A View From Aerie Mountain

Winter Survival & Bushcraft Workshops for 2012

2012-01-25T13:34:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-04T12:34:00.000-08:00

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

2011-10-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

Photo by Bob Martinka

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

Walking With Sibley

2011-07-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

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

2011-05-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Nature Conservancy Excursions!

2011-04-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

Howdy all. Please click the link to see what The Nature Conservancy is offering in the way of Natural History excursions around the globe. There are several trips in Montana based out of Pine Butte Guest Ranch where I will be working as lead-naturalist this summer. Check it out here!

Common Loon

2011-04-19T09:25:00.000-07:00

One of more startling moments during spring on the Rocky Mountain Front can be experienced at Eureka Reservoir. If you hit it right, you can spot migrating Common Loons (Gavia immer) on this human-created, prairie lake. When these iconic northern birds travel from their coastal winter range back towards boreal, wilderness lake habitat to breed, they are often seen in unsuspecting places, like Eureka. Globally, there are 5 species of loons, each in the family Gaviidae. They are all beautiful, well-evolved for diving and strongly associated with northern lands and waters. Loons are one of the most ancient bird families in North America. Fossil evidence suggests that Gaviiformes’ relatives came into being in the Late Cretaceous, approximately 65 million years ago, and that the “modern” loon was thriving during the Eocene, about 35 million years before present. These creatures witnessed the end of the dinosaurs and the dawn of the mammalian age.

The Common Loon is a large bird weighing up to 17 pounds, with denser bones and larger muscles for swimming than most waterfowl. They have an internal floatation system of balloon-like air sacs arranged along the backbone that can keep them on the water’s surface even in fierce conditions. The feet are positioned improbably far back on the body, near the tail and they flay outward. While this makes walking on land dangerously awkward, it is yet another important adaption for diving, their primary mode of hunting. Loons have a thermoregulation system that utilizes their large, webbed feet. A bird can sometimes be observed waving (or “waggling”) a foot above the water to help warm or cool itself. A useful tactic for a species that spends a great deal of time in very cold waters.

In the Western US, Common Loons are actually rather uncommon; they are only known to breed in Wyoming, Idaho, Washington and Montana, having been extirpated from California, Oregon and Utah by the mid 20th century. The State of Montana considers the bird a Species of Concern. Although, with an average of 200 individuals counted each breeding season since 1980, Montana is actually a stronghold for the species in the West since other states’ numbers are significantly lower. Part of the concern for loon conservation over time is their low reproductive rate, specific habitat requirements and the fact that they are very sensitive to disturbance while on the nest.

The Common Loon must have access to high quality, freshwater lakes to breed, and in our state, this means northwest Montana. Since they are highly vulnerable on land, the bird nearly always chooses shorelines with relatively undisturbed vegetation for nesting. The most successful nests tend to be on lakes less than 60 acres in size and the presence of islands improves their security significantly. Because humans also prefer habitats like these for spring and summer recreation, there can be very real issues with disturbance and nest abandonment. We should note when natural mortality factors are figured in, only about 10 of the 41 annual fledglings will ultimately survive and return to Montana to breed in a given year. Other threats to loon survival are environmental mercury contamination, which could

increase should Clean Air Act emission standards be weakened by Congress, and outright poisoning from lead fishing tackle. The Montana Loon Working Group is an organization made up of several governmental, NGO and business interests dedicated to stabilizing and improving the Common Loon population in northwest Montana. Their research, education efforts, habitat improvements (building floating-nest platforms) and monitoring has been an important factor in keeping our state the loon sanctuary that it is.

Cultures in the Northern world universally consider the Loon, especially the voice of the Common, to be something quite special. Anthropologist Richard Nelson tells us how the Koyukon Natives of interior Alaska describe it; “The call of the Loon”, they say, “is the sound by which all others are measured.” And it is easy to understand why. I have had several encounters with this bird’s “wail” (a sorrowful “wolf howl” vocalization) that I will never forget. On Kintla Lake one summer, I experienced what can only be described as a Loon’s wail stopping time, while all of Nature paused to listen. For me, that sound speaks of the incalculable beauty and loss these ancient birds have witnessed across untold generations. A call that brings the world to its knees and one we must do our best to keep alive.

Birds of the Front: Northern Hawk Owl

2011-03-26T11:03:00.001-07:00

Rare in open spruce woods and around bogs or burned areas. Active in daylight, perching shrike-like on treetops or poles to watch for small mammals. Long pointed tail, uniformly barred underside and black frame on whitish face. – From the Sibley Guide to Birds.

Last summer on the last hour of a birding workshop along the Rocky Mountain Front, I was piloting a vanload of participants on a bumpy road. We were motoring back to Pine Butte Guest Ranch after a week of chasing birds in this vast landscape-across wetland, forest and prairie. The area we had chosen for our final day was in the 2007 Fool Creek Burn, a 60,000-acre fire that began 30 miles back in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, eventually spilling over into the Teton drainage. The workshop was led by David Sibley and after getting our fill of the Accipiters, Falcons and wood warblers that had been recolonizing the burn, we began our drive home. That is, until a voice in the back of the van said, “hey, there’s an owl over there…”

This was when our instructor jumped out of his seat and humorously declared, “It’s a ‘mock-owl!’” And more than just one. We spent the next hour at close range watching a family of Northern Hawk Owls, two adults and five young, go about the business of life. Though breeding records exist for the Polebridge area, until now, there were none known south of there. Well-traveled birders have told me that it is possible to scour the Canadian boreal forest for weeks and not find any of these creatures. Yet here they were; the five fledglings squawking to their parents in a recently burned Montana landscape, well south of their traditional breeding range. Conservation status of the species in Canada is currently “Not At Risk” on the federal level but the State of Montana considers Hawk Owls a “Potential Species of Concern”. In a counterintuitive twist, this bird may adapt well to climate change and the more frequently burned habitats that such changes could create.

The appearance of Hawk Owls (Surnia ulula) is striking, like some weird fusion of an owl head atop a strongly “hawkish” body. The wings are not nearly as broad as other owls and it sports a long, pointed tail. Their overall coloration has a dark, charcoal-ashen quality and this is no accident; its preferred habitat outside of open bogs, is burned forest. We found the owls right off the road (!) using an area of total “stand-replacement”, that is, completely torched with lots of upright snags and no living conifers. In the three years since the fire, understory forbs, grasses and shrubs had come back in a big way and apparently, so had the rodents and their attendant avian predators. While these birds can hunt day or night, they are known for their diurnal predation. So not surprisingly, Hawk Owls have exceptional vision. They can spot prey up to 800 meters (about ½ mile) away. However, they also possess the renowned hearing of their kind; with vertically offset ears the birds can triangulate creatures even beneath a foot of snow. The bulk of their diet is smaller mammals, especially mice and voles but they are known to feed on birds as well.

We were unable to determine the nest site with our family of birds. Generally they will use a natural tree cavity near good hunting grounds for this purpose. The clutch size is from 3-9 eggs and incubation is done entirely by the female. Her mate will feed her while she is on the nest and fledging occurs from 25-30 days. We likely discovered the owls on the cusp of the young one’s dispersal. Because Hawk Owls do have a hawk-like build, they are faster and more maneuverable than most of the night-hunting owls. The construction of Great Horned primary feathers for example, show a soft, comblike leading edge which breaks up the sound of air rushing past as well as that of adjacent feathers rubbing together. In contrast, Hawk Owls and other diurnal owls that don’t have as great a need to hunt by ear, have slightly stiffer feathers without as much capacity to muffle sound. Though you would hardly know it; our time with the birds, observing them gliding from snag to snag, left me with the impression that silence itself is the sound of a Hawk Owl flying.

David Cronenwett is a Writer, Naturalist and Wilderness Survival Instructor from Choteau, Montana. He can be reached at: dcronenwett@hotmail.com

Spring Survival & Bushcraft Courses Offered

2011-03-06T12:22:00.000-08:00

I will be teaching a pair of one-day Wilderness Survival & Bushcraft courses via the University of Montana-Helena on April 9 and 16. Cost for each 8-hour day is $130.00. To register or view the full course description, please click here!

Birds of the Front: American Dipper

2011-02-05T09:10:00.000-08:00

Uncommon along clear, fast-flowing streams. Solitary. Perches on rocks within streams and dives underwater for aquatic insect larvae. Dark gray and plump overall, with long legs and short tail- From the Sibley Guide to Birds

Anyone who has spent enough time along a mountain stream in our state has observed American Dippers (Cinclus mexicanus); the slate-gray aquatic songbird with its cheerful calls and peculiar “bobbing” behavior. The species ranges from northern Alaska to the high mountains of Mexico and even in isolated populations further south. Strongly tied to cold, fast-moving streams, you will rarely observe these creatures far from water and there is scarce evidence that they travel “overland” very often to expand territory or occupy new streams. Like our native trout, Dippers require clean/cold water in good quantity, rocky bottoms with healthy populations of aquatic insects and a roughly 50/50 mix of riffles to pools.

These birds feed mainly on macro-invertebrates, particularly mayflies, stoneflies, caddis, etc., and most often, when the insects cling to cobbles beneath the water’s surface in their larval stage. While Dippers can and do feed “on the wing” during dense insect hatches, the bulk of their diet is derived from the streambed itself and this is reflected in the animal’s behavior and biology. Among the many fascinating adaptations to living in such a wet and dynamic environment are the bird’s translucent “nictitating membranes” a protective third eyelid which allow them to see underwater; an enlarged preening gland (about 10 times bigger than those of comparably size birds) for water proofing; blood that is unusually high in hemoglobin; nostril flaps that can completely exclude water and very dense covert feathers which insulate exceptionally well.

During dives of up to 15 seconds in duration, the birds will use their wings and feet in concert to help propel them through the water. Dippers don’t migrate in the true sense, but will move up and down stream courses with the freezing and thawing of river ice. This can have the effect of individuals bumping into one another during winter and disputes can erupt. Both males and females will maintain their linear territorial boundaries once breeding begins in March. The nests of Dippers are ingenious and startling constructions; completely enclosed, and often basketball-sized, they are made largely of bryophytes (mosses) and often lined with another soft material such as dried grass. The underside of manmade bridges account for a large number of nesting sites anymore, but it is still possible to locate them in more natural settings; behind waterfalls and on boulders or rock walls with some kind of overhang are good places to look. Keep your eye out for an unusually large wad of moss in a strange place! I have found Dippers to be fairly tolerant of humans, so sometimes you can find nests simply by waiting and watching a parent birds on feeding forays from moss-ball to water and back.

In Montana, 4-6 eggs are usually laid from March to May; incubation lasts about 16 days and the hatchings will remain in the nest for another 24. Occasionally a mated pair will produce two broods in a season. The lovely and variable “Dipper Song” is sung by both sexes. Biologists think that because the species lives along stream corridors which tend to be constantly noisy, it takes more than just the males to define a pair’s territory. Also, Dippers vocalize at higher frequencies from that of the ambient noise of their home streams, enough to where they can be heard distinctly by others of their own kind. One study states that stream noise is most intense from 3.0-3.5 kHz whereas most of the birds’ calls are 4 kHz or higher.

Conservation status in most of the birds’ continuous U.S. range is good. Maintaining high water quality seems to be the most important factor to keeping them around. In the long term, water temperature and quantity may be bigger threats in some habitats as the global climate warms.

Walking along the North Fork Teton this time of year, it is not unlikely to see Dippers doing their thing in open areas of the river. I see one standing on the ice, bobbing for a few seconds before diving into the churning and freezing water. At this moment, it is easy to see why a close friend of mine once called the bird, “Montana’s little penguin”. Not quite songbird, not quite waterfowl; but like much in Nature, a graceful example of something beautiful and “in-between”.

David Cronenwett is a Writer, Naturalist and Wilderness Survival Instructor from Choteau, Montana. He can be reached at: dcronenwett@hotmail.com

Trapping Revisited

2011-01-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

The Missoula Independent recently interviewed me about trapping. You can view the resulting article here. While author Erika Fredrickson did an admirable job in synthesizing the complexity of the issue, I do feel that much of the nuance and research of my essay was lost. You can see the original post "On Trapping" here.

Also, I have been digging up more literature on the effects of domestic dogs on wildlife. A newer paper from 2006 can be found here. My overall point being; most of our actions have direct, profound effects on Nature and wildlife and nobody is innocent. Remember this the next time you hop in the car, changing the global climate and forever altering wolverine habitat.

Birds of the Front: Black Capped Chickadee

2011-01-05T20:53:00.000-08:00

Common and widespread; Like all Chickadees, forms small groups; often joined by other woodland songbirds. Feeds on seeds, insects, and spiders gleaned from twigs. Black cap and throat with white cheek and buffy flanks distinctive. –From the Sibley Guide to Birds.

Small motion in trees,

Branches bare, wind howling

Black-capped birds in winter.

One of the most recognizable and familiar birds in Montana, particularly in winter, is the Black Capped Chickadee (Paridae atricapillus). There are three additional species which occurr here; Chestnut-Backed, Mountain and the uncommon Boreal Chickadee. The Black Capped is often one of the first species beginning birders learn being common, energetic, social and easy to identify by ear and eye. The birds are particularly noticeable during winter, when they form flocks of 4-16 individuals. This group will forage collectively across a home range all winter, until they pair up and disperse to breeding territories in early spring. There is a strong, linear hierarchy in the winter flock; the “top” bird can and will chase off all others from a food source at times. The second-to-top individual can harass all others, except “number one”, and so on.

As we head into winter, it is important to look at the survival strategies and adaptations the Black Capped uses to get through a very difficult time of year. These are animals with a small body mass living in environments where it is possible to reach temperatures well below zero. An average bird weighs between 9-14 grams, making it an exception to the ecological principal that species tend to have larger bodies the further north you find them. To overcome the potential for winter mortality (sometimes 70% a year!) the bird caches a significant amount of food. The ability to recall potentially thousands of cache locations requires some special abilities; research in recent years has demonstrated that the hippocampus in Chickadee brains grow by about 30% in the fall, when the need to store food across the landscape becomes pronounced. The reverse happens in springtime; effectively, the hippocampus shrinks and a memory wipe occurs. The ability of Chickadees and other birds to seasonally grow and absorb brain cells has excited neuroscientists eager to find applications to help humans suffering from certain brain conditions.

