Saving Nature at Ives Road Fen

Cutleaf Toothwort Dentaria laciniata (Chuck Pearson)

Can we save nature? This question has vexed humans for some time.  Several generations ago, we wanted to be saved from nature: from the wild animals beyond the campfire, floods and droughts, storms at sea. Then, with our increased technological prowess, the question became seemingly irrelevant.  For the last four decades, since the first Earth Day, as we became more fully aware that we depend on nature to sustain us, some people have worked, even fought, to save nature.  And thanks to efforts by people organized through groups like The Nature Conservancy, much of nature has been saved.


Now, as we confront the complexities of the relationship between humans and nature, we seem more conflicted.  Perhaps we have saved enough of nature, and some people believe it's not worth the additional effort to save any more.  Others are discouraged about how much of nature keeps slipping away and are angered about our slow progress in saving it.  And some, looking hard at the foundations of nature--the chemistry and physics of our world--are alarmed.

Why, and for whom, and how are we saving nature?  All tough questions that are rightly being asked.  The answers are not always easy, and the implications behind the questions, not to mention the answers, challenge how we live and what we believe.  All of it can tax my energy, or startle me awake  in the night.  But on a beautiful Saturday in May, I found a curative for the discomfort from, if not a full answer to, the question, "Can we save nature?"


Garlic Mustard, a pungent plant introduced by European settlers, threatens the Nature of the Great Lakes. It grows in our northern woods and crowds out the cutleaf toothwort, the trillium, the trout lily, and all the other signature wildflowers that make being out in May in Michigan so special.  Like many others who care for a special place in the woods, I have spent many a Saturday gently pulling out garlic mustard in the Spring before it goes to seed.  While I usually donate my time in a woodlot along the Shiawassee River, recently I spent a day at The Nature Conservancy's Ives Road Fen Preserve which straddles the River Raisin south of Tecumseh.

Every Saturday from April through November, volunteers work somewhere on the 700 acres Ives Road Fen Preserve.  In the Spring, the primary task is removal of garlic mustard from the floodplain forest; its health is important to the quality of the watershed and the River.  In Fall, volunteer efforts are directed to removing woody plants from another part of the Preserve: a rare fen that stretches out below the bluff of a glacial moraine, but above the River.  A fen is a wetland fed by the underground flow of water, rather than collected surface water (see my earlier post "Marsh, Fen, or Swamp?").  The water is highly alkaline and whole communities of special plants live only in this ecosystem. The fen at Ives Road is particularly diverse in the flora and fauna found there: the white flowers of of prairie Indian plantain and the song of Blanchard's cricket frog are two of the highly valued rare species that live in the fen.

Preservation Depends on Restoration at Ives Road Fen and for many other parts of nature.  When the site was acquired in 1987, many unique plants were identified, but they were in danger of disappearing because of several invasive plants, most notably glossy buckthorn, an ornamental plant that spreads quickly into open areas like a fen.  In addition, drainage tiles and ditches had been installed on the property in an unsuccessful attempt to make it productive for agricultural uses.  Nearby, gravel pits had been dug and suburban development encroached on the site.  Saving this piece of nature would require more than buying it.

The Nature Conservancy has made a significant investment in Ives Road Fen.  Not only buying the original fen and acquiring surrounding lands, but in re-engineering hydrology to restore the natural flow of water, carefully burning parts of the sites to encourage the growth of native plants, and attacking the invasive species that had degraded original environment.  Scientists have closely studied the site, and restoration professionals have guided the work, to ensure that the right actions were taken at the right time in the right places, but it has been volunteer labor that has made possible the restoration of Ives Road Fen.

Just a few seasons ago, The Nature Conservancy declared victory with the removal of the last adult glossy buckthorn, a milestone achieved after thousands of hours of volunteer work.  An estimated 2.5 million buckthorn stems have been cut, and more than 400 piles of debris have been burned; in addition, thousands of purple loosestrife and other invasive plants have been eliminated.  The end result is the expansion of a damaged six acre wetland to a functioning fen of 100 acres.

Why Bother? is a question some may ask.  Countless individuals have dedicated large parts of their professional and volunteer lives to this restoration project.  School groups, employees from Ford and Delta, Americorps workers, and Saturday warriors have battled muck, bugs, thorns, heat, cold, poison sumac and other discomforts to save a wetlands that to the untrained eye may not seem that special.  And the work must continue, with prescribed burns, removal of new invasive species, and other maintenance projects.  A stand of rare oaks, remnants of the oak openings that used to define this part of the Great Lakes till plain, survives and, with attention, could once again thrive.  Fields are being restored as prairies, gravel pits returned to nature, and woodland wildflowers are being uncovered from smelly weeds.

