-businessman-goofball was going to upset the peace and tranquility of the area, the officials opened the books and looked for roadblocks. It didn't take long. This was farm country and not an entertainment magnet. There's no room that kind of business and it's zoned agricultural and the county commissioners like the local economy just the way it is. Don't go messin'  with things 'round here. And so the powers that be declared their stance and a determined attorney declared his and the challenge was on.


Meanwhile, back at Birdland, dreams don't die easy and Russel wasn't backing off. Zoning ordinances can be challenged, modified and the system marshaled in creative ways, if you know the game. And so the preparations continued, mind you that there was never a contract with the production company and no guarantees of any promised appearance from anyone. Russel, the visionary-attorney-entreprenuer, just forged ahead, looking forward to welcoming the band with open arms as they sauntered across the bridge to hospitality area below the stage.

At the zoning hearing, a staunch and sober group of board members had their say, and they weren't going to budge. It's agriculture and that's it, not an area for business ventures and attractions. Russel appealed the decision and the county dragged it out for years until Russel hit the dead end.

The players who schemed the great event were long gone, just like so many others who used Birdland as a playground and hangout place. Spending money is easy and this time, it was an investment that was all cost and no return. Maybe visionaries and dreamers just are averse to consequences despite how intelligent they seem to be. And so, Russel closed the door on another venture gone bust.

The Dobbie Brothers, on the other hand, continued on their way to fame and fortune. The closest The Doobie Brothers ever made it to Birdland was a probably a flyover into Chicago's O'Hare. And the grounds, concert goers and the county, they missed out on the greatest concert that never happened at Birdland.

Okie Dokie

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds....    James 1:2

I know that the context of this scripture verse is primarily a lesson in perseverance and faith. I've read that verse countless times, sat through messages, studied the commentaries. Even reading the entire chapter in its entirety and I still cringe when I read it, probably because, if I had my druthers, I think most of us would like life to be easy or at least easier. It just strikes that nerve. What?... are you crazy?

For some reason, I googled okie and dust bowl and the picture of this guy came up, so I used it. I heard a story about a guy like this. What I liked about this picture was, it captured the look of a guy who pretty much saw everything that was laid out around him, not much and pretty bleak. That's just the way is. "If God brings some rain, maybe we'll make it, if not... jeez, I don't what we'll do... California maybe... I got some kin out there... I hear there's the land of opportunity."

The forest is rich with life around here. Sometimes I become so acclimated to the surroundings that all I see is the task before me. Usually, it's maintenance related. One of our goals is to clean up the property and assist in some kind of restoration effort of native and unusual trees for our zone region. I saw the trees, the forest, the task but, I never really thought about the opportunity. This is a private affair after all. This will be our home. It's general housekeeping.

Yes, that's a scuba diver in the picture. Well, not actually a diver but a mannequin in a wet suit nailed to a tree. It's Russel's opportunity, one of many. An "underwater" reef in the middle of the woods. I'll do more on the reef later but I do admire his quirkiness at pursuing opportunity. We saw a corn field, he saw a forest. Everyone else saw a forest, he saw beneath the seas. We see lemons, he sees lemonade.

I like the thought of seeking out new opportunity. This place is a great resource and harvesting from it would be rewarding. I knew I had to get some assistance. I've often had a tendency to learn the hard way on a lot of things.

I start poking around in places and before you know it...

lesson learned... from experience.

Life's trials are tough enough and I don't have the time at this point in my life to experiment too deep and do things over, so I decided to bring in an expert and get their opinion.  

Last month, I called the Indiana DNR forestry division. A forester named James, assigned to our geographic area, came out at the beginning this month and we proceeded to walk the property. The weather was perfect, clear, cool and comfortable. The trees and shrubs hadn't leafed out yet and it was easy to get around. We talked about what Katherine and I wanted, examined what was existing, the pluses and minuses, courses of actions, etc. I liked James. We could relate easily to each other. We're both from northern Illinois, both went to state schools, both worked for lumber companies and other similar interests and experiences. There wasn't too much either of us hadn't seen in terms of garbage and junk sites. I asked about emerald ash borer and the prospect of timber harvesting. Unfortunately, there's not much in the way of quality logs for the hardwood market, pallet lumber at best. The trees have never been thinned and are spindly and crowded. The ash borer will most likely come someday and kill the ash, it's just a matter of time.

"The honeysuckle has to be controlled, that's number one," he told me. "eventually, the trees will die out, the honeysuckle will take over and you'll have a forest of it."

Gads, I can barely control the little area that I've got, it's so pervasive. 

"You know how you can tell a walnut from ash?" With that, James pulled out a knife a scraped the bark of a tree to reveal the chocolate brown layer beneath on a black walnut tree. Ash and walnut bark look similar in appearance and apparently, we've got a lot of it. It's not worth much because it's all locked in the tightness of an unthinned forest, thin, spindly and choked with honeysuckle. Sometime in April, I'm expecting to receive a report from James as to conditions along with his recommendations.

Prior to James leaving that day he remarked, "If I were you, I'd plant black walnut, you've got the perfect place for it."

I've been thinking and researching it. It sure seems like we've got the perfect place for it. So now, I'm thinking a lot, without letting my head get too big. I think I may be able to make this work, maybe a few acres, a walnut plantation. Purdue #1, genetically superior for timber harvesting. Finally, the place, the product, the time. The downside, I'll probably never live long enough to see it harvested. Maybe that's a good thing. I guess I could just enjoy the beauty and trials of bringing this venture along my leg of the journey.  Lotta maybes.

I guess I never really knew what I had under my feet until I started poking around a little and asking questions. The resources were there all the time.

