Winter Survival & Bushcraft Workshops for 2012

Wilderness Arts is offering several workshops in Bushcraft and Winter Survival this season. Our courses are fun, no-nonsense and highly professional. Hope to see you in the woods sometime soon!

February 4 or 18:

In conjunction with the University of Montana-Helena, these 8 hour workshops will address the fundamentals of winter survival: dressing for the cold, tool use, fire making, shelter construction and survival kits. The workshop costs $130 for the day. Please click here for a link to the UMH Continuing Education page.

February 11:

Winter survival workshop in the Swan Valley sponsored by the Swan Ecosystem Center. Please click here for a link to SEC.

March 24 & 25:

Overnight survival training near Bozeman, sponsored by Yellowstone Dogsled Adventures. Come to our two-day workshop and learn more in-depth skills for surviving a backcountry mishap as well as some cool Bushcraft techniques. Cost for the overnight is $200. Please register with Jason Matthews at YDA: kayakerjsm@aol.com

La Nina

Last winter (2010-2011) is still fresh in the minds of many Montanans. By all accounts, it was a record year for snowfall, nearly 200% of normal in some areas by the time it was over. And the cold and precipitation reached well into spring. In north-central Montana, it rained for nearly the entire month of May at lower elevations, while snow continued to accumulate in the mountains. The relentless winter wasn’t limited to Montana however; its severity stretched across the entire northern tier of the U.S. Interestingly, while it was a harsh season in these areas, it was abnormally warm to the north, in the boreal and arctic regions of the continent. Far to the south, horrific drought conditions plagued Texas, Colorado and other states.

Two climate events set the stage for this dramatic weather year; a “negative” phase of the Arctic Oscillation in which high pressure in the far north and mid-latitude low pressure allowed storms to head south, and a phenomenon known as La Nina. This term means “little girl” and is the opposite phase of the better known El Nino pattern. With a La Nina, waters of the equatorial Pacific tend to be significantly cooler than normal. In North America, this translates into colder and wetter winters in the northern states and warmer, dryer winters in the southwest. El Nino tends to manifest the opposite of this. The effect of climate change with these patterns is not well understood or agreed upon. What is known for certain is despite the intensely bitter winter of 2010, it was the 10th warmest year globally, with the lowest level of arctic sea ice ever recorded.

This season, La Nina is predicted to return and produce similar conditions as last year, though perhaps not quite as severe. Many people have mixed feelings about winter. Plenty who visit Montana in the warmer months wouldn’t be caught dead here in January. For me, it is a time of natural beauty and introspection. The landscape is mostly dormant now but the beasts that are active can be easily tracked through snow. It can be a violent season too, especially on the Front with its killing winds and arctic air masses that can lower the mercury to -40. After it stops blowing however, I often put on snowshoes and head outside to stroll through the woods, usually at night. There is something intensely purifying walking through the deep cold in a nighttime landscape with its snow mantle. This time of year, the Milky Way is within reaching distance and a fortunate winter wanderer could see the enchanting Aurora Borealis. It doesn’t get much more real than this.

A La Nina this winter will likely pile snow up in the mountains of Montana; the stuff that drives our rivers, hydrologic systems and just about everything else in Nature. I can’t help thinking about dire predictions of a world without this most austere and awe inspiring season. What could be lost in the way of human culture and ecological systems is heartbreaking. Perhaps it’s best then, to consider each winter storm, arctic cold front or La Nina as gifts; moments of grace for our uncertain future.

23.5

The gradual disappearance of flowers and migratory birds on the landscape is barely perceptible at first. One day, all I noticed in the meadows were late season asters and mountain chickadees. By the end of September, a tipping point has been reached; some critical mass of change had overtaken the energy-laden world of summer that dominated for the past several months. From a cabin in the mountains, I witness cascading changes across the country. It isn’t incremental anymore, but geometric. Each day, large swaths of aspens become gold, sometimes red, or are simply gone, their leaves taken away by our legendary wind.

It’s difficult to pinpoint when the changes began in earnest. I vaguely remember a subtle shift in the light one week; its angle was lower and shadows cast by it, longer. Cool nights accumulated and eventually, the first weather came in from the northwest. Overwhelming, acrid smoke from seasonal forest fires is now replaced with the subtle, pleasant variety from woodstoves. Songbirds have mostly left, with the exception of a few hearty Mountain Bluebirds. The whole of this world now, is sliding into dormancy.

The slow but accelerating movement into autumn is not an accident. It is a result of the curious tilt of Earth’s axis; a 23.5-degree angle that causes the sun’s energy to be deflected and diffuse now, unlike the direct hit we take in the northern hemisphere during the height of summer. It can be likened to a boxer responding to an incoming punch; turning the head away from impact causes a glancing blow, a reduction of energy intake, rather than a knockout. However, I know that the oncoming Montana winter will deliver a different sort of hit.

What I am considering is that small, seemingly insignificant changes over time eventually coalesce into irretrievability. It occurs on every scale; daily, seasonally, geologically and on the cosmos-level of the infinitely large and small. And then at some point, we take notice, often with surprise: the thing we were observing or were a part of, is suddenly different. Where were we when this was happening?