My first visit to the Preserve came after several days of struggling with big issues like the threats to the Great Lakes and the changing climate of the Earth. For me, I found the task of pulling out individual garlic mustard plants a simple task, that was profound in its meaning and its effect.  I was humbled to be in a woods I could not see beyond, and humbled to know that my one morning's effort paled in comparison to the work of the regular and frequent volunteers working with me. But I thought of all the damage done to this place, and all the harm done to nature elsewhere, and my singular action became not just a tiny offering of help to this Preserve; rather, it helped restore me as well.  Call it a romantic idyll, or karma, or atonement, but I came away from the day inspired to do more, to act on the opportunities--large and small-- before me.

How can we save nature? One plant and one person at a time, in one place that matters to us.   Chuck Pearson, the volunteer who has directed his retirement years to restoring Ives Road Fen Preserve, answers the question of "Why?" most directly: "I like the plants; I like the animals.  I feel like it's something I can save."

TNC's Roldofo Zuniga-Villegas and volunteer Chuck Pearson, two of the many people dedicated to restoration

How to Visit - How to Help -- Ives Road Fen Preserve is not generally open to the public, but special tours are possible:  click here to learn more about the Preserve.

The best way to visit the Preserve is on a Saturday morning as a volunteer.  Click here to learn more about how you can help restore and preserve this special area.  The Preserve also has a Facebook page.

Volunteers on a recent workday (Chuck Pearson)                                             

Smartphones and Nature

"Clearly, we have compiled a record of serious failures in recent technological encounters with the environment," wrote ecologist Barry Commoner in 1969.  His point of view reflects the suspicion, if not antagonism,  that some environmentalists have had about the engineering advances of modern society.  Recently, I took some new technology along with me on my encounter with the environment of Northern Michigan, and while I don't think this is what Commoner was warning us about, the interaction was positive, mostly. As we keep learning, technology should always be our servant and not our master.


Smartphones and the many "apps" that they can carry are a useful tool in our offices and our homes: they organize, entertain, and connect us.  Increasingly, the power to link us to information--scientific 

iBird Pro shot of the Kirtland's Warbler

and cultural, temporal and geographic--has made a smartphone a handy accompaniment to outdoor adventures as well.  As an avid ornithologist, early on I acquired a bird-watching app that enables me to have a comprehensive guide with descriptions, range maps, photos and even bird calls in my pocket, and without the need to tout a heavy field guide. I also like being able to quickly note when and where I sighted a particular species  (I use the iBird Pro, but there are other comparable, cheaper, and perhaps, for you, better apps out there).  

For exploring Michigan, I have made use of not only the ever-improving map functions on my iPhone, but have thankfully relied on the DNR's Camping and Recreation Locator (info here).  This tool can help you find nearby campgrounds, boat launches, and other state park facilities.  You can search a region or around a specific place, including a chosen number of miles within your current location.  I have found it particularly useful for locating one of the many small state forest campgrounds.  These rustic (i.e. no bathrooms with running water) campsites are among some of my favorite places to camp while exploring the Upper Peninsula ((check out the campground at the mouth of the Two Hearted River on Lake Superior).  The App easily connects to Google maps thus easing your navigation.  You can also be linked to the reservation system for state park campgrounds.

A Preserve in the Hand is now possible with smartphone apps that are linked to a specific land conservancy.  The largest environmental organization, The Nature Conservancy, has a new app called Nature Near You that locates many of their preserves and allows you to learn about where they are working throughout the world. In Michigan, 16 preserves are listed with descriptions and detailed directions. The app also contains stylish features that allow for taking, sharing, and viewing photos of the beautiful places encountered in the wild.  Additional development of this tool for exploring the work of The Nature Conservancy is underway.

Another of Michigan's excellent land trusts, the Little Traverse Conservancy, has a useful app, LTC Explorer, that provides an in-hand user guide to northwest Michigan and parts of the Eastern UP. I recently put it and my iPhone to the test on a winter weekend in the Boyne City-Petoskey area.  The first day out, four of us loaded up our cross-country skis and headed first to Young State Park on Lake Charlevoix.  The DNR's app provided the location; the little nordic skier logo let us know we could expect to enjoy this activity, which we did by following the many tracks of previous skiers on several miles of trail.  The highlight was a detour to ski on the frozen lake and make snow angels. 

The LTC Explorer app got us to our second ski site, the Hill Nature Preserve, just north of Boyne City with a handy link to my iPhone's mapping app.  This function could, of course, be used without the LTC app, but the challenge in finding preserves is securing a street address for a non-urban location that lacks any structures (that's why we go, right?).  The conservancy-specific app has the location of the preserves already loaded so that navigation becomes the first step in going to a preserve.  Lots of additional features make the LTC Explorer app a particularly useful tool. In addition to descriptive information and photos, the app has a feature that allows visitors to make comments about their visit, which in this case provides for occasional grooming reports.  The "check-in" feature provides a linkage to Facebook and Twitter. Also, at the Hill Nature Preserve site there is a link to a site-specific trail map with topographic information that helps one either seek out, or avoid, the steepest sections of the preserve.  We used the map to help locate a lunch spot with a scenic view out over Lake Charlevoix.