Kinda funny, kinda humbling, kinda satisfying.

   

Oh yeah, the old guy. I heard he stuck with it. He's squatting on a million barrels of oil.

I heard he did o.k.

   

They're back...

Normally, I'd still be wrestling with the winter blahs about now, tired of the dead gray-brown landscape that seemingly lasts forever. This "winter", if you could call this a winter, has been a dud and I think it's great. The last days of winter have been in the 80's. The first few days of spring in the mid 80's and it continues on this unprecedented streak for the next week. Today's temperature forecast, Chicago 84. The weather seems to be the topic of discussion everywhere around here. Shorts, pasty white legs and sunscreen are in. Unbelievable for March.... key word unbelievable! Things however, like weather, have a way of averaging out so it remains to be seen how this early heat will play out for the rest of spring or maybe we'll just skip spring and dive right into summer. Anyway, I'm lovin' it and so is every bug and plant around here. Katherine and I have been bit by mosquitoes already, in mid-March!

Prep work continues in the orchard area. Scrub trees cut and removed, and a rough grade was made to knock down some high spots, fill in the low and eliminate some suckering honeysuckle and autumn olive. Unfortunately, the soil is very sandy, weak in loam, poor in nutrients. The rootstocks that Katherine ordered the trees on should take into account the poor soil conditions. We'll just ammend as needed. Our first group of trees have come in from a nursery in New York and have been planted and mulched. The remaining orders from other nurseries will be shipped out sometime in April. This time, the pace seems more manageable, compared to last year when we were inundated with hundreds of trees at once and poor timing with site prep.  All in all, I'm pleased with what we've got to work with, a cleared area approximately 200' x 120' and space layed out for about 50 fruit trees.

The weather has also brought about the growth spurt of the invasive plants. The multi-flora rose, honeysuckel and autumn olive have exploded. They're the last to die back and first to leaf out. What a scourge on this property! Another invasive is oriental bittersweet, a thick vine that has it's way throughout the forested area. It climbs up a tree and attatches to another tree and forms a twisted woody network high, wide and heavy to bring down mature trees. It just keeps on growing, getting larger and stronger. Since most of these vines are deeper into the woods, we're not too concerned. Eventually, we'll have to attack them lest we lose too many trees and have a forest of invasives. Soon the area will be thick, green, and difficult to penetrate. It is something to see and wonder at their gnarly, twisted growth.

Elsewhere, we're just enjoying this unseasonably summerlike warmth, breakout the barbeque, plan the next steps, sit on a stump, smell the freshness of spring. It's good to get winter behind us.

Long shadows

Even though this season has been extremely mild, it's still winter. A see-saw of freezing cold, snow storms and balmy thaw. The days appear to be getting longer, though the sun still seems stuck in the southern sky, only a few degrees above the horizon. When the sun shines, there's the ever present long shadow. This is a time of year that I need to get out often. Winter's getting old. I get stagnant being indoors for long and having the sun warm my face certainly lifts my spirit. There's plenty of work yet to be done around here. There's never a shortage of it but, sometimes it's enjoyable to just take a walk and explore the place, cold, frozen and quiet.

Today I followed a dirt access road on the property back towards the river. There's a drainage culvert that parallels the road and it was frozen over. The road dead ends into the bottoms, an area often flooded, muddy, rarely accessible. There's a natural inlet off the river that cuts back into the property. We refer to it as the slough. The hunt club uses the area quite a bit for duck hunts. An old blind is back there but seem to have be abandoned for some time. A lot of rot and dis-repair. The hunt club has moved to higher ground with their blinds and floods the surrounding area it needs.

I'd been back here before but never to the point where I could walk into areas that were seemingly inaccessible. Perhaps a shallow draft boat or waders. Even then, the muck would make things difficult. Today, the water was frozen enough to support me. The ice definitely wasn't a hard freeze ice, kind of soft, old. An occasional thudding crack from across the ice jarred my better judgement, especially being out here alone but, it did offer a new perspective for the moment. Reflections and long shadows in combinations of satin and gloss planes.

In the bottoms, young saplings sucker up and crowd each other out, never reaching any potential. The trees all seem to have a natural darken trunk near the base from constant soaking or wicking the saturated ground. It is, after all, a natural wetland. The ground is frozen crusted in the forest, soggy in the sunlit openess. The birds are here, geese are present, coopers hawk and eagle are in the area. The presence of deer tracks, so prevalent in other areas of the property, are missing. There's evidence of other activity though, beaver.


Near the open water along the tree line, it became visible. Their activity was fresh, chips on the ground, newly exposed white wood nawed away with precision and perseverance.They're not afraid to tackle the larger trees either. Pin oak seem to be a favorite. The larger trees in the pictures are about 12"-16" in diameter. Only a few of the large trees have fallen. The smaller trees, 4-6" diameter trees have disappeared, no sign of them. From my view, I can't tell where limb and log have drifted off to. The only remains is a stump that looks like it when through a giant pencil sharpener.

I heard that if you remove a beaver from it's place, two or more will fill in the vacancy. I could care less in this area. The pin and swamp oaks will die and there's tens of thousands of trees here anyway. This area for a long time has been flush with wildlife. Beaver, fox, raccoon call this home. It's the fur bearing side of Birdland, in the bottoms. A place not often, or easily accessible. I think that's part of it's attractiveness. As spring approaches, the water level will rise and this area will see-saw back and forth between water and muck, green growth and rot. It's still amazing to see the diversity of life back here, even in winter.

I found a youtube video on the Grand Kankakee Marsh. It's a preview of an upcoming documentary to be aired on PBS sometime this spring. Birdland is in the geograhical region of this once grand marsh.

Click here for the link.