As the mercury falls, these birds are also capable of entering a daily torpor called “regulated hypothermia”. After consuming between 10% and 60% of its body weight during the day, Chickadees will lower their core body temperature by up to 15 degrees Fahrenheit, slowing its metabolic rate substantially. It will then burn the calories accumulated during the day by shivering all night long. The birds may consume nearly all of their body fat in this manner each day, if it is cold enough. Chickadees will often huddle together with their own kind in protected roosts or cavities to survive winter. In extreme cold, the birds will stop foraging altogether, hunker down and wait things out.

Communication amongst this species is highly complex. Studies suggests that they can recognize and communicate the relative threat level a potential predator poses by the number of “dee-dee’s” they attach to their calls. Another unique behavior is the well known “mobbing” that Chickadees will inflict upon an unlucky predator such as a Boreal Owl. This usually has the effect of running the threat out of the neighborhood.

For me, there is something endearing about seeing these birds in winter, since they remain where so many others do not. You have to hand it to the resourcefulness and pluck of the little guys; they inspire our affection with their social nature, their ease around us and their welcome company in the winter woods especially. The remind us also, to not take the common for granted.

David Cronenwett is a Writer, Naturalist and Wilderness Survival Instructor from Choteau, Montana. He can be reached at: dcronenwett@hotmail.com

Birds of the Front: Prairie Falcon

2010-12-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

Description: Uncommon in open deserts, grasslands and agricultural land. Nests on cliff ledges. Solitary. Hunts from perch, from low contouring flight, or from high in the air. Feeds mainly on small mammals such as ground squirrels, but also takes many birds and some insects. Distinguished from Peregrine by sandy brown color and underwing coverts. –From the Sibley Guide to Birds.

The Family Falconidae holds a special place in the hearts of many birders. These are earth’s fastest creatures, exhibiting unequaled precision and grace. The falcons that occur in Montana share similarities in body structure with subtle differences in habitat preference and hunting strategies. While the Peregrine gets a lot of attention, the slightly smaller and more common Prairie Falcon (Falco mexicanus) is just as deserving of our appreciation. If you spot a sandy colored falcon with distinctly dark armpits (i.e. underwing coverts), you’ve got a Prairie in your optics.

Aptly named, this bird is a year-round resident of Montana’s native grasslands. Breeding typically begins with a noisy courtship in early March and an average clutch of 3-5 eggs comes late April. Incubation, done mostly by the larger female, lasts about a month. It is not an accident that these birds, like many other species, time the birth of their young with the emergent greenup of the landscape; it is the time of year with the most abundant energy, in the form of prey. Prairie Falcons do not build their own nests; they often choose a spot on a high cliff, beneath an overhang if possible. Their eggs are highly tapered at one end (pyriform), which means if nudged, they will tend to spin in place rather than roll away. A handy adaptation when living on the edge.

Threats to this bird are the same as for other grassland inhabitants; invasive species, habitat conversion and potentially, wind and other energy development. Mercifully, they seem to be unaffected by the pesticide-related population declines that have plagued other species like its cousin, the Peregrine.

During the warmer months, the Prairie Falcon is known as an effective predator of the humble Richardson’s Ground Squirrel (Spermophilus richardsonii) and occasionally, larger insects. The bird can be found hunting smaller passerines like Horned Larks during winter. Unlike other falcons with spectacular “stooping” displays, the Prairie generally hunts low to the ground, using its uncanny eyesight (it has the largest eye for its size of any falcon) and remarkable maneuverability to surprise and kill its prey. Like all falcons, the Prairie has a notched, “tomial tooth” near the end of its bill. The purpose of this adaptation is simple; to decapitate its prey, which it does with great efficiency. Though it is no Peregrine, (which can reach speeds pushing 200 mph in a dive) the Prairie Falcon isn’t what we’ll call an avian slug either.

I witnessed this bird’s speed at close range a few years back while assisting with a birding tour on the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve. The area is a lovely mix of fen-wetlands, prairie and rock outcrops on the Rocky Mountain Front. We stopped by the side of the road to follow some Sharp-Tailed Grouse that had just scurried across. After sneaking up and flushing the birds, we heard a pair of Marbled Godwits squawking. We figured that we were near a nest (Godwits do so on the ground) and backed off a bit. Still the birds squawked with great fervor, continuously. It was then that someone noticed a Prairie Falcon about ¼ mile away on a low, sandstone ridge. This seemed pretty far for the Godwits to care much about or even notice its presence. Then it happened; the Prairie shot off its perch, covering that distance in about 4 seconds. It hit the nest, which had been completely invisible to us, removed one of the young, and broke its spine to make flying with the load easier. The whole operation was over so quickly, we had to stop and mentally process what we’d just seen. The parent Godwits were understandably, not pleased. Such is the nature of the great Energy Exchange; baby Falcons have to eat too.

Next time you visit Montana’s grasslands, keep an eye out for the resident Prairie Falcon; one of our many awe-inspriring raptors.

David Cronenwett is a Writer, Naturalist and Wilderness Survival Instructor from Choteau, Montana. He can be reached at: dcronenwett@hotmail.com

Birds of the Front: Sprague's Pipit

2010-11-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

Description: Uncommon and local. Nests and winters on shortgrass prairie with bare ground. Solitary and secretive; very difficult to see as it crouches in grass, foraging. Drab/cryptic coloring but with white outer tail feathers visible in flight. Song is a rolling cascade of high, dry whistles. –From the Sibley Guide to Birds.

The Sprague’s Pipit (Anthus spragueii) is a native inhabitant of Montana’s eastern prairies. It’s story and precipitous population decline, mirrors the story of grassland habitats across the continent. Taxonomically, the bird is classed in the Family Motacillidae; Wagtails and Pipits. Wagtails differ significantly in appearance from their Pipit relatives, being sexually dimorphic and males brightly colored. While structurally and behaviorally similar, the plumage of Pipits is cryptic and drab. This combined with their habits of nesting and foraging amongst the grass, has made Sprague’s Pipits one of the least observed or studied birds in North America.

In contrast to its bland appearance, this Pipit has the longest known display of any bird on earth; reports cite events from 30 minutes to 3 hours at a go. The males will fly hundreds of feet above the prairie before erupting in one of the most haunting and lovely sounds in all of Montana; a descending, liquidy-cascade, whose beauty can’t be captured on a recording. It can only be described, like the cry of the Curlew, as a musical expression of the land itself. In this open, treeless environment, the sustained flight display is an elegant adaptation to draw attention to oneself. For birders, the Sprague’s Pipit’s voice is the only reliable way to even find this animal in the vast landscapes it inhabits. You stop at a suitable, native prairie, get out of the vehicle and listen. If fortunate, you’ll hear the song. But finding them in binoculars, hundreds of feet in the sky is another matter entirely!

The future of these creatures, like all of our grassland species, will depend largely on how we decide to conserve and manage habitat and the ecosystem processes upon which organisms depend. There has been an 80% population loss of Sprague’s Pipits in 40 years; this represents one of the steepest declines of any bird in North America. The most current estimate (2004) suggests that 840,000 individuals may exist across its entire range from Mexico to the Canadian prairies. The reasons for the decline are legion; habitat loss due to subdivision, agricultural conversion, fragmentation from oil-gas-wind development, invasive species out-competing native vegetation, poor grazing practices, fire suppression and others.

But a more fundamental, underlying cause for the loss is that our culture has not yet developed a meaningful affection for or love of prairies. These are lands upon which we have created a civilization; growing grain, developing energy and building communities. But we’re only beginning to see ecological or aesthetic values in grasslands. We recreate in, conserve and rhapsodize about our mountains and even named our state after them, but have mostly neglected and laid waste to the grass. It’s subtle beauty and rich ecology has been reduced to about 1% of the historic continental range, but many of the healthiest fragments are here, in Montana.

A ray of hope for Sprague’s Pipit is the recent listing as a Candidate Species under the Endangered Species Act. While this is only a preliminary move towards Federal intervention with full protection, it is a significant step and will certainly influence State and other land managers who are responsible for grassland bird conservation. We can also do our part individually, by advocating for native grassland protection, management and appreciation. Next time you find yourself on the prairie in late spring, listen for the song of Sprague’s Pipit, then go home and do something to ensure its music continues.

David Cronenwett is a Writer, Naturalist and Wilderness Survival Instructor from Choteau, Montana. He can be reached at: dcronenwett@hotmail.com

Birds of the Front: Red Crossbill

2010-11-04T14:06:00.000-07:00

Description: Uncommon and very irregular. Always in flocks. Feeds on conifer seeds. Larger than House and Purple Finches; relatively large-headed and short tailed. Bill size varies with population. Rather dark reddish or greenish overall with plain dark wings and tail. –From the Sibley Guide to Birds.

The winter of 2009-2010 was troublesome in Montana due to mild temperatures and scant mountain snowpack. But then, in mid May, it began to rain, and did so on and off for weeks on end. The extended period of moisture caught us up on precipitation and, at least in North Central Montana where I live, helped produce one of the most impressive conifer cone eruptions in recent memory. The limbs of Douglas fir, Limber Pine, Englemann Spruce and others are ridiculously laden with cones this year, and as birders might guess, this situation is a boon for several species.

Chickadees, nuthatches, Clark’s Nutcrackers and Pine Siskins can be seen feeding on the bounty hereabouts. But one beast is especially abundant and visible now; the Red Crossbill (Loxia curvirostra). These gregarious birds are included in the family Fringillidae, (the finches) and have remarkable bills obviously adapted to the specific task of dismembering conifer cones. This year on the Rocky Mountain Front, one can observe large flocks of Crossbills (both White Winged and Red, often together) absolutely mauling cones across a huge area; in some places, there are cone piles several inches deep, with their telltale open scales, evidence of Crossbill activity. These birds will famously travel great distances seeking abundant crops and exhibit some unusual behaviors like the ability of sub-adults, in juvenile plumage, to mate and raise young in nearly all seasons. This may be an adaptation stemming from the highly nomadic nature of the bird; it must reproduce quickly, before moving on to the next feeding ground.

The most astonishing thing about this bird however, are the several “Types” (1 through 9) that occur across its vast range. Most ornithologists do not recognize the Types (but for one) as distinct species or even subspecies; there simply are not significant enough differences within the variants to do so…yet there are differences. Nine variations have been described; the morphological distinctions are minute, mostly reflected in bill size. But each Type nearly always identifies and mates with the same. Also, the Types have strong feeding preferences for particular conifers. However this behavior can vary and shouldn’t be used as a dependable means of identification. The most reliable way to discern between Types is by flight calls.

I personally have great difficulty determining the call subtleties between the two Types (4 & 5) that are present in my area. But recently, I was able spend some time in the field with my friend David Sibley who was able to point out what to listen for. After significant repetition, I was able to recognize each; one call slightly ascending, one descending. I shake my head at my guide’s uncommon observational powers as well as the subtlety with which species diversify and express themselves across the landscape. With Red Crossbills, we seem to be witnessing evolutionary incarnation before our eyes; the Types are “species in the making”, a gray area we find hard to classify, but where Nature seems to frequently and comfortably operate.

Field & Stream

2010-09-13T22:08:00.000-07:00

The October, 2010 edition of Field & Stream features a survival article, "Testing Ground" by Keith McCafferty, featuring David. The article explores some wilderness survival concepts we discussed while on a training trip up the Middle Fork of the Teton River in Montana in August 2009. Click the link to check it out!

New Website!

2010-09-10T20:16:00.000-07:00

Hello All! I haven't posted in months, but have been busy at the guest ranch, finishing up the insane, no-respite, 25-week season. That's a lot of natural history interpretation. I'm also (re) starting a new (old) business; Wilderness Arts Institute; our new website outlines bushcraft & wilderness survival courses in Montana, natural history programs and more. Check it out! And stay tuned for some more thoughtful writing on this Aerie Mountain Blog in the coming days!

www.wildernessartsinstitute.com

The Names

2010-05-05T10:25:00.001-07:00

Walking the foothills on the East Slope of the Rockies, I notice early-season wildflowers poking through the snow. At the moment, I enjoy just taking in the beauty of these creatures, letting myself see them unadorned by names and attendant associations. I want only to experience the wash of color and intensity of purpose these plants exhibit in their surge of life. And here, with the last fits of winter beginning to fade, nothing feels more right. This childlike wonder doesn't last long however, as a word quickly comes to mind; Douglasia.

We are probably Earth's only animal that uses a symbolic code, in the form oflanguage, to interpret, understand and convey information of one sort or another. But this is a sterile, mechanistic description of our species' most exceptional achievement; the development of mind and soul. It is difficult to imagine functioning for very long in the world without using language to find our way. Our thoughts, our literature and our experience of life is intimately tied to language. And it all begins, when we are very young, with the act of mimicking intonation patterns and then, naming the world around us.

In previous posts, I've noted that landscapes and their living communities will never be entirely knowable or "nameable". However, we should also recognize the purpose and utility that attaching names to species has for people. Many common and binomial names can convey information useful as a mnemonic (memory) device; helpful to those of us trying to remember the names of hundreds of species. The common name, Arrowleaf Balsamroot, for example, says something obvious about the plant known to science as Balsamifera sagitatta in the same way that an interesting place name might tell us about a town or locale. But naming living things just for the sake of doing so really isn't the point . Naming nature binds us directly to it. We begin human relationships in the same way; by learning another's name. It is the first step in the development of kinship, affection and love, which is ultimately the reason we bother with the business of living at all: to be connected to the world.

Names, while merely human symbols, help to create understanding in our minds, particularly when dealing with infinitely complex natural systems. It is our way of holding on to something profoundly larger than ourselves. This need for order, attachment and meaning, led to the development of Taxonomy; the logical classification system of organisms that we use today. The names can also have a musical quality, such as Eritrichium howardii. And with such lovely sounds, we can honor the object to which we attach a name. At our best, we are both creators and recognizers of beauty. While all things are ephemeral in the end, the naming of other beings seems to be for us a way to acknowledge and honor this beauty. Beauty, that is often so overwhelming, we stand agape, in awe of it.

A Land In Between

2010-03-31T14:45:00.000-07:00

On the trail during the busy guest season, it's not uncommon to hear the question, "so, what exactly is the Rocky Mountain Front?" and more often then not, I have to pause and think about how to answer. "Where the Rocky Mountains collide with the Northern Prairies" is the easy way out, but there is so much going on here on multiple scales, that it is not the most complete or honest response.