Over-reliance on Technology has created problems for societies throughout history who have thought that the new tool or technique would solve the difficulties of their current time and place.  And it's true that for me the slick design of an iPhone, the authoritative ease with which that much-desired fact appears, and the certainty of the flashing dot on a map screen all have left me enamored with the latest piece of in-the-field technology.  So, it was easy to start out for a snow-shoe trip near Petoskey confidently calling up the map on the LTC Explorer app and have my smartphone plot a course to it.  Of course, the map does not take into account seasonal or daily weather, and we soon found ourselves on one, and then another, snow-blocked road. If we had only looked at the old-fashioned printed guide, we would followed the written directions to the Skyline Trail preserve that brought us in from the north, where the road is plowed.

No matter.  We were there to snow-shoe, and we could tell from the mapping program that we were close to the preserve and we headed off cross-country charting our position both electronically and visually.  The large cellphone towers in the area provided reference points that kept us moving in the right direction; and their signals located us on Google maps, though we were frustrated that the "satellite" version depicted leaf-on photos that obscured some route options. But it all added to the adventure, and soon we were following my old companion the North Country Trail to a sweeping overlook of the Bear River Valley and Little Traverse Bay beyond.

Create Your Own Relationship with Nature.  It was a cautionary trip that reminded me that a good smartphone app cannot completely substitute for first-hand knowledge and diverse sources of information.  Look at a map, talk to locals, bring a compass, and--most importantly--keep your eyes up from the screen in your hand to read the landscape, look at the weather coming in, and enjoy the people your with.  And of course, there are still parts of Michigan that, thankfully, are out of range of celphone service.  And in such remote places, your smartphone is reduced to a camera that can also play music.  

We live in the information age and technology provides us a constant link to collective knowledge. Our smartphones will continue to evolve and new options for exploring nature will be part of our outdoor adventures.  The Nature Conservancy in Michigan is now attaching QR (Quick Response) codes to the back sides of preserve signs; they provide a real time connection to historical and ecological data. Geocaching, an early hobby of those with satellite-driven GPS units, has now moved to smartphone apps (read review of iphone options). Undoubtedly, there are, and will be, other great uses of smartphones in the wild. As with all technology, we need to be smarter than our phones and choose how, when, and where to employ science to enhance, rather than detract, from our relationship with nature. 

Winter Like it Used to Be

"In my day, the winters were so much more . . . snowy, or colder, or predictable" seems to be a frequent complaint I hear from mid-Michigan residents over the age of 30  (climate data shows that anyone under the age of 27 has never experienced a colder than average month, anytime of year).  I too remember my youth when I could open the back door most any day between Christmas and President's Day, throw on a pair of nordic skis, and take a cross-country exploration along the Shiawassee River.  Now, with climate change, these days are rare.  So, in a quest to find Winter Like It Used to Be, my wife Anna and I headed to the eastern shore of Lake Superior, and there in the Great White North found a very special place.  And, a very good conservation story as well.

The Algoma Highlands muscle in on Lake Superior north of Sault Ste Marie and in so doing create one of the most beautiful big landscapes of the Great Lakes. Underlying the hills, and much apparent in cliffs along the shore, are some of earth's oldest rocks, remnants of geological upheavals that occurred long before life appeared on the planet.  As we headed north across the flat eastern Upper Peninsula, across the now tamed St. Mary's River, and dropped down the big hill into the plain of the Goulais River, we were stepping back some two millions years from the young, glacial topography of the lower Great Lakes to the Precambrian era of the Canadian Shield.  The temperature was a minus -9 F (-22 C) and there was lots of snow on the ground.

In the early 20th Century, the beauty of the Algoma Highlands attracted Canadian landscape artists like Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven. 

Our destination was Stokely Creek, a small resort from another time and country.  With miles of groomed cross-country ski trails, a Scandinavian aesthetic to the lodge buildings, an absence of televisions and vehicles, and a warm social atmosphere, Stokely Creek is a respite from the hectic 21st American Century. It begins when you park your car at the edge of the resort and ski in to the lodge, it deepens when you sneak off into the woods and the creek plays hide and seek among snow and ice, and it transform you when you discover a frozen waterfall, a glimpse of Lake Superior from one of the high points, or the sight of a wolf on an ice covered lake.  For me, the snow, the silence, and the setting of Stokely Creek create winter the way it should be.