It is October now, arguably one of the most beautiful times in Montana. Still and sunny today, the high peaks have retained a skiff of snow from a recent storm and the prairie quietly waits for more cold and wind. In the cabin, I consider the deeper and more noticeable lines around my eyes and an abundance of silver hair. My young boy who once crawled in autumn light now walks with me and thoughtfully asks about the larger world, its beings and the processes that make it what it is. I’ve noticed recently, answers to many of his questions are becoming more elusive.

Our planet’s built-in mechanism of seasonal change, 23.5 degrees, is there for our acceptance or not. What that tilt sets into motion is staggering; weather currents, photosynthesis on an incomprehensible scale, infinite comings and goings. There is something universal about transitions that cause us to reflect. Some are easy to understand, others unknowable and we never saw them coming or appreciated their magnitude until they were upon us. The gold leaves of autumn are flying here, past the cabin window on the wind’s fury, and will do so until the trees are bare of them. It has my full attention; I’m present now, watching.

Birds of the Front: Sandhill Crane

Photo by Bob Martinka

A new piece about Sandhill Cranes that appeared in last week's Helena Independent Record.

Walking With Sibley

Please check out a recent piece of mine about my experiences in the field with master birder, David Allen Sibley. You can view in here, on the Helena Independent Record's page.

Survival & Bushcraft Workshop June 25th

Hello! I will be teaching a Wilderness Survival and Bushcraft Workshop on June 25th for the University of Montana-Helena. We will cover survival psychology, tool use, fire skills, shelter construction, basic crafting and ethnobotany. The course will be held in the Helena National Forest and the cost is $130.00 for an 8 hour day. For more information and to register, please click here to contact UMH.

Long Billed Curlew

Among the many avian rites of spring on the Rocky Mountain Front, is the return of our Long Billed Curlews (Numenius americanus) to their breeding prairie lands. It’s a less gaudy event than the typically massive Snow Geese migration, but spectacular in its own way. I have found these creatures “staged up” in concentrations of nearly a hundred as they come into the country. This doesn’t last long though; the birds will quickly pair up and become territorial for the nesting process. Long Bills are the largest sandpiper in North America and one of the largest on earth. The females are significantly larger than the males with longer bills. These birds come back to Montana’s grasslands between April and May from coastal or inland-valley wintering areas in California, Central America and the Gulf of Mexico. Long Bills are ground nesters; a small depression is created in rather exposed areas of short-grass prairie and lined with available soft material. Four-egg clutches are most typical. After a nearly 30-day incubation period, the precocial young are born and soon ready to move.

The ridiculously long bill is actually a well-adapted foraging tool in both its wintering and breeding habitats. In Montana, much of what Curlews consume are grasshoppers and other insects, which can occur in great abundance. However, life for ground nesting, grassland birds is especially precarious; so not long after hatching, the Curlew parents will often move the new family to the cover of taller grass as a precaution against predation. In about 2-3 weeks, the female will essentially abandon the young, leaving the remaining chick-rearing to dad. Many people find the plaintive cry of these birds to be strongly evocative of Montana’s wide-open, native grasslands. Until recently, very little was known about migration routes and other basic facets of this bird’s ecology. Nearly all wildlife agencies in the US, Canada and Mexico consider Long Billed Curlews to be an “At Risk” species. Once again, this speaks largely to our cultural bias against grasslands as anything other than grain-growing, energy-producing areas that lack aesthetic appeal or biological value in general.

But nothing could be further from the truth. The grassland habitats upon which Curlews and other species depend are some of the richest, most rare and threatened ecosystems in all of North America. Because only 1-2% of relatively intact, native prairies exist on the continent, the concern for long-term viability of many creatures is serious. Ecologists estimate a global population of about 160,000 individual Long Billed Curlews. Although this is greater than some earlier estimates, the newer research still points to an overall decline and suggests a need for immediate, international conservation measures.

My connection with Curlews is strongly associated with the Front. I’ve watched these birds go about the business of life in that beautiful but unforgiving landscape for years now. High winds and predictably-unpredictable spring snowstorms probably kill birds with some regularity. Then there are the many eaters of Curlews; I have witnessed nest raidings by ravens, coyotes, badgers and foxes as well as the outright slaying of adult birds by falcons and Golden Eagles. And it’s hard to watch, knowing what we know about the sober conservation challenges for this and all grassland species that lie ahead. If we consider the stress of natural predation in addition to habitat loss due to wind farms, oil and gas development, invasive species and habitat conversion of prairie to crop production, things can look dire indeed.

But all is not lost. Some of the finest remaining prairies in North America are right here in Montana and many organizations are active in promoting their conservation. A fantastic educational opportunity for birders is Montana Audubon’s upcoming Wings Across the Big Sky Bird Festival, which will be held in Glasgow this year, from June 3-5. Participants can learn about Montana’s extraordinary grassland birds with expert-led field trips, lectures and other fun activities. For more information, please contact Montana Audubon at 406-443-3949 or visit their website, www.mtaudubon.org.

David Cronenwett is a writer, naturalist and wilderness survival instructor from Choteau, Montana.