How we define things is important since it gives us a sense of understanding our world. We are "namers" after all, language being our most important tool for taking in, processing and passing on information. But when it comes to Nature, our words and ideas don't always adequately reflect ecological complexity and nuance. For one thing, this place, with its habitat blending and varied ownership of public and private lands, defies many of our preconceived notions about conservation. Our civilization tends to either protect land with some kind of formal designation (National Park, Wilderness, etc.) or exploit it (industrial logging, oil and gas development, etc.) But on the Front (whatever that is), we have a graceful mixture of uses including ranching, limited-scale tourism, outfitting, hunting, fishing, habitat conservation and other forms of recreation. In Montana, the most important land protection tool from the standpoint of The Nature Conservancy, is the conservation easement. This allows traditional ranching activities to continue on a property as it has for generations, while removing the subdivision threat in perpetuity. As I'm fond of saying, we grow both cows and grizzly bears here, with limited conflict, which is an amazing feat.

The Front blurs ecological, cultural and historical lines, because it is a mixing zone like no other. For example, deciding what "wild" is becomes problematic here. The Bob Marshall Wilderness to the west was designated in 1964, but it is marginal habitat in many ways for creatures like grizzly bears, especially when compared to the lower elevation prairies. Should we then call the lowlands, largely comprised of private ranches, domesticated? Most times of the year, you are more likely to see bears and other big creatures in this grassland habitat, along with its few roads, sprinkling of ranch buildings and many cows than in the high country. While designated Wilderness is one thing, wildness, like the presence of large carnivores in unsuspecting places, is more mysterious and trickier to quantify or define.

In Nature,we are forced to directly question our predication towards bi-modal, "this or that" thinking. And around these parts, in the midst of an enormousecotone, the gray often seems to outweigh the black or white. There are plant species that freely hybridize (like genera Populus, Salix & Castelleja) making identification notoriously difficult. And often, organisms show up in habitats where they just "aren't supposed to be". Like the Scissor Tailed Flycatcherspotted along the Bellview cutacross road last year or the many grassland plants we observe in the high mountains. Then there are the strange behaviors of mammals; such as the propensity of our beavers here to use rocks in their dam building. What I've discovered during my time on the landscape is that it is more useful to embrace the concept of Tendency when studying living systems, because in ecology (like physics), depending on the context, laws seem to bend and flow more freely than we sometimes like to imagine.

Even defining what a species is has flummoxed taxonomists since the beginning of science. But this doesn't mean Nature is totally chaotic or unknowable either. Creatures, ecosystems and natural processes tend to follow predictable patterns, but with many surprising exceptions. On the Rocky Mountain Front, an elemental place of wind, forest, mountains and grass, there is a lovely ambiguity in how life expresses itself; changing subtly with each twist and turn of topography or elevation. Here is the physical expression of Paradox, where understanding and unknowing is a living poetry.

Deep Time

2010-02-16T09:14:00.000-08:00

Aspen clones are considered by some to be the earth's longest-lived, individual organism.

"I only have time for eternity." -Thomas Merton

Last summer while leading a workshop on traditional plant uses, the group & I stopped at a rock which had been flipped on end by a bear. This is classic sign of these beasts; evidence of "grubbing" which bears spend much of their time doing. This particular rock had probably been upended last spring. I crouched down to talk about bear behavior when Annette, a guest and participant in the workshop, bent over and picked up a 2.5 centimeter long, perfectly preserved chert arrowhead immediately next to the rock I'd stopped by a hundred times.

Our jaws collectively dropped as the synchronous nature of the moment sunk in. We'd been spending the week learning about Native people and their subsistence life way by gathering wild foods and crafting with local plant species. Now here we stood, beneath Indian Head Rock, with a nearly 1000-year old, Blackfeet projectile point staring us in the face. The intactness of the piece was truly remarkable; a tiny bit had broken off at its base, but it was otherwise as sharp and usable as the day it was created.

I tried to imagine a scenario to explain how this beautiful artifact might have come to rest atop Alice Ridge so long ago. Perhaps a Blackfeet hunter was trailing Bighorn Sheep or buffalo, sat down to lunch on jerky and the point fell out of a buckskin bag of spares. Or perhaps he nocked an arrow, preparing for a shot at a large animal bedded down behind a limber pine, that turned out to be a grizzly. Tables turned, he drops his equipment and runs. However it happened, I've been thinking about that arrowhead a lot lately, because it represents a different timescale; the Blackfeet have existed as a cultural group in Montana for approximately 5000 years; much longer than our current civilization has been around. And the brief tenure of Pine Butte Guest Ranch along the South Fork Teton, is likewise trivial by comparison. That long-ago hunter lived in a wild landscape teaming with large numbers of animals like bison. But, it was also a place that had radically changed, biologically speaking, thousands of years before he ever set foot on Alice Ridge.

The idea of Deep Time can be useful for us to understand the "big picture", but it can be confusing and frequently disconcerting. Imagine a Montana landscape not with the massive bison herds of 200 years ago, but rather 15,000 years back with its camels, mammoths, mastodons, sloths, dire wolves, American lions, hyenas, llamas, horses and many, many others. Most of the species present here today coexisted with the 35 or so genera of mammals that disappeared around the time when significant pulses of human migration into North America occurred. New research, while not decisively proving that bipeds were solely responsible, has ruled out some long-held beliefs about the great Megafaunal extinctions in North America. A legitimate question might now be raised; which landscape is more Natural? Pre-mass-extinction, or post?

And there were other great die-offs around these parts. A drive down the Bellview Road east toward Choteau, will bring one to Egg Mountain, an important paleontological site in the Willow Creek Anticline. It's a short walk up to the exposed nesting sites of the Maiasaura, which are still visible. These duck-billed dinosaurs shared the Late Cretaceous landscape 75 million years ago with a pantheon of long-gone beasts such as Gorgosaurus and Euoplocephalus to name only two. An inland seaway lapped at the feet of the Rocky Mountains then, which would have appeared significantly taller had any human been around to notice. The flora and fauna at this time would have been completely alien to us today. It puts an interesting spin on the idea of land conservation, which tries to conserve ecosystems and populations over time. But on what scale? Why do we engage in this work, knowing the ultimate fate of species? Looking west from Egg Mountain, the peaks and reefs of the Front stare back. And their genesis began at still another timescale; about 500 million years ago on the bottom of an ancient ocean. There are Proterozoic rocks in Glacier Park to the north which are about 1.4 billion years old.

Human symbols, like language and mathematical systems are useful tools for understanding the cosmos, but are inherently limited and flawed. Since we cannot truly grasp a sense of time beyond our own lives, you have to ask yourself what knowing that some geologic formation is over a billion years old really means. In truth, we have no way to comprehend a Deep Time perspective. Some folks have even tried to dismiss conservation work by suggesting that the Earth itself will continue to exist in some form, with or without us, and that we should find solace in this fact. But in reality, the planet in addition to our solar system and Universe, has a cataclysmic fate in store. The question now becomes, what do we do with this understanding? Do we take from it a depressing, Ultimate Meaninglessness?

Turning back to the human timescale, I'm reminded of the Blackfeet hunter, who was also confronted by these fundamental questions of being. We'll never know what he was thinking the day he wandered Alice Ridge. But like him, we cannot live in the deep past or future for very long before being pulled back to the present. Yet the question remains; how are we to live, knowing our time here is finite? Though life can be cruel and appear futile at times, our mortal task seems to involve finding meaning and creating a compassionate world while we're here. And for many of us, an affection for and kinship with Nature is a big part of that equation. The hunter would have understood and accepted the harsh realities of life and the often heartbreaking beauty of this world as two sides of the same coin. And we should do likewise.

Our work today is to hang on to the living systems of the Front (and elsewhere) for as long as we can, while realizing they will inevitably change over time. When I walk that country again, I'll be thinking about chert arrowheads and the infinite number of hidden stories this place mostly keeps to itself. Swallowed whole, by a landscape of memory.

My Left Foot: Bipedalism Revisited

2010-01-22T19:11:00.001-08:00

The aftermath of PTTD Surgery: 8 titanium screws and a titanium wedge and bone graft. My calf muscle also had to be lengthened to accomodate the newly created arch in the foot.

I haven't written much in a while and it hasn't been for lack of time. Over the past two years, I've had a pretty serious problem just getting around on two feet; anything more than a mile or so of walking produced a jabbing pain around the inside of my left foot. It was getting to the point by last fall that I began to wonder if now, at 40, my days of strolling over hill and dale were coming to a close. It was then that I finally gave in to the idea of having PTTD surgery to correct the problem.

Walking on two feet, or bipedalism, arose in hominids between 4-6 million years ago. It was an enormous change in the evolution of ape-like creatures. The freeing up of the hands allowed for more efficient food gathering, tool development and a host of other evolutionary benefits. While many of our chimp & ape ancestors can stand or walk bipedally for brief periods, it was a path that only our kind has run with.

In the natural world, every adaptation is a trade off; in this case, our early predecessors gave up a great deal of speed by hanging on to upright locomotion. But what was gained by the walking biped was endurance. The earliest means of bringing down a large animal, before sophisticated projectile weapons, was persistence hunting, a method still practiced by the San people in Africa. (Clicking on the link will bring you to a short film from the BBC's Planet Earth of a San kudu hunt; a remarkable piece.)

In certain environments, (think savannah and prairie) this kind of hunting would have enabled humans to track and run down any fleet footed quadraped. Bodies of four footed animals more efficiently absorb heat via the earth but lose it less well by convection. Also, an upright human absorbs less radiant energy from the sun (less surface area) simply by being vertical. This translates into a better ability to thermoregulate for us while quadrapedal mammals will tend to overheat if pressed over distance. Next time you see an elk take off across the prairie during hunting season, think to yourself, "go ahead and run...".

Our finely tuned manual dexterity was likely a result of walking on two feet; now that all propulsion was confined to the legs, our hands could begin to realize (for better or for worse) the visions in our minds. Tools, craft and symbols could be projected externally and in many ways our lives became easier.

The feet, of course, are the foundation of this beautiful, "controlled falling"-type of movement which is such a large part of what makes us human. Having been on crutches for 7 weeks, I've thought quite a bit about what it means to get around on two feet, and how debilitating it is to be thus limited. The screws in my foot are supposed to correct the flattened arch and allow me (in another few months time) to walk many miles. But the experience of surgery and the physical discomfort associated with it has given me pause.

I'd never known that such unrelenting, merciless pain was possible and how much more profound it must be for those suffering afflictions far worse than mine. The heavy drugs that messed with my head and GI tract was the thin veil that stood between agony and an ability to cope. And the helplessness of not being able to perform simple tasks; not being able to drive, to do dishes, not being able to do much of anything but sit there while family tended to my basic needs, was humbling. I find myself thinking more about those less fortunate as well as what old age may have in store. The whole experience has given me a new perspective on the fragility of the body and forced a consideration what suffering is and ultimately, what compassion could be.

The metal will be in my foot for the rest of my life and strangely, this fact speaks to impermanence. When my son, after a long bipedal climb, spreads my ashes on the summit of Aerie Mountain, he may hear the sound of titanium screws striking limestone, before they and mortal remains, like our mountains, are blown eastward to the prairie. I wonder what he'll be thinking then.

The Island of Knowledge

2009-12-02T08:39:00.000-08:00

Pine Butte in the Evening. Photo by Simon Williams

Sitting atop Guthrie Ridge, staring at Pine Butte over a mile away leaves one with the unambiguous feeling that the sandstone object rising from the ocean of prairie is an island. A blanket of Limber Pine that shrouds its top adds to the effect. The pines owe their existence to the higher elevation of the butte, which translates into more annual moisture than on the grass below...which enables the place to support tree growth. In fact, it is one of the few such formations along the Front that hosts a robust population of pines. The classic definition of an island is a body of land completely surrounded by water. There are however, other kinds to consider; islands of habitat for example. In this case, the butte is an island of Savannah habitat in a sea of Intermountain Grassland. For conservationists, this idea is discussed in terms of human disturbance; the "sea" is human-degraded land and the "island" is relatively healthy habitat. The science known as Island Biogeography was developed in the 1960's by ecologists E.O. Wilson and Robert MacArthur. It along with the study of Conservation Biology, is the basis for how many lands are conserved and managed today.

From this perspective, the healthiest habitats are usually those that are unfragmented and "linked" by corridors to other habitats. When these islands shrink and become isolated, ecological integrity often declines and species disappear. Habitat islands can be viewed on many scales; Manhattan's Central Park is on one end of the spectrum. The 10 million-acre Crown of the Continent ecosystem, of which the Rocky Mountain Front is a part, is on another and Antarctica is another still. The creation of these habitat islands on Earth is a relatively new phenomenon; it really wasn't very long ago when the reverse was true, that is, civilizations were islands in "oceans" of relatively wild landscapes. Of course, many people today tend to value these habitat islands not only for their biological attributes, but also as refuges for our sanity.

In human culture, islands of one sort or another have been viewed as joyful paradises of recreation like Hawaii, or remote, isolated places unfit for people. Some have been considered sacred; Patmos Island in Greece, is home to the Monastery of St. John the Divine, where the disciple reportedly experienced revelation in the Cave of the Apocalypse. For Northwest Coast tribes, some islands hold special meaning as vision quest sites or burial grounds. In modern civilization, places like Alcatraz or Three Mile Island bring different images to mind.

Pine Butte's isolation on the grassland is as striking as it is haunting. It is the mantelpiece of the surrounding 16,000-acre Preserve, an area with remarkable biological and aesthetic values, one which has special significance to me. I've walked up that butte many times and have experienced just about every one of its moods; beautiful and calm, rain, snow, howling wind. And it has never ceased to surprise me by the appearance of an unusual plant species, a strange rock formation, an improbable bit of animal sign. The comprehensive study of Natural History and ecology here is a Sisyphean task: even continual, sustained field time and book-learning of flora, fauna, geology, all of it, can sometimes leave one with a feeling of great inadequacy. In fact, there seems to be a proportional relationship going on. That is, the more this place is studied, the more elusive it becomes.

Albert Einstein is quoted as saying, "As our circle of knowledge expands, so does the circumference of darkness surrounding it." And this brings us to yet another island. What Einstein was implying is not only the realization that as knowledge is accumulated, there is a corresponding realization of an infinite unknown, but also that one should draw from this a profound sense of humility. It is a concise statement about not confusing knowledge with wisdom. And it seems to say, "In all things, proceed with caution."