Creating, and Preserving, a Place like Stokely Creek takes dedication, and time, and in this case the efforts of several generations of several families, business partners, and a local land conservancy.  The resort opened in the late 1970s and Chuck Peterson, the founder, then spent the next two decades building the business, setting trails, and patiently acquiring surrounding parcels.  At the time of his death in 2000, he had assembled a precious natural area of more than 8,000 acres.  Unfortunately, as is sometimes the case, the estate process was not straightforward or quick.  Eventually, a creative partnership was formed between a logging company, who purchased most of the property, the Byker-Phair family, who acquired the lodge buildings and continue to operate the resort, and the Algoma Highlands Conservancy, who protected 2,600 ecologically important acres of the land.

The partnership balances the economic returns of logging and tourism, with the environmental benefits of land protection, with the socio-spiritual attachments people and families form with certain places over time.  Susan and Gaylen Byker have been an important force, helping to broker the deal that allows Stokely Creek exclusive right to use and maintain 120 kilometers of trails on various parcels owned by a logging company or the Conservancy.  They have also financially supported the Conservancy in their land acquisitions, and provided them office space as well.   Asked why he went to this trouble, Gaylen Byker points to his grandchildren and says, “We want to save this place for the next generation.”






Legacy Lessons become clear as one learns the history of this special place. First, it's hard work that requires a passion for place and the future.  Land preservation can make economic sense, but the parties involved usually also have an awareness of some greater goals and obligations.  Second, preservation is rarely a one-time deal and true conservation takes time.  The Algoma Highlands Conservancy still carries a debt  from its acquisition of King Mountain and surrounding areas that complements its Robertson Lake Cliffs landholding.  Fortunately, fundraising is proceeding well, most recently with a Foster a Forest campaign that enables the Conservancy to receive matching funds for every dollar donated.  Finally, the saga of the last 12 years reminds all of us involved in land preservation that foresight and planning are valuable components of any conservation effort. (Note: if you are planning a legacy gift of land or financial assets, you should make sure that you have consulted with the beneficiaries and that your estate plan is clear and current.)

The Great Lakes have many legacy places that enrich the landscape.  We enjoy many national, state, provincial, and local parks because of the foresight of elected officials and engaged citizens sometime in the past.  The land trust and conservancy movement has grown up in the last 60 years to provide for land preserves now totaling hundreds of thousands of acres, and private individuals, their families, and their companies take action day in and day out to sustain nature.  Recently, it has become clear that to protect these places, we will need to do more than secure and steward land.  The actions of surrounding neighbors can have a deleterious impact; poorly planned public roads, power facilities, and other infrastructure investments can change the character of a place; the arrival of invasive species on land or water can harm an ecosystem in a season; and larger environmental changes to air, water, and climate can have a disastrous consequences on even the best protected nature preserves.  If we are truly to hand down a legacy of nature, place, and environmental health to our children and their children, then we need to turn our energies to policies as well as places.

Our weekend in the Algoma Highlands did take me back to a winter that met or surpassed my romanticized memories, and for that I am thankful.  But, the morning we left, the weather turned, and it began to rain.  There is work to do.

Useful Links

• To learn more about the ongoing efforts to protect this place, and to make a donation, go to www.algomahighlandsconservancy.org
• To plan a winter ski vacation, or other season visit, go to www.stokelycreek.com
• To learn more about creating a conservation legacy with your land or other assets, you can visit this useful site of The Nature Conservancy or learn more about options for land donation from the Land Trust Alliance. 
• To learn more about the Group of Seven and visiting the places that inspired these artists, go here

King Mountain in the background

Great River, Great Lakes

The Confluence 

When I started this quest and this blog, I wanted to add more places to my set of outdoor achievements (you can read my first blog post here).  I look at my shelves and certain books I keep as touchstones to learnings and life moments.  How too to keep the experience of a day in the dunes, a week in the woods, a summer on a lake, or a lifetime in a place?  A nature preserve is a defined place, with a sign and legal boundaries, and usually something that can be comprehended in a day or two of exploring.  But more and more, I am confronting the existential challenge of how to know a place that is too big to experience in any easy or accessible way.  Recently, I found myself beyond the familiar Great Lakes, and I pondered anew what it takes to know a place.

The Mississippi River is perhaps the single most defining geographic feature in the middle of North America.  The waters from 32 States and two Canadian provinces, about 40 percent of the continental United States, drain down the Mississippi River into the Gulf of Mexico.  As it passes by New Orleans in mid-October, the River carries an average of about 400,000 cubic feet of water per second (cfs).  This is 3,605 times what the Shiawassee River carries through my hometown on a given day this time of year.  After almost 50 years of knowing and canoeing and working to protect the Shiawassee, I am beginning to have a sense of it as a place (read more here), but trying to know the Mississippi is not possible.