For a few years now, I've been giving our visitors at the guest ranch a slightly different version of this idea: "The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of ignorance". It's a great line, very handy for those teachable moments in the field. Unfortunately, I've been mis-quoting it; the actual words, by American geographer Ralph W. Stockman are slightly different. "The larger the island of knowledge," he says, "the longer the shoreline of wonder." I think that pretty much nails it.

This post can also be viewed on the Pine Butte Blog

The Ecology of Wind

2009-11-20T09:17:00.000-08:00

The movement of air, born of Earth's perpetual cycles of heating and cooling, is what we know and experience as Wind. This invisible force of Nature is globally present and its effects on our planet are both subtle and profound. On the largest scale, wind directly affects climate and weather; the Gulf Stream, that Atlantic "river" of warm water flowing from the Caribbean to northern Europe, is set into motion by wind action. One of the results of this is that climate patterns on much of the Continent (the Mediterranean, British Isles, etc.) are ridiculously mild, especially given their northern latitudes. Powerful Trade Winds that scour the great deserts of Africa send enormous quantities of particulate westward, across the Atlantic which can block insolation from the sun, sometimes cooling areas in North America.

Recent studies strongly suggest that bacteria, which are transported into the atmosphere by Earth's winds, serve as the bulk of nucleation (condensation) sites for precipitation; that is, about 80% of the material that must be present for it to rain or snow anywhere on the planet is biological, and this stuff can only get where it needs to be by the grace of wind. On the Rocky Mountain Front, the effects of wind are always at hand. It, along with fire and precipitation, is the most influential force of change on the landscape. For much of the year, as air masses move from west to east, over the mountains and toward the prairie, they are funneled through our canyons. When a gas or liquid is forced through a constriction, it rapidly accelerates. This is called the Venturi effect and it is pronounced along the Front.

Where it is not anchored by grasses or other vegetation, wind will move significant quantities of soil across the land. A particle will travel until it finds a protected area such as a gully or the lee side of a hill and come to rest. The same thing happens with snow; the rare winter visitor will notice that a uniform blanket of snowfall doesn't stick around for very long on the prairie. (And this is a major boon for grazing animals who need exposed grasslands to survive.) Once wind becomes sustained, the white stuff will blow about and form very large drifts, often in the same locations where soil accumulates. These soil and snow deposition zones are important ecologically, since deeper soils and extra water over time translates in to more lush vegetation and therefore greater species diversity.

Plants and animals that live here must adapt to our frequent and often intense winds. A windy environment is very hard on native flora. The desiccating effects of wind can create near-desert conditions and cause outright physical damage to plants. Probably the most iconic example of a wind-adapted species on the Front is the Limber Pine (Pinus flexilis), for which the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve is named. This tree pumps a great deal of resin into its extremities, which gives it exceptional pliability. Since the needle-bearing limbs are the photosynthetic engine of the organism, it is critical that they be able to bend (and not break) when the gusts come. We should also note that it is the persistent, invisible hand of the wind that sculpts Limber Pine into the lovely, Bonsai-form it takes in these parts. While wind can be a hindrance to plant growth, it can also assure the continuity of many species. There may be hundreds of plants in the Northern Rockies which have adapted their pollen and seed dispersal strategies with the wind; an incalculable vector for genetic exchange and dissemination for sure.

The effects of high wind on fauna is noticeable; typically we are not able to observe much wildlife on a windy day, probably because it negatively affects the senses of hearing and smell which animals rely upon far more than we do. Usually the larger creatures (bears, elk, moose, deer) stay bedded down or otherwise remain close to cover on windy days. People too, have a general disdain for wind past a certain threshold. For the hunter, wind can camouflage the sounds one might make crawling through brush, but it can also make it impossible to hear the object of one's pursuit. Wind has played a significant role in human culture and civilization; it has affected the outcome of wars, powered mills, driven wildland fires and enabled the exploration of the world by sea. Today, Montana is witnessing a huge push to develop our wind resources for energy. While wind power will play an important role in the shift away from dependence on fossil fuels, if done improperly, it could have significant ecological impacts to grasslands, rare birds and bats.

Traditional Blackfeet, who have a unique, deep-time relationship with Miistakis, (The Backbone of the World-aka: The Rocky Mountain Front) consider it the dwelling place of Wind Maker. And if you've ever spent any time here outside of summer, you understand why. It was a fundamental force of Nature that constantly shaped the land and its people. Of course, it still is. Many of us who live here consider the wind to be something of a guardian of this place; an omnipresent factor that keeps the human population sustainably low. We can physically feel this ethereal force that seems both real and elusive. Depending on the context, it can be perceived as destructively "bad" (as in a major storm) or mercifully "good" (a cool breeze on a hot day). In this way and by the fact that wind possesses both a predictable and unpredictable nature, it does seem to be somehow alive. People have understood wind to be a harbinger of change, to represent freedom or provoke madness, and as embodying a sense of impermanence. I think it is no accident that in the past Wind, in the form of breath, was universally considered as the basic animating principal of Life itself; remember, the term for "breath" in Latin translates literally as spirit.

This post can also be viewed on the Pine Butte Blog

Hunting For Meaning

2009-10-27T09:45:00.000-07:00

Snow now blankets the higher peaks of the Front and will likely remain there until early summer. Our local wildlife has several ways of dealing with the onset of colder Rocky Mountain weather. An organism can up and leave (think sandhill crane migration), store food (the lowly but adorable Pika), adapt and work hard (elk, deer, moose) or make a major physiological change: hibernation (bears, ground squirrles). The bears of the Front are still out and about trying to pack on as many calories as possible before the long sleep of winter. Their bodies are currently in a state called "hyperphagia" and the bruins may actively search for food up to 20 hours per day before packing it in to the den.

The human strategy for dealing with winter mostly falls into the food-storage catagory. Thus, as the seasonal change progresses, many Montanans are engaging in the yearly ritual of hunting big game, particularly deer and elk. Our state has the highest per-capita number of hunters of any, including Alaska. To a rural community like Choteau, this translates into some very real economic impacts; outfitters, sporting goods stores, game processors, motels and others, directly benefit from the influx of hunters.

Men and women choose to hunt for many reasons. Some are as basic as putting healthy, organic meat in the freezer to feed the family for another year. The simple joy of being out in the autumn landscape with friends and loved ones is often cited as one of the greatest pleasures in life for Montana hunters. Others may find active participation in the Food Web to be important, since we are mostly uninvolved with the production or harvest of our sustenance in modern society. For many, the act of killing an animal to sustain their own body is a deeply humbling, spiritual task that vividly reminds us of life's preciousness...and of our own mortality.

For this hunter, all of the above reasons are what motivate me to partake in the chase. Whatever our ancestry, if we go back far enough, we find that humans are a species that has hunted to live, and lived to hunt. Most of our evolutionary time on planet earth (about 98% of it) has been in pursuit of game. While some are uncomfortable with the idea of killing animals for any reason in today's world, hunting does represent an unbroken chain of connectivity with our ancestors and fellow hunters such as bears, lions and wolves to name a few. For me, the pursuit forces me to examine my ethics in the most real way. How and why I do this is critical and I constantly reexamine the reasons. In traditional hunting cultures for example, it is recognized that no pleasure is ever taken in ending an animal's life and sincere thanks must be given for the profound gift that the hunter recieves. It is a moral code worth following.

While most people don't hunt in the modern world as we did in the past, the impulse to seek, that is, to hunt, is irrepressible. The endless pursuit of knowledge, success, love, wisdom and meaning is universal among our kind. And speaking for myself, actually being out there hunting, (which in Montana means the possibility of also being hunted by fellow carnivores) is the most tactile, visceral way to engage in the Great Round of Life.

When early November comes, I'll be out on the Pine Butte Preserve stalking whitetails and thinking many thoughts. And I'll do my best to be there with pure intentions, in a good way.

This post can also be viewed on the Pine Butte Blog

Sacred Geography

2009-10-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

The busy summer season has ended and, save the sounds of autumn, the Guest Ranch is silent. This is a time of ecological transition along the Front; days are shortening and the flora and fauna are responding to less sunlight and cooler tempratures. Our trees are sliding into their "hardening phase"; a type of dormancy that allows them to resist cell damage from freezing. Aspen and cottonwoods are putting on tremendous color shows, birds are staging in flocks to leave the country or are already gone.

There are transitions going on in the human community too. Ranchers have been shipping cattle to distant markets and hunters have begun to comb the landscape for game. Of course, children have returned to school. Fall is a prelude to the deeply introspective winter season, which is just around the corner. If you have visited the Guest Ranch before, you know it sits within a bigger landscape that is overwhelmingly beautiful and wild. The Northern Prairies abruptly collide with the Rocky Mountains here, with spectacular ecological and aesthetic results.

I've watched this place, the Rocky Mountain Front, bring people to tears many times. All cultures have in their religious traditions a concept of "Sacred Geography"; that is, places that are especially potent in a spiritual sense. In our deep past, we recognized particular caverns, mountains, springs and other natural features which spoke of "something else"; places which seemed to unify heaven and earth, where a sense of divinity is tangible. We know that there are many such places for Blackfeet people in the area; Ear Mountain is but one in a landscape overflowing with these spots.

The function of sacred places is to re-center the self, to find purpose to find meaning and to heal. In my short time as Naturalist at Pine Butte, I have noticed a near universal recognition of the Front as a Sacred Geography by our guests and others. Places like this, nearly complete ecologically and which invoke the divine for many, are rare in our world today. As important as conserving species and ecosystem processes is, we should also recognize the tremendous value this landscape has to the human spirit.

Pine Butte Guest Ranch is cradled in the canyon of the South Fork Teton and has acted as a gateway for visitors to the Front since 1930. People come from great distances to visit, and many return again and again . Now I think I know why.

This post can also be found on the Pine Butte Blog.

Wolves in Montana: The need for the hunt

2009-09-07T21:17:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy Montana FWP

The upcoming wolf hunting season in Montana, which begins in the backcountry on September 15th, will be the first ever "Fair Chase", regulated season on this important carnivore in our state's history. A quota of 75 animals has been set by the Montana Department of Fish Wildlife & Parks.

There has been a great deal of emotion flying around the decision to allow a hunt, following the de-listing of the wolf from the Endangered Species act this past May. There are essentially two sides to the argument; the "preserve the wolf at all costs" side, often populated by anti-hunting and animal-rights organizations who feel that a hunt equals extinction. Then there is the far-right position which says that wolves are a "cruel killer", annihilating all big game species and should be greatly depopulated. Both of these sides are essentially wrong.

The truth about living with Canis lupus in the modern West lies closer to the center.

Throughout the brief history of agriculture-based societies, the animal was maligned as a killer of livestock and a direct threat to human safety and progress. They were heavily persecuted by North American colonists from the earliest days of settlement. By the 1920's, the animal was largely extirpated from the contiguous 48 states. Earlier, pre-agricultural societies apparently did not view the animal in such sweepingly negative terms. The wolf in many traditional cultures was venerated as a keen and social hunter and as such, something of a kindred spirit. Early peoples may have learned hunting strategies directly from wolf societies as well as a great deal about animal behavior. And these same cultures occasionally stalked and killed the wolf, probably for the animal's hide and skull, with which they would hope to share some of its potent, mystical power.

The removal of the grey wolf from America has bankrupted the landscape ecologically and spiritually. Deer and other ungulate populations in many areas have exploded to unnaturally high levels in the wolves' absence. More people are likely injured by deer-car collisions each year than by any other wildlife encounter. Some populations of deer and elk have outstripped the carrying capacity of habitats, grazing vegetation down to nothing, and suffering from starvation and disease because of their high numbers and density.

It now appears that the presence of recovered wolf populations have directly benefitted many species from Aspen and beaver to songbirds. This is known as a "Trophic Cascade" by ecologists. Removal of top predators can have dramatic effects throughout the food web, which we are only beginning to understand. These and other legal arguments have been put forward by several environmental organizations in an effort to stop the upcoming wolf season here in Montana. The recovery goal set by the federal government for the state is 100 animals in 10 breeding pairs. The current population is estimated at about 500 individuals in 84 packs. The total number in the Northern Rockies (combined animals in Idaho, Wyoming & Montana) is about 1,600 critters.

My two cents on this contentious issue is that the best thing for the species is to allow sensible, regulated hunting at this point in time. There are a few reasons for this. First, the available habitat to sustain viable wolf populations into the future is dwindling. We're almost at the point in Montana where wolves inhabit nearly everywhere we're going to let them live. This is a wide ranging, top predator that hunts socially. The more livestock and pet depredations that occur, particularly close to communities, the less tolerance people will have for the wolf. And when tolerance wears thin, more wolves will be illegally killed. In time, there could also be human safety concerns.

While it is true that healthy wolves rarely attack humans, it is also true that there have been attacks in North America. Still, it is critical to understand that attacks are currently so rare, its almost not worth talking about. Far more people have negative and dangerous encounters with deer, bear and other animals. Still, I believe that it is necessary to remind wolves that humans should be avoided. The most practical way to accomplish this is a regulated hunting season, in addition to reasonable "predator control" actions where necessary.

The most difficult moral issue for me personally is the idea of killing such a beautiful animal and not eating it. While I might chow on canid flesh if I were in a life or death situation, it certainly isn't my first choice of wild game for the freezer. However, as part of a management strategy for the health and longevity of the population, conservationists should actively support the hunt.

This animal is a survivor, highly intelligent and can disperse incredible distances. There are now populations of wolves in Oregon and Washington state; direct descendants from the 1995-96 re-introductions to Yellowstone and Idaho. We must recognize the importance the wolf plays ecologically and socially for humans. But we must also understand that living with such an animal in the rural West is not without costs. It is not inconceivable that ranching families who are unable to run a profitable business because of excessive predation might be more likely to sell land to a developer for subdivision; and this is a far, far greater social and ecological loss than a few wolves.

Living in a ranching community, I recognize the symbolic importance of the hunt, which cannot be overstated. It says that the state of Montana will sustainably manage the wolf, just like every other large animal under their purview. In time, we will also create a constituency of wolf hunter-advocates; imagine in a decade or so, the Rocky Mountain Wolf Foundation. Who knows?

Finally, to those who consider wolves a "cruel" animal; please refrain from putting your simplistic human judgement on one of God's finest creations. While it may be unpleasant from a human perspective to see wolves grasp on to their prey (frequently by the anus) and begin to consume it while it is still living, it is a method and system that works well for this creature. Canids lack sharp, curved claws like cats to grasp animals for a "clean", spine-breaking kill. Also, it is important to remember that humans continue to be more consistently cruel and destructive toward nature and each other than any big bad wolf will ever be.

Wolves are here to stay and the population is significantly recovered. The hunt is part of an overall management strategy that will allow the species to thrive in the Northern Rockies into the future.

Wilderness Zen

2009-07-01T20:48:00.000-07:00

Me and fellow "Zen Master" Eric in the high country of the Rocky Mountain Front

“To learn about the pine,

go to the pine.

To learn about the bamboo,

go to the bamboo.”

-Basho, 17^th Century

Proficiency in the wilderness arts is important for hunters and other backcountry travelers. But we should also have an overall set of guiding principals when interacting with the land we hunt in. A discipline I call “Wilderness Zen” is a philosophic but practical approach to wilderness travel where the individual embodies quiet confidence, heightened awareness and consciously interacts towards the land with humility. This is not hippy mysticism, but a way of being that has allowed our kind to thrive in wilderness environments for a very long time.

I can't tell you how many times I've seen people listening to iPods while they travel in grizzly country. They’re ill-equipped for wilderness travel (sometimes with just a .357 or a water bottle) are generally oblivious and seem to have the attitude that they are immune to mishap. Perhaps they expect a cell phone will bail them out. This is only one kind of backcountry klutz that I have no patience for, who does everything wrong and who is diametrically opposed to the “Wilderness Zen”-approach. Folks like this are a danger to themselves and others. Below are the core values and concepts we should seek to practice when we head far afield.

The Land is the Boss. We shouldn’t be afraid about a short walk in the woods becoming a survival situation, but we should take longer trips seriously, especially day-hunts. A universal among traditional hunting cultures is that they recognize the wilderness “holds the cards”, and therefore demands respect and humility. Though it doesn’t usually happen, the land can kick your butt at any time, for no apparent reason. It is way bigger than you. Don’t forget it.

Set your safety net. Let someone know where you are going, when you expect to return and what to do if you are late in perfectly clear terms.

Know yourself. Be honest about your cardiovascular health and physical limitations. Do you have an old injury that might act up on a backcountry trip? How do you behave when stressed, tired, hungry and possibly lost? Are you quick to anger, or do you roll with adversity and act to improve things in a positive way? Don’t blame yourself needlessly for mistakes; get over it and act intelligently to turn things around.

Seek quality and order. Your equipment should be the best you can afford, from reputable manufacturers and be time-tested. Unfortunately, most of the stuff advertised as “quality outdoor gear” today is garbage. Stick to the basics: when it comes to technology that may be enlisted to save your skin, (clothing, tools, cord, firestarting materials, shelter, sleeping gear, etc.) know what you are buying, practice regularly and keep in good working order. Inspect often and replace or repair as needed. In the backcountry, you should know where every piece of equipment is at all times and keep a Spartan camp, with everything in its place. Disorder is for the lazy and careless.

Learn the land. Short but frequent exploratory trips in your hunting area will allow you to build topographic and ecological knowledge quicker and more completely than one big trip a year. If something does go wrong on a short excursion, the consequences are generally less severe due to distance from the trailhead. You should be able to use a map and compass with confidence, even if you prefer a GPS. Simple technology is more reliable in the wild. Practice route finding in a familiar area and understand some basic barehanded navigation practices: i.e., the position of the sun, location of Polaris and which direction ridges and streams trend. Develop a love for the study of maps (Topophilia) as a year-round pastime.

Be conservative. Foster a “sixth sense” for danger. Before a sketchy situation begins to unfold, stop and think, “what could go wrong here and how should I respond?” In the bush, your mind should be clear and alert. Always be sensitive to the possibility of mishap when doing something as simple as handling a sharp knife or as complex as route finding across miles of tailless terrain. Correct your mistakes before they become dangerous. Situations, like having to buck and split wood by headlamp each night should tell you that something is wrong with your planning and use of time. Understand the practice of caution and avoidance. You are the biggest threat to your own safety. Listen to your instincts; they are often correct.

Engage all senses. Quiet, slow travel is essential for good hunting. It also allows us to take in more visual, aural and scent information. Slow walking is a kind of moving meditation that can clear the mind and body of tension allowing us to focus more intently on our surroundings. Realize that we are animals with purpose who belong in the wild, just like the prey we are stalking.

Adapt. Hunters face hazards that differ from those of other wilderness users. We handle potentially dangerous tools and firearms, frequently travel off-trail and tend to recreate in what can be a precarious “shoulder” season, autumn. One particular issue worth mentioning is dealing with a large animal on the ground, miles from camp. Sometimes hunters take unnecessary risks by pulling the trigger when they are overextended. This could result in an unplanned night out in the woods, spoiled game, or worse. Be sure you have the time and means to deal with your kill in a safe manner before taking the shot. Have an adaptable plan.

Embrace training. Study the wilderness arts and make them part of your recreation. The key is to practice relevant skills with attention to detail. Most books on the subject of bushcraft are terrible, but there are some gems out there. The same goes for instruction. Seek out quality teachers who know the skills, natural history and lore of the environment that you to travel in most frequently. It doesn’t make sense to study desert survival if you mostly recreate in the Northern Rockies or the Boreal Forest.

Give thanks. Wild country is a blessing. Respect it and the beings that live there. Also, wilderness should not be irrationally feared; consider it your home and act to conserve and protect it in every way you can. Travel safely and return to educate others about the importance of hunting, natural beauty and our wildland heritage. Practice Wilderness Zen.

A version of this piece appeared in Backcountry Journal and Minnesota Whitetails in 2007 and 2008 respectively.

On Trapping

2009-05-20T16:00:00.000-07:00

The Pelt.

Two summers ago, I stood with about 13 guests in the Bellview School House on the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve and held a beaver pelt. The building houses part of our natural history collection and serves as an educational outpost on the prairie and orienting site for guests before heading out to explore the Preserve. I was about to launch into my talk about how the exploration of North America was largely driven by the search for beaver and how hugely influential this animal is to wetlands and other ecosystems wherever it occurs.

I was quickly interrupted by a guest who wanted to know how we acquired the pelt. I told her that the skin was likely donated to us by a local trapper for educational purposes, to which she replied, "...dirty bastard..." I tried not to respond in a manner that sounded defensive, since I frequently run into knee-jerk statements like this regarding such issues. I simply said, "Well, I'm a trapper." This left the guest a bit flabbergasted, awkwardly attempting to explain herself. I have found that many folks with a limited understanding of nature and rural culture, particularly if it has to do with wildlife, do not have well-informed or articulate notions about such matters. What she seemed to be saying was simply that in all cases, trappers and trapping is reprehensible and bad.

Yet, here before her stood an educator for a large and successful conservation organization...who claimed to be a trapper. Hmmm, she (like many others) seemed uncomfortable with this seemingly incongruous juxtaposition. A conservationist killer? I have taken it upon myself to challenge the ideas of people with regard to questions about humans and Nature. Specifically topics dealing with sustainability, living with predators, hunting, trapping, grazing, logging and conservation in general. And I have dealt not only with left-leaning urbanites, but right-leaning rednecks and pretty much everything in between. Never a dull moment for sure.

Few issues evoke such raw emotion as trapping. In this case, I was clearly dealing with a person who had strong feelings against trapping. In my work, it is important to be tactful and respectful of the views of others, while still being honest and direct. I began to talk about how looking at the whole ecological picture is important in forming opinions about such issues.

For example, other ways of making a living are not without their environmental impacts. I created a theoretical scenario; let's say there is a corporate lawyer who happens to have leanings towards conservation, but works for an institution which creates significant environmental impacts; an oil company, development corporation, whatever. This person, who receives a sizable paycheck, has the means to accumulate expensive material things and travel around the globe, visiting exotic nature reserves. The next person is a "local-rural-guy", who supplements his income with some beaver trapping. It gets him outside locally and as such, is part recreation and provides a service to local ranchers who would like to hang on to some of their cottonwood trees. The hunting and trapping of wildlife is managed by the state of Montana and is based on available habitat, population numbers, etc. It is not a "free for all".

So, who's livelihood has a greater impact on the land? If we examine this issue from a holistic standpoint it is a no-brainer. While the attorney's impacts are unseen and unrecognized, they are significant. I am admittedly painting a simplistic example of who might have less of an impact making their living, but am doing so to illustrate the fact that these issues are complex and often not black and white.

A group based in the Bitterroot Valley called Footloose Montana is explicitly trying to eradicate trapping in the state. There are some legitimate concerns mentioned on the website, but also a lot of hysteria in a manner similar to vehement anti-abortion folks or Islamic Jihadi-types. Most of the complaints surround the concern of domestic dogs getting into foothold or kill-type traps and this does occasionally happen. These issues will need to be dealt with by sitting down with all sides and hamming out some compromises.

Claims about trapping being "cruel" are not entirely honest. Of all the ways that animals regularly die in Nature, (starvation, disease, injury, deformity, freezing to death, predation) a well set kill trap is probably one of the least offensive and "cruel" from the perspective of the land. Foothold traps can be painful on some wildlife. I am not one who claims such implements are painless and I don't use them. Still, I recognize their usefulness in certain instances and the fact that there are "soft-grip" and other such devices available that are less likely to injure. Incidentally, we should recognize that the cruelest and most lethal agent to wildlife by far is our industrial society; if you think that you are somehow not complicit in the outright destruction of millions of living things each day, read the following roadkill information:

http://www.hcn.org/issues/291/15268

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roadkill

This is the same industrial infrastructure that most of us drive regularly and which continuously transports all of our food, clothing, computers and other necessities of modern life. I don't hear too many calls for removing the nation's road network because of roadkill issues.

The problem with traps and dogs, particularly in areas like the Bitterroot Valley, has been more noticeable because of population growth and subsequent demographic changes. I find it interesting however, that some who oppose the killing of animals via trapping or hunting live in subdivisions which until recently, were prime wildlife habitat. The Bitterroot, like the Gallatin, Flathead and other valleys is a good example of this.

Footloose Montana claims that it supports hunting and the tradition of hunting in Montana. This makes good political sense, since we have the highest per-capita hunting population in the United States. There is a strong message that hunting is good but trapping is bad. Apparently, there are some who believe that all hunts end with a quick and humane kill, but any honest hunter will tell you that this is not always the case. I have had to shoot animals more than once. I also know that there are some very ethical folks who have taken shots that unintentionally caused great suffering; limbs and jaws shot off, gut shot animals that were never found, etc. These things happen sometimes and it is unfortunate. But does this mean that hunting should be banned because accidents happen occasionally?

Should hunting be likewise banned because there are some unethical hunters out there? Concerns about dogs and traps is for me, a touchy issue. I love dogs, but there are times and places where I also hate them. There is no doubt that trapping affects wildlife populations. But there can also be no doubt that domestic dogs do the same. There are significant swaths of important habitat, particularly near urban areas, that over the past decade, have become overrun with dogs and people. I think its great that folks are outside recreating. But dogs displace and kill a lot of wildlife, both directly and indirectly. Dogs run through and spread noxious weeds with great efficiency. Dogs have been known to transmit canine parvovirus and other diseases to wild canids and non-canid animals. An excellent paper entitled Domestic Dogs in Wildlife Habitats paints a sobering picture of this phenomenon in the Rocky Mountain West.

The data then, suggests that dogs have a significant impact on wild animals and habitats. Some other stories about the effects of dogs on wildlife can be viewed here:

http://tchester.org/srp/lists/dogs.html

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/3305601/Dog-walking-can-harm-wildlife.html

There are claims on the Footloose site that many trappers simply trap "recreationally"; this is an attempt to dismiss and minimize trapping's importance both economically and otherwise to those who "spring the steel". Firstly, the same could be said of hunting; one could claim that there is no fundamental need for hunting in the 21st Century. It is frequently called a cruel remnant from an earlier time by the animal-rights wing nuts. As we often see, many people who simply object to the killing of animals have sentimental projections towards nature and a corresponding ignorance of ecology. I've also noticed a deep misanthropy in some of these types as well as a decidedly urban mindset.

I am not a very accomplished trapper, but what little I've done thus far has proved to me that there is a corollary to hunting; it puts one into direct contact with wild animals and wild places and it is a nothing-hidden, primal relationship with nature, which is more than most people can say these days about their backpacking-style recreation or livelihoods. It has been said that hunting an animal such as an elk might be acceptable, because one is required to eat it by law, and that some poor folks might actually need the meat to survive. But trapping opponents claim that the craft is "done for money", which is meant to mean that it is somehow less acceptable. To which I answer, "who among us does not need money?". While it is likely true that most folks who trap do have other incomes, it doesn't make it "wrong" that they choose to supplement their incomes with a few pelts.

There are many complex and nuanced reasons for trapping, believe it or not. Personally, I am not out to make a living by selling marten pelts. But being out in the mountains trapping makes me feel directly engaged with the landscape and its processes. Like hunting, it creates a tremendous sense of belonging to Nature as well as inspiring a cultural link to the rich history of trapping in North America. Also, there are some very immediate wildlife management issues that require trapping particularly in the so-called "Wildland Urban Interface". (Trapping mountain lions that could endanger people in such areas comes to mind.)

Unlike the vastly successful "Ethical Hunting" or "Nature Hunter" movement in Montana and across the country, there has been almost no such corresponding organization or grassroots idea among the trapping community. This is unacceptable, especially since trapping has been so central to our shared cultural history. If trapping is going to survive our urban present and future, it must be discussed and argued about in a very, very erudite and intelligent manner.

The image of the bloodthirsty, cruel trapper plying his trade in the backcountry and "endangering" the public is powerful and must be overcome. Trapping based on ecology, legitimate cultural values and unassailable ethics is the only kind of trapping that will survive in the United States and elsewhere in the future. Seasons on rare animals like wolverine (in the Lower 48 States) should be halted immediately until such a time when their populations recover adequately. Those who find themselves thinking about their quarry in negative terms or as simply "dumb animals" or "dollar signs" should stop trapping completely. Needless to say, ignorant morons who commit illegal or tasteless acts with their sets should be turned in and busted to the full extent of the law. There are regulations that should be reexamined, and in some places creative solutions and compromises must be sought to alleviate user conflict on public lands.

Trapping, like hunting is a privilege and does have an honorable side to it. The beautiful creatures that end up in our traps are sentient beings with meaning and purpose and must never be reduced to "bodies" in our minds. The message, like hunting is, keep it legal, ethical and sacred.

Record-Setting Spring Storm

2009-04-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

Fun for some in the back yard...

...but it did require snowshoes....