Still, I enthusiastically said "Yes" to a chance to experience the Mississippi and spend a day traveling on it from Alton, Illinois to St. Louis Missouri with a group of volunteer conservationists like myself, as well as some well-informed experts.  I came away with a rich natural experience, and while I still can't think of the Mississippi River as a place, I can now think of its a "whole system" that deserves our appreciation, care, and serious attention.  So too is the Great Lakes system.

Whole System Conservation has become the current leading edge of work at The Nature Conservancy and other agencies and organizations who are thinking about the protection of natural places and the promotion of a sustainable economy.  For 60 years The Nature Conservancy has evolved in its mission to protect nature and preserve life, starting with the application of new tools to take land protection to a bigger scale through the use of easements, leveraging limited public dollars, and by creating the world's largest conservation organization to identify, acquire, and steward the most important natural places.  Always guided by the best science, The Nature Conservancy undertook eco-regional planning to protect a network of preserves throughout first North America, and then other continents, and oceans.

It has become clear that to protect one place, we need to look beyond the boundaries of a preserve, park, or otherwise set-aside land.  Water and air, as well as flora and fauna, are not constrained by lines on a plat map, nor is pollution, invasive species, or threats that come from incompatible development.  We must think about the entire ecological--and economic and cultural--systems that encompasses each preserve we care about.  To keep a place healthy, the system it is a part of has to be healthy.

The confluence of the Missouri (left) and Mississippi (right)
Note the barge, a key service provided by the River

To be effective at whole system conservation one must keep three things in mind.  First, one needs to look at the dominant ecological functions and geographic features that define an ecosystem.  The Mississippi River is defined by the flow of water, its interaction with and from the surrounding land, and the movement of species up, down, and through the system.  Second, we need to think not just about places and species, but ecological services, such as clean water, that keeps the system healthy.  Finally, whole system conservation must keep the needs and role of people foremost in the development of any strategy or plan of action, because humanity now can have the biggest impact, good and/or bad, on any natural system.   You can read more about this conservation approach and download a concept paper at this link.

The Great Rivers and the Great Lakes are the types of whole systems The Nature Conservancy is committed to protecting.  The Mississippi River supports not only unique and diverse life forms, but also a thriving economy.  Barge traffic moves essential commodities up and down the River, and the level, course, and flow of the Mississippi has long been managed through dams, levees, dredging, and other massive engineering interventions.  The River has also always been a source of life, not only for aquatic and terrestial species, but also for human culture long before, and through, several waves of Euro-American settlement.  The challenge is to know and understand all of these many needs and factors, which are sometimes competing and sometimes complementary, and manage the whole system for the benefit of both nature and people.

Since 2005, The Nature Conservancy has worked not only on the Mississippi, but on several large river systems throughout the world.  The Great Rivers Partnership has developed better knowledge about these multi-factored systems, brought together stakeholders to address conservation needs, and allowed for a higher level of policy work and attention to protect these large water flows that define our homes.  The same approach is being taken for other large systems, most notably for me the Great Lakes, that cross state and national boundaries.  The goal is not necessarily more protected places, but a healthier system that protects more places.

The Confluence.  For me, a former geography student, amateur historian, and committed conservationist, the highlight of my recent trip was to pass by the confluence of the Missouri and  Mississippi Rivers, some 10 miles north of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis.  Having spent several years now thinking about watersheds, seeing the waters of so much of North America converge at one spot made a great impact, intellectually more so than visually.  On our journey we heard how the fertility and geography of the region of the confluence led to the development of a major pre-Columbian cultural and community centered on nearby Cahokia, that in 1200 AD was probably larger than any European city.   As well, I thought much about this one particular place as the preparation and starting point for Meriwether Lewis and William Clark and their Corps of Discovery that they led west from here in 1804 up the Missouri, across the continental divide, and then on to the Pacific Ocean.

It is difficult for one particular place to embody the larger geographic and cultural significance of a region, but the confluence did it for me.  The particular good news about this place is that many private and public conservation groups, including the Army Corps of Engineers, have worked to protect thousands of acres of wetlands, floodplain forests, and surrounding grasslands.  But we will not be successful if we work to save only the immediate places, even as compelling and valuable as the confluence is.  Instead, we need to think about the one place as the embodiment of the whole system we seek to protect and preserve.  The whole system must get our affection as well as the small place.

Celebrating Lake Erie

How to save a lake, and a Great Lake at that?  This is the question that faces those of us who care about the body of water that supports more fish, and sport fishing, than any other Great Lake; the lake whose shorelines provide some of North America’s most critical habitats for migrating waterfowl; the freshwater source of drinking water for 11 million people; and the lake that ties together the history and economy of two countries and five states.  The lake of course is Lake Erie, the smallest, shallowest, and perhaps most underappreciated of the Great Lakes.

On September 20 and 21 of 2012, trustees of The Nature Conservancy from the Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan Chapters gathered in the middle of Lake Erie to discuss what the nation’s largest conservation organization could do to help heal, protect, and promote Lake Erie.  Many public and private entities have both new and long-standing commitments to this threatened lake.  Notably, the International Joint Commission (IJC), the high-level body established in 1909 to monitor and protect the waters between Canada and the United States, recently adopted (only) three priorities for the next three years: the first is to improve water quality in Lake Erie (ijc.org/leep/).   The challenges, and the opportunities, are serious and real.

Gibraltar Island.  The first freshwater biological field station in the nation was established in 1895 on a small rock outcropping on the north side of Put-In-Bay, the town at the social center of Ohio’s Lake Erie Islands.  Today, the Stone Laboratory is operated by the Ohio State University as both a research and education facility; it is also home to the Ohio Sea Grant program.  Visible from the Lab is a tall memorial commemorating the peace that the United States and Canada have enjoyed for almost 200 years now; cooperation between the two countries will be necessary to restore Lake Erie.  As a place for scientists and conservationists from the Great Lakes to meet, Gibraltar Island was perfect.

View from the Peace Memorial of Put-in-Bay; Gibraltar Island is in the upper center

The islands in the middle of the western end of Lake Erie--Kelly’s, South Bass, and Pelee are the biggest of many low, rocky outcroppings—provide many ecological and economic benefits.  The shallow waters surrounding them are among the most productive in the Great Lakes and fishing here is part of the culture; neo-tropical warblers and other birds hop across the islands on their migrations north and south, and birdwatchers from around the world follow them; tourists and vacationers flock to the resorts, docks and open-air bars that are a short ferry ride from the mainland; and historic and well-visited wineries take advantage of the micro-climate.  The principle that our economy depends on nature is not an intellectual abstraction here.

Phosphorous, Farming, and Fish.  Cool mornings, fresh breezes, and glinting sunlight invigorated those of us on Gibraltar Island, and we (literally) jumped aboard an opportunity to go out on the water on small research vessels to learn about the ecology of Lake Erie.  On this day in this year, the story was a good one:  while the water clarity measured by a secchi disk was much less than I saw a few weeks ago on a ferry in northern Lake Huron, the sampling we made of the plankton and algae that clouds the water revealed to us the base of the food web that makes the fisheries of western Lake Erie so phenomenal.  The quick trawling run we made returned a plethora of fish:  walleye, yellow perch, and non-native white perch, but no invasive gobies. One statistic can say much, and the data point of the day was this: while Lake Erie contains only 2 percent of the total water in the Great Lakes, 50 percent of the fish live here.

The biological productivity of Lake Erie extends beyond its shoreline, or really vice-versa.  The watershed, which at its western end encompasses northeastern Ohio, southwestern Michigan, and parts of Indiana, contains rich farmland and supports a vital agricultural economy.  The Maumee River, the largest single tributary to the Great Lakes, drains this land and its mouth is the active port of Toledo.  The organic matter from this watershed transferred into the sun-warmed, shallow waters of western Lake Erie creates a perfect breeding ground for algae, plankton, and other plants that support the insect larvae, small fish, and other creatures that feed the gamefish that end up on the plates of anglers.

Extent of algae bloom in 2011 in Western Lake Erie (the Detroit River is in upper left)

But while humans have long benefitted from this natural land-water ecosystem, something has gotten out of whack in the last few years.  In 2011, warm weather and high levels of dissolved phosphorous (P) spawned a bloom of algae that Lake Erie had not experienced for decades.  In addition to fouling beaches, reducing oxygen levels, and driving fish (and fishermen) out of coastal areas, the rich soup of nutrients supported the growth of several species of blue-green algae including microcystin, a toxic cyanobacteria that can kill fish, birds, and mammals. While the full chain of scientific connections has not yet been made, it is clear that a rise in recent years of phosphorous in Lake Erie plays a key role.  This past summer, the near drought conditions have reduced run-off, and algae growth has been much lower.  However, another wet and warm year could easily spawn another algae bloom.

We Have Been Here Before.  In 1971, that keen cultural observer Dr. Seuss wrote about the mythical Humming Fish's search for a new clean-water home: “They’ll walk on their fins and get woefully weary in search of some water that isn’t so smeary.  I hear things are just as bad up in Lake Erie.”  In the 1960s, Lake Erie was declared dead as a result of algae blooms, the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland caught fire, and concern for the smallest of Great Lakes helped spur  the passage of the Clean Water Act in 1972.  The resulting investments in upgraded sewage treatment systems, bans on some detergents and fertilizers, and positive changes in agricultural practices resulted in major declines in phosphorous levels, cleaner water, and a restored Lake Erie.  In the 1980s, Dr. Seuss republished "The Lorax," source of the Humming Fish, deleting the above reference.  Now, people are quoting the original version again.