One of the impressive drifts (over 4 feet tall) atop a Choteau home.

Just about 2 feet of snow.

On monday, snow began to blow in from the North; typically when this happens in Montana in the spring, it can mean heavy snowfall and this storm did not disappoint. At our place in Choteau, I measured an average of 22 inches of wet, heavy snow in the front yard, when it was all over, even though the "official" amount for town was 18 inches. There were drifts (see photos) many feet tall atop homes all over town. This was a record-setting event in many places around these parts.

This time of year, many species of wildlife are coming back into the country. Birds are returning from wintering ranges, bears emerge from dens, deer and elk are starting to think about using other habitats as the grass begins to green up. Consequently, late season storms like this presents a major challenge to all kinds of critters, both wild and domestic. Imagine coming out of your den to a wet-heavy blizzard with no visibility or having to post-hole for miles just to find cover or forage. This country is not without its risks and for sure, not without suffering.

I noticed some weird assemblages of birds during and immediately after the storm; robin-killdeer-junco-yellow rumped-warbler "flocks" huddled together during the mayhem, probably just for psychological support! I saw a large mixed flock of starlings and red-winged blackbirds in a cottonwood, in the driving wind and snow, calling loudly. Bizarre events bring out bizarre behavior I suppose.

As hard hit as we were on our little corner of the Front, the community of St. Mary, adjacent to Glacier National Park was hammered with an awe-inspiring FIVE FEET of moisture-laden snow which produced breathtaking drifts of 12 or more feet tall. Many small towns in that area were completely isolated for some time post-storm. It is bound to take a while to dig out from that kind of dump.

If a quick warmup or significant rain-on-snow event follows, we're in for some major flooding for sure. Still, I'll take it over a pronounced absence of water, like the severe, decade-long drought the Northern Rockies had been enduring, until last year. I think I speak for pretty much everyone around here; yes, we'll take the moisture!!

Slow to Spring

2009-04-23T19:31:00.000-07:00

A large porcupine feeding atop willows in the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve

A piece of Pine Butte in the background with fen wetlands in the foreground. Soon there will be grizzlies out here!

Another view of (part of) Pine Butte with the Ranch horses grazing on winter pasture.

We've had an odd winter in Montana, with late storms, intense cold and some recent, impressive dumps of snow. Two days ago, it warmed up to an unbelievable 73 degrees; today, it snowed nearly 6 inches. On that warm day, I led a field trip for 28 Fourth Graders at the guest ranch where I work. The weather was magnificent. However, the usual explosion of early-spring wildflowers was conspicuously absent.

In fact, it seems as if everything is late this year. The grizzlies are notably behind schedule from their "normal" hibernatory emergence, although I did find a nice set of tracks ridiculously close to a cabin on the ranch the other day! Some of the critters that have started to show up look really confused by the "Winter-That-Refused-to-Quit". Out on the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve today, I counted 56 long-billed curlews in one spot, with a couple of marbled godwits amongst them. Curlews are usually pretty solitary birds and to see so many balled up like that was quite a sight. Other recent avian observations include black-necked stilts, american avocets, white pelicans, kestrels, prairie falcons, ferruginous hawks, golden eagles, cinnamon teals, savanna sparrow, vesper sparrows, mountain blue birds...

One of the more remarkable sightings on the Preserve (which is not a true "swamp" by the way) was a large porcupine feeding in the tops of willows. The fen wetlands of the area are extensive, rare and important to many species of wildlife in this otherwise fairly arid landscape. I've never seen a porcupine in such a context before. It may surprise some to know that these beasts are often sighted out on the prairies, far from anything resembling a sizable tree. However, this adaptable critter can feed on a number of different shrubs and apparently are adept at climbing some of them!

While the land seems everywhere sleepy and groggy, the coming of full-blown spring can't be stopped. Soon, life will pulsate everywhere here on the Rocky Mountain Front. I for one, am now officially ready for it.

A Land of Ashes: Fire in the West

2009-04-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

Rebirth: Native vegetation explodes one year after the 2007 Fool Creek Fire

For societies to function well, its individuals must be educated in different kinds of literacy. The idea of a liberal arts education, which emphasizes a general knowledge of art, music, history, mathematics, literature, physical education and science, is to develop the student's intellectual curiosity and thought processes. As members of American society for example, we are each expected to know the basics of these areas of study. Its the glue that holds a civilization together.

As an outdoor educator, I try to communicate the basics of what might be called, "ecological literacy". Unfortunately, this particular area of study is not one that is emphasized in our educational institutions or culture. Yet, it is arguably the most important area of knowledge relating to our lives here on earth. A basic concept that I frequently bring up is "energy is the currency of life". All organisms require energy to exist and all organisms are continuously in pursuit (or manufacture, if you are a plant) of said energy.

The Dance of Life is driven by this energy exchange in all its beauty and brutality. Another key ecological principal is "disturbance and change". This is a universal across the Earth's living systems; while some changes might be imperceptible, such as a single tree falling over and creating an opening in the forest, others are more spectacular. There is no ecological process in the West more controversial and politically charged than wildfire. Since its creation, the United States Forest Service has been promoting fire suppression; the message of Smokey Bear, which you can still find today in some literature, is both myopic and knee-jerk; Fire is bad.

Throughout our history, humans have put varying degrees of simplistic labels on Nature's many creatures and processes. This is especially true of agriculturally-based societies. Historically in the American West wolves, grizzly bears and essentially anything with canine teeth or predatory habits falls into the "bad" column. Deer, elk and other huntable big game usually constitutes "good" wildlife. The same is true of natural processes. The original intent of the Forest Service was to prevent wildfires from destroying timber resources since for many years the agency's main purpose was harvesting timber. However, the century-long blitzkrieg to eliminate fire from the landscape has seriously backfired, pardon the pun, something that the Forest Service acknowledges. To their credit, the agency has tried to put fire back on the landscape where feasible, to fulfill more of its historic ecological role.

The forests (and prairies) of the West are fire-dependent; periodic wildfire is the generative force behind their continual change, flux and evolution. Fire is as necessary as rain and snow for the long-term health of these ecosystems. When fire is significantly reduced or removed from Western forests, really serious consequences ensue. The most obvious problem is heavy fuel loading. The guest ranch where I work is a mosaic of montane meadows and montane forest. We have historic photographs from the late 1890's that show much larger meadow complexes, bigger aspen clones and far fewer (but more larger) trees, especially Douglas Fir. Walking the ground tells the same story. Most areas are choked with smaller diameter trees, with a few big guys mixed in. These heavily fuel loaded forests are at risk for uncharacteristically hot, stand-replacing burns, which in recent years has become something of the norm in the West. Also, these areas tend to be less species diverse and are marginally useful for wildlife.

Noticeable on the bigger trees (generally over 100 years old) are fire scars; in this landscape according to a fire-history study completed in 1999, we would have expected to see low to medium intensity fires every 5-25 years. That is a lot of fire. This regime would have maintained the open, parklike Douglas Fir savannah in more areas than today. It would have killed many shrubs and small saplings, but favored older trees with thicker, fire-resistant bark. Of course there were dense, overgrown forests in some places, at some times in the West of the past...but not as many and definitely not for very long.

A trend I have noticed across Montana where forests have become seriously over-dense, is that in lieu of fire, forest pathogens have stepped in. There are many native species of fungi and insects that will prey on stressed out trees, particularly if they are in close proximity to one another. The lesson here is that we can try to take fire out of the equation as much as we want, but the land will find a way to create the necessary disturbance and balance out the system. In time, forests will always burn, rot and be eaten; they are essentially cannon fodder for the forces of nutrient cycling.

Some species are directly dependent on wildfire. Black Backed Woodpeckers, Morel Mushrooms and Bicknell's Geranium come to my mind. Indirect beneficiaries are deer, elk, bears and many other species of big game. Because forbs, grasses and shrubs are the first to come in with our successional pattern, many burned over montane forests quickly become bonanzas for grazers and generalist omnivores like bears. There are short-term losers though; lynx, pine marten and other boreal species will need to utilize other habitats until the necessary conditions are re-created for their use. On the other hand, many fires in the Rockies tend to burn in mosaic patterns; an excellent example in my backyard is the Fool Creek Fire which burned 60,000 acres in 2007. While it did "nuke" some areas with tremendously hot temperatures, it also displayed areas of "mixed intensity". That is, some spots were only lightly burned or unburned, others were fried.

What this means on the ground is that an overall structural and compositional diversity is created; there will occasionally be "something for everyone" in this type of burn. Some forests however, particularly higher-elevation Lodgepole Pine ecosystems are known to be periodically annihilated every 200 years or so. The point here is that forests burn and not just Western forests. Boreal forests of the North, mixed hardwoods in the East and Southern forests burn. So do wet, coastal forests of the Pacific Northwest. Prairies and tundra burn. In fact, every ecosystem with enough vegetation to carry a flame likely has a fire cycle; it may be every 5 years or every 500, but it will come. We tend to think of our brief tenure in North America (a few hundred years) as a long time. But there are much longer-term cycles out there on the land which we are only beginning to understand.

The "problem" with wildfire today is often related to people and our perceptions. There are some real and valid concerns about fires and public safety especially in communities near forested areas. These problems can be mitigated by thoughtful logging and forest management. But there is a deeper problem, I believe, that our kind has with fire. It represents a wildness in Nature that we'd rather control and creates changes in the land which we are frequently uncomfortable with. I love green, verdant forests as much as the next guy and have seen some favorite areas of mine burn down, but to me, its bittersweet. Fire brings rejuvenation and its own kind of beauty to a place in addition to new habitats and species. In the recent past, humans used fire along the Front to create habitat for bison, domestic livestock and to favor certain kinds of edible, medicinal and culturally important plants. It was used as a tool for improving the quality of life. Of course, today things are very different, but regardless, Nature isn't asking our opinion about this most important agent of change in the West. Like our own mortality, its something we ultimately must accept and learn to live with. Fighting against fire for over 100 years has produced little but more frequent intense fires as well as an ecologically compromised landscape.

We're sure to argue more about how to live with fire in A Land of Ashes, but we'd do well to realize the importance and inevitable nature of flames.

Experience Life Magazine

2009-03-31T16:37:00.000-07:00

April issue of Experience Life Magazine.

I was interviewed a couple of months back by a journalist from Experience Life Magazine. The article Into the Wild can be read here. (These mags really need some more creative titles for their articles...) It is an overview of wilderness survival, primitive skills and bushcraft schools around the country. The careful reader can discern some not-so-subtle differences in the overall philosophies and approaches of these outfits. Its always good to research schools and instructors as much as you can before you jump into to a workshop or multi-day course. Also, make sure you go to study in a landscape that you want to be in for aesthetic reasons or one that resembles the environment where you spend time in the backcountry.

It doesn't make sense to study desert survival if you spend most of your time in montane or boreal environments for example. Also, its a good idea to know what you are looking for before you take a course. Do you want straight up, functional survival skills or more of a primitive living experience? Are you more into natural history, ethnobotany and bushcraft? I'll be frank and say that I am not a fan of Tom Brown Jr., who is also mentioned in the piece. Many people have strong opinions about his operation (The Tracker School), and I'll just leave it at that.

State of the Craft

2009-03-19T12:59:00.000-07:00

Me running my mouth at a bushcraft workshop a near Helena, MT a couple years ago. (Note my prized buckskin Carhartts!)

I've been observing trends in the "wilderness survival" and "bushcraft" realms for a number of years now and think its about time to go ahead and blab, er, I mean blog about it. The recent spat of television shows on these topics hosted by Ray Mears, Les Stroud and Bear Grylls have had an enormous impact on the public perception of wildlands and how people interact with them as well as about survival in general.

The art of Bushcraft, as I personally define it, is the study & practice of living and traveling in wild landscapes with a minimum of dependence on "modern" technology. This is a vast, interdisciplinary subject that may include ethnobotany; anthropology; natural history; tracking; subsistence techniques; tool construction & use; conservation; education; natural crafting; varying methods of wilderness travel; woodworking; clothing and gear manufacture; human ecology; art; music; spirit. There is likely more to add to this list. I have intentionally left out areas of study that directly relate to agricultural living such as gardening, "sustainability" issues, etc., because while important, this stuff is something significantly different.

To experience and understand bushcraft, you have to have something resembling bush or wild land where you can play in and get lost in. Its fun to be a friction fire "stud" in the backyard, but quite another thing to kindle and live with fire in all outdoor conditions in the wilderness. I personally love the multi-faceted nature of this stuff and the fact that it is still (for now) unregulated and more or less decentralized. There is something deeply appealing to the human spirit in learning (or re-learning) how to live in a wild place without most of the synthetic garbage that masquerades as "outdoor equipment" these days. There is a feeling of cultural/historical continuity when using an axe well, for example, that creates a sense of purpose and belonging to the land that cannot be achieved with a backpacking-type experience. Of course, the arts of hunting, trapping and gathering will instantly bring the Pleistocene to the present for the sensitive and thoughtful forager.

Generally speaking, the many acts of participating in Nature that bushcraft enables is what I believe excites so many of us bipeds about the art. We are allowed to interact with the land in a fundamentally different way than the dominant urban lifestyle. In the United Kingdom, the unbelievable popularity of bushcraft essentially rests with one person: Ray Mears. His programs on the BBC are still wildly popular as are the courses at his school, Woodlore.

I have never been to the UK or any of the schools across the Pond. But in my discussions with friends who've spent time with outdoor instructors from Britain as well as following some of the internet chatter (www.bushcraftuk.com) I've noticed some trends that, quite frankly, are a bit unsettling. If you are unfamiliar with the Mears programs (Extreme Survival, Bushcraft, World of Survival, Wild Foods, etc.) you should know that they have very high production values, are entertaining and contain mostly good information. Ray is affable and presents well. My concern is that while he has brought the joy of bushcraft to many, he has also singlehandedly created a monster: Bushcraft Inc. (Ray: if you are reading this, I am sure you are a great guy with basically good intentions. Still, I feel that my observation is on the mark. No hard feelings please.)

Many of the English schools use Mearsian language and imagery to peddle courses and equipment. On YouTube, some amateur British woodsmen demonstrate skills with the same inflection, tone and style as the man himself. They tend to dress in the required, vaguely militaristic, olive drab clothing and often present, verbatim, the same few skills of knife work, percussion fire, etc., that Mr. Mears has been doing for years. What is going on here? I'm not trying to be cynical or negative, but you have to ask yourself, what if anything, is being lost with all of this media, imitation and commercialism? I've noticed on some of the blogs that there is an admiration that borders on worship for Ray, who for better or worse is the de facto figurehead of the movement over there.

Instinctively, I am uncomfortable around large numbers of people who tend to think the same way. To me, something generally bad happens when "group think" begins to take over. Industrialized or institutionalized bushcraft could standardize the study to the point where individuality, creativity and personal experience is marginalized and dismissed. A conformity with regard to clothing and gear is already well established in the UK. Lest you think I am alone in my observations on this, at least one British bushcraft blog agrees. I am sure there are some great things happening over in England, but this "bushcraft craze" makes me uneasy. Who knows; the next frightening step might be some kind of mandatory certification process, perhaps like the Wilderness First Aid industry that has come into being in recent years. (While there is a place for WFA courses, the main reason that most outdoor schools consider it required instructor training is due mostly from fear of litigation.)

Woodcraft, survival and bushcraft in North America is, to a great degree, still decentralized and individualistic. Take my instructor Mors Kochanski for example. This guy is well regarded around the world as a living legend in the wilderness arts and is also refreshingly, very much his own man. His dress is frequently not the de-rigueur uniform of current bushcraft fashionistas and his attitude towards experimentation and empirical observation is admirable. I think his example is worth mimicking more so than the big-time TV gurus.

This brings us to Les Stroud (aka Survivorman) and Bear Grylls (Man Vs. Wild). First, I must simply dismiss the Man Vs. Wild show for being completely sensationalistic, ego-driven and, if one were to take some of Bear's suggestions literally, flipping dangerous! This program is so ludicrous and fake that I find it difficult to analyze without prejudice. So I'll just leave it at that.

Les Stroud, who finally put the Survivorman series to bed this year, did a good job at showing some cool tricks for fulfilling the basic priorities of fire, shelter, etc. He also intentionally did not romanticize the survival experience. However, (surprise!) nothing portrayed in Survivorman was ever an actual survival situation. Keep in mind, all of these shows are just that; entertainment. It would be awfully difficult to sell advertising for a program that showed a person sitting by a fire in the woods, crying for a few days, while waiting for rescue. All of Les' locations have been pre-scouted and analyzed. All contingencies are considered and he has a satellite phone in his possession and other safety nets in place. The strict definition of "survival" is a situation where your life is seriously at risk. Les Stroud's program, while in a few instances found him in what could have been sketchy situations, follows a script. Never do we see Survivorman panic or display the spirit-penetrating fear of an actual life or death situation. Therefore, what we are really seeing is Les in "primitive camping"-mode for seven days per episode.

These programs are fun to watch, especially for a survival geek like myself. But there are two questions I keep asking myself about them. First; why do these survival dudes feel such a strong need to be on camera and be perceived as experts in the first place? There are serious errors in technique and judgement (either staged or not) in all of these programs. There is an axiom which says it is often the most insecure and needy among us who rise to great power and influence, perhaps in an effort to achieve the attention and control they've been seeking throughout their lives. For me, its kind of open-season on anyone who rises to media stardom. While Ray Mears for example, does a fair David Attenborough-esque presentation, with the likely intention of inspiring folks about traditional lifeways, its still appears to be all about Ray.

If we turn to some of the undisputed masters in the field, we'll find that most people have never heard of them. These folks have been quietly studying and teaching the skills of bushcraft and survival in the wilderness for years without the mainstream media following them around. And there are many. Kochanski and the Conovers come immediately to my mind as do Tony Nester in Arizona and Tim Smith in New Hampshire. To me, these folks and others like them are true conservators of the Craft and deserve support.

The other thing I see happening with the survival shows and the UK craze is a certain tribal-fanaticism and devotion to the personalities. To which I say, get over it please. The whole purpose of bushcraft in the modern world, is to facilitate an experience in nature that is more real, genuine and intimate than can be had with a backpacking-type wilderness experience. It also tends to make better people, which is good for everyone ultimately. While the shows, gatherings and schools all have their place to teach and inspire, I think it is most important to get out there and live the experiences for yourself. Then take what you've learned and inspire others; ask deeper questions about humans and our place here on earth and how we might do things in better ways.

Just something to think about.

The Bear

2009-03-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

Grizzly bear mother emerging from a possible prairie den.

This photo was taken from about thirty yards!

Mom and one of the two yearlings fleeing from the "upright bears"; that is, us. Click for higher resolution.

In the northern hemisphere, there is one wild creature which has been at the fore of the human mind for so long, it has worked its way deep into our culture, languages and cosmology. While there are three species of bear in the North, one in particular has continued to have special significance for the human animal.

The creature I am speaking of is the Grizzly bear. In Montana and historically across the West, there have been two bruins on the landscape; Ursus americanus, the Black or "American Bear" and the larger Grizzly, Ursus arctos, or the "Bear-Bear". Interestingly, the Blackfeet names for these two beasts reflect some kind of significant difference. Their word for the Black is Kyaio, which essentially means "bear". The Grizzly, or Nitakyaio translates as "Real Bear". I do not accept as coincidence that the binomial (scientific name) for the Grizzly just so happens to mean the same thing as the Blackfeet name. I believe they both reflect an identical recognition by two empirical traditions that the Griz is something unique, which is what I want to explore a bit here.

In Montana during the 19th century, essentially all large animals were killed in tremendous numbers as a result of westward Euro-American expansion. In many cases, deer, elk, bear, bison, pronghorn, you name it, were killed either to destroy the Indian Nations or just for something to do. The Grizzly survived in Northern Montana and in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem because of the existence of remote Federally protected landscapes, good habitat, relatively few people and the uncanny adaptability of the species itself.

While all North American bears are listed in the Order Carnivora, you may be surprised to learn that most of what a Grizzly eats in my part of the world by far, is plant and insect matter. In fact, many biologists consider blacks and Grizzlies to be rather mediocre predators; they are better adapted to omnivory and scavenging. While some bears do become "specialized hunters", they will generally conserve their energy and hit the more reliable plant harvests and insect resources for the vast bulk of their diet. It is estimated that on the Rocky Mountain Front, up to 90% of most Grizzly Bear's diets are bugs and veg. The rest is usually scavenged meat. The G-bears that live along the Front are consistently the largest south of Canada. None of this is to say that Grizzlies aren't dangerous to people; in some situations they can be very aggressive. But as renown bear biologist Chuck Jonkel likes to say, "more people are killed by Coke machines every year than by bears." Right on Chuck!

Omnivory is reflected in the Bear's dentition; if you look at a bear skull, the first thing that jumps out at you are the large canine teeth, but next you notice the pre-molars and large rear molars. It is the presence of these combined piercing/slashing/grinding teeth that tell us this beast is an opportunistic-predatory omnivore. Looking to our deep past, long before we mastered hunting on two feet, humans were certainly a foraging-scavenging animal.

The Grizzly and black bear have plantigrade rear feet; this means the heel hits the ground first, just like people, and if you've ever seen a good rear-foot print of one of these guys, it can be eerily similar to our own track. The bear possesses "hunter's eyes"; oriented in front of the skull, like ours, for binocular vision. This also creates the unmistakable impression of a true face. The mother Grizzly will maintain a very close relationship with her cubs for two or more years, which is highly unusual for any animal in our neck of the woods. It is a huge investment of energy. She actively teaches her young about food sources, travel routes and perils like especially dangerous male bears, as well as the "upright bear", homo sapiens.

Bears are also individualistic and display a wide range of emotions; anger, playfulness, aggression, tenderness and more. And bears, especially the Grizzly demonstrate both culture and thought. We know from historical record that bears which inhabited central Montana in the past were likely more aggressive and bold. After the "Great Cleansing" of the 19th century settlement era, Grizzlies simply had to become more reclusive, shy and careful to survive. The culture of our bears on the Front reflects this; to see one in broad daylight, particularly near any settlement or road, is unusual. It is not by accident. In the collective memory of this animal is a time not too long ago when they were shot on sight, no questions asked. They know they must be more secretive and cautious to live here and pass this onto their cubs.

Another interesting bit of Grizzly natural history is that most of their evolutionary time was spent in treeless environments such as grasslands and Arctic tundra. This translates in to an animal which, when threatened will generally be more assertive, since it is unable to retreat from danger up a tree. Also, these beasts are supreme diggers; that big shoulder hump and the very long claws are not for ripping prey to pieces, its for excavation. I have seen large areas torn up by Grizzly bears harvesting glacier lilly, cow parsnip, etc. While black bears can dig, they lack the long, digging instruments with which to do so; their claws are strongly curved, for climbing trees.

Here on the Front, the two bruins are somewhat segregated by habitats. Blacks are more strongly associated with the woods. Grizzlies more so with the prairies, but they are happy to use all ecotypes, from grasslands, forest to alpine. Ursus arctos is a cirumboreal animal. That is, they occur throughout the northern hemisphere within a smattering of sub-species. As interesting as the ecology of the animal is, the way humans have viewed Real Bear is quite profound.

Human Ecologist Paul Shepard has written extensively about how human beings learned physical survival knowledge and developed culture and language by observing-mimicking animals, particularly the Bear. There are approximately 40 linguistic links in English with the word bear. To bear is a term that is frequently associated with birth and in fact, is directly related.

Imagine a time 40,000 years ago in Eurasia; hunting societies observed and knew all animals intimately. We saw this bear, a predator-omnivore that physically resembles us, locating and gathering plants for food & medicine. It is obviously intelligent, sometimes ferocious, moody and individualistic. After gorging for much of the summer, the animal disappears into the womb of earth and "dies" for the winter. In spring, it is "reborn" and sometimes emerges with little ones that will remain with the mother for a few years.

To me, the parallels with much later stories of resurrected, furry prophets such as Christ are not coincidental. In the north, it was the bear, specifically the brown (or grizzly) bear that was the physical manifestation of the great round of life for humans (and Neanderthals) for tens of thousands of years. The animal has been embedded in myth, religion, folk tales, art and language of all Northern cultures, though sometimes you must look closely to find him. In the film Cree Hunters of the Mistassini, there is a scene where a hunter talks about suspending bear skulls from harvested animals in trees for "some reason". "Its something we've always done" he says. Even though these particular Cree had been converted to Catholicism, the special treatment of bears and their significance remained present in the culture, albeit in remnant form. Or, it could have been something the hunter felt was so sacred, that he did not feel appropriate sharing on film.

In modern culture, it is easy to point out Teddy Bear, Yogi and of course, Smokey. But these are superficial representations of what was for most of our deep history, both a physical and metaphysical relationship with the Bear. In Montana, there are relatively few sites where bears are represented in Native rock art. As far as I know, nearly all bear-art is located east of the Continental Divide, that is, mostly on the prairies.

In the spring of 2007, on our Grizzly Workshop at Pine Butte Guest Ranch, we had an intimate encounter. There was rumor that a grizzly had been seen emerging from a what could be a den site, about 20 miles east of the mountains. This is significant because while Grizzlies were known to have denned on the prairies in pre-settlement Montana, they now, according to the biology books headed up to the high-country to hibernate. Our group obtained permission to drive on to the ranch where the bear had been sighted and pulled up to a big hole that had been dug on a north-facing slope.

We were awestruck when a large Grizzly appeared at the entrance, not thirty yards from our vehicle. She gave a characteristic "woof" and "stiff-arm" (aggressive displays: this should be interpreted as "get the hell out of here, now...") and ran up the hillside, followed by her two cubs. I do not exaggerate when I say that this probably has not been seen in living memory. That is, if these critters actually denned on the prairie, it is historically significant; it means that the bears are now more comfortable living year-round on grasslands, as they had for so long in the past. It will also mean that the growing population of bears will inevitably come into conflict with people more frequently in the future.

One of the most profound things I have come to see in the Real Bear, is that they seem to represent a lost part of ourselves. They live in the wilderness, free and unencumbered by the existential problems associated with being human. They are both kindred and "Other"; we can easily see in them our Fall from Grace.

The fact that there are viable populations of Grizzly Bears in the West today is a miracle. These animals require huge, wild areas to exist. It is a testament to exceptional land management, tolerance and I think, the inherent wonder the Bear illuminates within us. Among the many biological, ethical and spiritual reasons for maintaining these bears in Montana, we should recognize our deep relationship with the beast and how much we owe to it. A trip into Grizzly country keeps you humble and in your place. We would simply be lost without them.

Personas Among Us

2009-02-15T19:35:00.000-08:00

Making a small, one-person Super Shelter at a recent Winter Survival Workshop

Last winter, I had an interesting experience not long after showing up to teach a survival workshop near Helena, Montana. I was walking around, greeting folks when a bearded and burly specimen of a man who had to have been pushing 300 pounds, snowshoed up to me and pronounced, "Hi! My name's Buck; how are ya! I grew up in Alaska and know all this stuff. I'm just here for ma boy."(meaning he wanted me to instruct his son...something he couldn't do himself?) Now, part of me always dreads teaching these kinds of classes; the only other area of study that reliably brings so many freaks out of the woodwork are the martial arts. And alas, this is a pursuit that I am also involved with. Buck wasn't the first to approach me and proclaim his woods-mastery right off of the bat, but something about him was setting off alarm bells.

I meet a lot of different people at these events, from diverse backgrounds and experiences. However, the most interesting thing I've noticed is that more or less the same personality types cycle through the workshops each year. It is also a phenomenon I've noticed in my naturalist work. In any given week there's the needy one, the pushy one, the super enthusiastic one, the quiet one, the extrovert, the manipulator, the philosopher, the spiritual seeker, the know-it-all and many others. Not all are bad and of course, most of us are a mix of several types.

We might call these personality-tendencies; they influence how the person is affected by and affects, the world. But its the idea of the Persona, exemplified in this case by our friend, Buck, that I'd like to address here. Carl Jung called the persona "the mask, or facade presented to satisfy the demands of the situation or the environment and not representing the inner personality of the individual." (Dictionary.Com) It is, in other words the superficial, public "face". None of us, myself included, is immune from creating a persona at some time in life as part of our total self. But its dominance within a person's psyche seems to vary. It must have some sociological/evolutionary/psychological advantage for us as a species.

However, like many things in our lives, the persona can tend towards the healthy (good) or pathological (bad). Let's look at some of the personas, or roles, that are attracted to the wilderness arts. The military survivalist whack-job instantly comes to mind and I've met some doozies in my day. These guys have generally never served in the military, are armed to the hilt and frequently, are from somewhere else. In Montana, this means they are often new arrivals, hiding/running from some perceived enemy like "the Government", people of color, gun-confiscating liberals, "environmentalists", anyone who disagrees with their extreme libertarian politics, etc.