The shallow depth of Lake Erie makes it an ideal environment to grow algae, of both good and bad varieties.  The shallow depth also means that the total volume of water in the Lake is less than any other of the Great Lakes, and thus the water in the Lake, which is ever-flowing in from the Detroit River and out over Niagara Falls, turns over in just a few years.  The water in low-flow, deep Lake Superior takes several hundred years to be replace.  Thus, in the 1970s, the reduction in phosphorous inflows quickly resulted in a clean Lake Erie.

With the hope that reductions in phosphorous and rapid turnover can again help the Lake recover, scientists are looking into the sources and pathways that bring "Big P" into the Lake.  What we use to wash our clothes, how we get our lawns green, and how we make our crops grow all effect the amount of phosphorous in the ecosystem.  Lots of attention is being paid to agricultural practices:  what kinds, and when and how, fertilizer is applied to fields; when plowing does or does not occur; how we drain farmland and design ditches; and the types of crops grown in and out of season; all of these may play a role.

The Nature Conservancy has for several years worked in the upper watershed of the Maumee River to promote agricultural practices that reduce the run-off of fertilizer and sediment; now those efforts are being redoubled and expanded (read more here).  Many partners--from local conservation districts and agricultural supply companies to university researchers and advocacy groups on both sides of the border--are all seeking ways to reduce the amount of phosphorous in Lake Erie and thus reduce the algae blooms that threaten to kill the Lake again.

Where is the Coast? Lake Erie's water quality suffers too from the loss of wetlands along its coast and at the mouths of the rivers and creeks that flow into the lake.  These areas reduce erosion, slow down water, and allow plant life to absorb phosphorous and other nutrients.  Historically, the boundary between land and water in Western Lake Erie has been hard to define, as the shallow waters transitioned into marshes and upland swamps.  Over time, the boundary became hardened by dikes and development, coastal wetlands were drained or filled, and waterways dredged.  Now, this natural filter has been lost and 95 percent of the native wetland habitat destroyed.  Fortunately, public wildlife refuges and private duck hunting clubs saved some important areas (read here about my trip to Erie Marsh).

The Nature Conservancy has set, and moved on, several ambitious goals to restore the coastline of Lake Erie.  Already, 2,500 acres of wetlands have been re-established along the western end of the Lake, thanks in part to funding from the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative and other public and private sources.  Partnerships with Ducks Unlimited has helped fix and open dike systems so that wetlands have become connected with the flow of the Lake and waterfowl sites created.  Working with both public and private landowners, the Conservancy is halfway towards its goal of having 40 percent of the area within one mile of the shore in natural habitat.  Finally, land stewards appear to have found ways to get the upper hand on phragmites, the invasive marsh grass that crowds out native plants and animals and retards water flow.

Scheeff Nature Preserve

Place Matters.  In Western Lake Erie, The Nature Conservancy is successfully moving from its traditional focus on specific preserves to managing the whole ecosystem that is Lake Erie.  But with the move from sites to system, place still matters; it's just a matter of scale.  To mentally comprehend a whole Great Lake as a place requires an informed observer, but several things help.  First, getting out on the water gave me a true appreciation for the liquid, moveable nature of the place.  Secondly, standing on points of land and ascending the Peace Memorial above Put-In-Bay allowed me to see the full sweep of the ecosystem.  And finally, moving around--by car across the coastland of northeast Ohio, by ferry from and to the mainland, and by bike around South Bass Island--provided me with an appreciation of Lake Erie, and the people, who define this place.

After an intellectually challenging meeting, I was fortunate to be able to spend a little extra time exploring the place I was in.  I started my trip with a bike, and then walk, around the nine-acre Scheeff East Point Nature Preserve at the northern tip of South Bass Island.  On an island, small spots can take on a significance well beyond their size, and this is true with this coastal point that provides an important migratory landing pad for both birds and monarch butterflies.  As well, the endangered Lake Erie water snake comes ashore here.  Saving the property was a hard fought effort by locals, who acquired the site after old homes and vegetation had been cleared by a prospective developer.  On the day I visited, new sycamores were being planted to restore the site.  This is where it begins, with individual people caring enough to save a place.

The task before us is twofold.  First, we need to transfer the love of place from the specific to the whole landscape.  Lake Erie can be saved if we can change policies in two countries, if we can find the will to make large public investments in land and infrastructure, and if we can modify the cultural practices in how we use the land.   Second, if we can think about the whole ecosystem that is Lake Erie and celebrate what makes it special, then people from many walks of life will be inspired to take the individual actions necessary to save it.

If you plan to visit.  Lake Erie's shores and islands have a robust tourist infrastructure that takes in wildlife enthusiasts, boaters, anglers, and even those looking for a get-away resort or amusement park.  A comprehensive website www.shoresandislands.com is a good starting point to plan a visit.