The irony is that actual people in the military who I've spent time around are usually really cool. There is a clear disconnect here; our survivalist buddies feel a need to appear strong, organized and knowledgeable about...something. I should be be careful and make a clear distinction between those who study and teach wilderness survival, and "survivalists" because I am one of the former who has no patience for the latter. The idea I am getting at has something to do with the ego and this brings us back to Buck.

The unmistakable gist of Buck's claim to me (and pretty much everyone else in earshot) was that the very fact that he grew up in Alaska was enough to qualify him as a master woodsman. However, the skill level he demonstrated was so remarkably sub-par, I had to laugh to myself. What made it funny wasn't the fact that he had no luck starting a fire under controlled conditions, or that he cut himself with his own knife and was a general hazard to everyone around him...many folks who I've taught demonstrate similarly low skill. What makes Buck stand out in my mind was that he was so sure, being from Alaska and all, that he was a bush-stud. And for me, that spells out one thing; a competitiveness spawned by insecurity.

In most cases when the persona, or image of oneself does not match up with the real world, its merely inconvenient or embarrassing. Like if you imagine yourself to be a virtuoso guitarist, and come performance time, you fall flat on your face. But when this kind of thing happens in the wilds, you are in for a big and dangerous surprise. Most of us would admit to trying to impress someone at one time or another. We do it for attention and for praise, which are both human needs. (One could easily argue that the blog is the ultimate expression of this attention-getting behavior) But at its core, it is an adolescent behavior that inhibits growth both personally and culturally.

There is a more famous example of this persona idea gone bad. Many of you may be familiar with Archie Grey Owl. At the height of his powers in the late 1930's, he wrote passionate books about wildlife and wildland conservation from his remote bush home in Prince Albert National Park, Saskatchewan, Canada. His story was remarkable: born of mixed Anglo and Apache heritage he was adopted by the Ojibwa on the Canadian side of the Great Lakes. He lived the life of a subsistence hunter and trapper for many years traveling by canoe across vast areas of boreal forest. He was an astute observer of the natural world and argued persuasively for its conservation. This guy was decades ahead of his time; intuitively explaining complex ecological relationships to the public and recognizing the impacts of poor logging practices and over-trapping.

The world, particularly Canada and Europe, was in love with Grey Owl, who frequently toured the lecture circuit, presenting in buckskin regalia to packed houses. As the story goes, the intense writing & lecturing schedule stressed his body, which was probably already overworked by a hard life of trapping, to the breaking point. He died in 1938 at the age of 50. What is interesting about this story is what you will either call a minor or major point, depending on your perspective.

Archie Grey Owl was actually born in England and had no Native blood in him whatsoever. When news of this hit the press after his death, there was public outrage; in some cases his many books were pulled from shelves and withdrawn from publication. The biggest hit though, was that some philanthropists felt so betrayed, that conservation causes which he (born: Archibald Belaney) had championed, suffered badly and did not recover for many years. All because Archie lied about his story.

The easy route is to dismiss Grey Owl as a fraud. I personally feel that he was a great man but that it was completely lame to portray himself as "an Indian". It gets interesting when you look at his case further. He lived a life more traditionally, more Indian than many Natives did at the time, by far. His commitment to that lifeway was recognized by his teachers, the Ojibwa, who adopted him. He undoubtedly knew more about how the boreal landscape functioned and how it was being negatively impacted by industry than most people of the day. Finally, with his writing and speaking, he likely did more to advocate for conservation in Canada than anyone up to that time. But despite all of this, he kept his secret. What was going on in his head? Why the need to pretend to be Indian? Didn't his many accomplishments justify his life enough?

Apparently not; I look at this story and see a profound need for acceptance and attention, the telltale signs of insecurity. He also had a string of difficult relationships with many women over the years, and was for a time, married to two, simultaneously. We know that Archie had an abusive, alcoholic father and other problems early in life. An overwhelming and persistent feeling of inadequacy in a person will drive them to do many things. A spectacular example in my mind, was the completely ego-driven need by George W. Bush to invade Iraq, to at least partially, prove his own worth to his father. Another story indeed.

The other notable persona I've seen attracted to survival and bushcraft is the New Age Twinkie (NAT). Thankfully, they tend to be drawn towards "wilderness schools" that cater to their particular, um, needs. Generally, this type seeks a Guru experience; like someone who can teach them skills that defy physics. (Think: Invisibility, tracking mammals across asphalt, etc.) and who can fulfill their psychological need for a Charismatic Leader. There is a tendency with the NAT to want to believe anything, and a general lack of independent, empirical thought.

Once again, we should be careful and not lump all people into neat, simple piles. Human beings are complex creatures after all. However, the NAT to me, is an immature expression of the genuine spiritual impulse, which is a very real human need and one that I try to encourage in people. Some friends of mine think that bushcraft and spirituality have no place together, but I disagree.

To briefly digress, spirituality and religious questions are difficult and uncomfortable sometimes to discuss, but there can be no question that many people intuitively feel a spirit connection in the natural world. Those of us who teach wilderness living should find ways to respectfully and honestly address this profound need in our own way, instead of dismissing the notion altogether. There's usually more than one reason for pursuing a particular discipline. I enjoy the strictly practical side of bushcraft (survival skills), but also appreciate interacting with the landscape in a more intimate way. I like the self-sufficiency, the ethno-botany, the cultural connection to the past and I feel closer to the Creator when I am in the bush. There, I said it.

So, to simplify and reduce this ridiculously long post; although it is probably fine to play a character of sorts in life, it should be recognized as being better suited to the younger generation. I think when the inner life matches the persona (so long as the persona it is a positive one), you've hit the nail on the head. When I was growing up, I fantasized about being an Indian-trapper. During late adolescence (early twenties) while pursuing a music degree, I felt a need to reinvent myself into something more real, useful and interesting: a woodsman/naturalist. I know; neither useful nor interesting, but just humor me for now...

After moving to Montana in 1997 and knowing basically nothing about the landscape here, I unconsciously set about pursuing my new persona. It was a lonely, aimless period, transitioning between the old and this new path. I found myself aggressively devouring natural history knowledge and looking for opportunities, wherever possible, to prove to others that I knew a lot more than they did about Nature. Not in a blatant, malicious way mind you, but needlessly competitive as a result of (sigh), my own adolescent insecurity.

Mercifully, one day, only a few years ago, I felt no need to maintain a facade of being a naturalist/bushcraft guy/woodsman, and in doing so realized that I had somehow become what I wanted to be for so long. I think "manifesting" (or maturing) is the word that fits here. I'm definitely not some kind of master or even especially competent by any standard, but nonetheless, I still feel that the persona is gone; I am a woodsman, if even an imperfect and novice one. This isn't to say I've conquered my ego in a Buddhist sense (don't think I want to do that completely anyway...) or that I'm never competitive about my craft or other things in my life. I am only Human after all. But I have learned to work on these things and keep them on a short leash. Remember, the very word human refers to humus (earth) which is where the term humility originates.

This discussion of psychology and bushcraft could go in a million different directions, but I'll spare you my ramblings and end it here. Until next time...

Gig

2009-02-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

"El Rancho Deluxe"- aka Pine Butte Guest Ranch

During the summer here in North Central Montana, I act as a resident naturalist for a local guest ranch. The place was begun in 1930, by a certain Kenny and Alice Gleason. 1930, you may recall, was right about the time an earlier financial armageddon was laying down its wrath on the country. It was one of our nation's defining era's; the Great Depression and it changed the trajectory of our country as well as many individual lives. I'm mentioning this to convince myself that what is now Pine Butte Guest Ranch will survive the current "economic downturn" as it has done in the past, and by extension, my job with it.

That first year, somehow, Kenny and Alice were able to coax a few well-to-do folks out West from Chicago, to an unknown place which, at that time, was essentially at the end of the earth. There were no buildings yet; the clients stayed in wall tents. The property, roughly a 1000 acre parcel of river bottom, forest and montane meadows is surrounded by public land on three sides. It had been in Kenny's family for some time, but not "proved up" much. There are incredible human and natural stories attached to this piece of ground, which I'll save for another time. To shorten things significantly, the Circle 8 Guest Ranch was operated along the South Fork Teton River for about 50 years, when in 1979, the Gleasons had had enough of trail rides, meat & potatoes and just scraping by.

It was then that the Circle 8 was sold to the Nature Conservancy and re-christened Pine Butte Guest Ranch. Pine Butte itself, is a land form that is the centerpiece of the Conservancy's nearby Pine Butte Swamp Preserve. Anyway, its my job to take folks out on the ground and help them to fall in love, so to speak. The purpose of the Ranch is to educate people about our conservation mission on the Rocky Mountain Front, and to help fund that work. The big threats to this top 1% of wildlife habitat in the United States, are residential subdivision, invasive species and climate change. Its good, important work.

My days consist of walking and talking and lots of it. And days are often long: during our topic specific weeks, like the grizzly bear workshop for example, it is not uncommon to work 10 to 14 hours at a stretch. I have often characterized the work of a naturalist as 20% natural history, 80% people management. And there is some truth to it, but it does depend on the week. I've learned a lot about the human animal and how it thinks in my job. I'll be getting more into the idea of personas in a future post.

We get folks from all corners of the States and occasionally, from around the world. There are groups that click very well together, and some that don't, but my job is to keep the enthusiasm high and to animate the landscape for our visitors. Generally, I don't have to put too much into getting folks excited about the Front. Mostly, the country does that all by itself. (see photos...) Many people come for the chance to see one specific beast: the grizzly bear. It is one thing to see a bear that is acclimated to the human presence in Glacier or Yellowstone. Often near a road with hundreds of cars and tourists nearby: the infamous "bear jam". But it is quite another to see the creature in its natural habitat, usually with no idea it is being viewed, without the crowds, without the radio collar (usually) and without a sound, save the ever present wind.

It doesn't always happen, of course, these griz viewings. And there are numerous other things to see and learn about here: the long and remarkable story of Native Peoples; the pantheon of other critters like pronghorn, bighorn, wolves, elk, black bear, wolverine, pine marten, long-billed curlews, prairie falcons...; the soft and subtle beauty of the foothill prairie and its flora; wetlands; forests and the many mountains and their rivers. But still, the Great Bear is usually at the top of the list and there's often a lot of pressure to produce one for folks.

Its fantastic work, if exhausting at times. I could go on ad-nauseum about this landscape; how it contains some of the most intact prairies left in North America; the big predators and their remarkable recovery from near extinction; the massive, 2.5 million-acre Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex and surrounding wildlands. Its home, and not a bad one at that. When the Ranch closes for the winter, my work shifts into teaching local folks about this place, bushcraft and related topics. Its also the time of year where I sneak in a few outdoor survival gigs where I can. Next time, I'll bore you to tears with that stuff.

Lay of the Land

2009-01-31T16:01:00.000-08:00

This is my first post ever; I am new to the blogging business and a bit apprehensive since I'm inherently distrustful of this realm of technology. Oh well; I'll get over it. I won't claim to offer much in the way of stellar bushcraft skills generally, since there are many others infinitely better qualified to do so in our community. While its all cool stuff, I am more interested in writing about what woodsmanship and natural history means to people; how it makes us think about ourselves and the landscape and how it might influence how we interact with both Nature and other bipeds.

Mostly I'm getting into this to have a reason to write about life here on the Rocky Mountain Front, not because I think I've got a secret portal to the Truth that should be shared with rest of humanity. But as you'll see, I do have a strong belief in truth as an ordering principal in the world, while recognizing that it is not always an easy thing to identify or communicate about.

First off, truthfully, there is no "Aerie Mountain"; sort of. Here in Choteau, Montana, there is a prominent peak that stands out and draws the eye away from the main range of the Front, due west of town. It has been described by A.B. (Bud) Guthrie in The Big Sky as looking like "an ear, laying on its side", hence its name, Ear Mountain. I don't buy it, and many of the people I've introduced to the 8550 foot limestone fin that rises explosively from the prairie, haven't bought it either.

I have yet to learn the Blackfoot people's name for Ear. I do know it is still considered an especially holy place to them; it is one of four such mountains within about a 150-mile radius of here. Ear is still occasionally used as a vision quest site as it has been for a very long time by Blackfeet and probably others. This would mean that after a strenuous climb of several hours, you will now spend four days and four nights without the benefit of food or water. Any survival instructor worth their salt will remind you that 3 to 4 days without water is pushing the envelope of life for the human body.

The reason for all of this misery was to push the body and by extension, the mind into a place where a person might receive a vision to guide them throughout life. It might come in the form of a dream or animal or plant spirit. There were no guarantees of course; you'd be expected to make prayers and maybe some tobacco offerings and suffer in hopes that the Maker might answer.

That's one thing I think about when I look up at that beast of a hill. Climbing up it, in some hellish weather like an electrical storm with 90 mile per hour winds, in nothing but buckskins and moccasins. Not to prove anything, or to glorify one's ego, but to suffer and maybe become a more grounded and more honest person because of it. Traditional Blackfeet say that all we really have to offer the Creator for our prayers is our bodies. The mountain does not look like an ear to me.

Another version of how the peak received its current, non-Native name is recounted in The History of Teton County. Supposedly, some early settlers or trappers of Scotch-Irish extraction used the word "Aerie", which means "nest", to describe the prominent peak in the Teton River country. That name was later bastardized into the more prosaic and unimaginative "Ear". I am much more impressed by this theory since the golden eagles, prairie falcons and other raptors that nest on the flanks of "Aerie" today were likely just as awe-inspiring to the early trappers as they are for me.

I've not yet climbed the peak, but plan to some day. I have been on nearby mountains, reefs and cliffs though; when you summit you are generally heading up the more gentle western slopes, which abruptly break off from geologic cataclysm, to produce the devastating vertical beauty of the Rocky Mountain Front. You'll generally be looking east to the Prairie, off a severe cliff face, and frequently battling high winds out of the west...which are trying to push you over. Occasionally, you will look down onto the backs of soaring eagles. It is quite an experience.

There's much more to talk about with regard to this place. I'll be writing on the remarkable biological diversity, natural /cultural history and bushcraft of my backyard. Its winter now; my busy season for teaching kids and the general public about winter ecology and winter survival. I love it, but its tough to find time for myself. Still need to get out there and look for some pine marten before the season is over. Cheers!