The Ohio Sea Grant program has made available several useful publications about Lake Erie, including "Explore the Lake Erie Islands:  A Guide to Nature and History Along the Lake Erie Central Coast Trail" that contains useful background information, maps, and detailed advice on observing the natural history of the area (click here to order or download)

Thank you to the talented and committed Great Lakes staff of The Nature Conservancy for making this visit to Lake Erie possible.  Photo on the left is of TNC's Ohio State Director Josh Knights helping with fish sampling.  Thanks too to the Stone Lab staff for their hospittality.

Thank you to Lana Pollack, co-chair of the International Joint Commission, for the Dr. Seuss reference and for her leadership on Lake Erie (read more here).

Hiking and Biking Bois Blanc Island

There is something about being on an island: the onboard anticipation of the journey there, the defined boundaries of a shoreline, the sense of shared belonging with other castaways.  It's romantic escaping to an island, and as summer waned Anna and I spent a day marooned on Bois Blanc Island, where The Nature Conservancy (TNC) has protected over 200 acres of shoreline, swamps, inland lakes, and cedar-pine forest.  We biked, hiked, canoed, and discovered.

Islands of Life.  There are 32,000 islands in the Great Lakes, the world's largest collection of freshwater islands. "The Great Lakes islands are outstanding in terms of biological diversity.  These islands . .  include endemic species, rare habitats and critical biological functions.  They are important breeding and staging areas for colonial nesting waterbirds, harbour noteworthy assemblages of plants and animals and provide important stopover sites for migrating birds," according to a comprehensive analysis recently conducted by The Nature Conservancy and The Nature Conservancy of Canada with the support and assistance of the US Environmental Protection Agency and the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources. The report "Islands of Life" (click here for full report) documents the great biodiversity of these islands which are of importance to two nations.

"Island biogeography" describes the unique nature of those species that evolved and exist in water-isolated places.  Certain species may be lacking and other species may be overly abundant, both conditions creating different plant-animal-environment relationships.  Some species may be unique, or endemic, to one particular island or the special environments that predominate on islands.  And of course the limited geography of an island puts at risk those species that may live in a place that cannot be replicated or its natural residents easily moved.  The introduction of alien, invasive species can be particularly devastating. All of this bring islands to the attention of conservationists.

Bois Blanc, which locals pronounce as Bob-Lo, stretches across Lake Huron on the eastern edge of the Straits of Mackinace.  It exists as an island because of the tough dolomite and limestone of which it is made.  It is part of a long run of resistant geology that arcs across northeast Lake Huron and the largest of a short run of three islands:  Mackinac, Round, and Bois Blanc.  The name in French means white wood, either a reference to the birch trees that grow on the island or perhaps to the white timber of the basswood tree used to make canoes by the native americans who were the first inhabitants of the island.

Like most visitors, we reached Bois Blanc by ferry, less than six miles from Cheboygan, riding across on a Sunday morning where the smooth, dimpled water begged for a canoe (the return trip seven hours later, with a strong side wind and bigger seas that wet the decks, revealed the dangerous variations of the Great Lakes ).  We rode our mountain bikes along the graveled road that borders the south and east sides of the island, returning waves from friendly islanders who slowed down their trucks, old cars, or ATVs in an attempt to reduce the dust that followed their passage.  A short ride brought us to the familiar green-and-white sign of the Snake Island Preserve that The Nature Conservancy has maintained since 1987.

Snake Island, a former island that low water has now connected to the larger Bois Blanc Island, is so named for the preponderance of eastern massasauga rattlesnakes that abide there.  A hot day at the end of a dry season did not leave any snakes out for easy viewing, and we were only a little disappointed not to see any.  Also missing were the dwarf lake iris that bloom earlier in the year. From a rocky shoreline, the preserve stretches inland, paralleling another long State land holding.  We followed the well maintained, if uneven, trail for less than a mile through a tangle of cedars and what would be moist wetlands in a normal year, or in springtime.

The route passes by a small beaver pond, the somewhat larger Mud Lake, and then arrives at Thompson Lake.  There are six inland lakes on Bois Blanc.  Good fortune made a canoe available to us and we were able to take a short paddle around the Lake, one half of which is deep, the other half shallow.  No docks or shoreline structures were apparent to us.  Floating along the forest-lined shallow end, we watched a beaver enter the lake, and later saw it swim nearly under our canoe.

Returning to shore, we walked back to the road again, marveling in the quiet of the island.  Later, on the return ferry, I met a local who knew the TNC trail well:  he said he makes frequent pilgrimages to a secret spot on one of the inland bodies of water to contemplate and commune.  Our lunch on the sunny, open shore of Lake Huron was also a solitary moment for us, but much different than the quiet enclosure of wood and inland pond.  We were exposed to the wind. We thought about searching for a stand of old growth trees on additional TNC land to the north of Mud Lake, but our bikes called us on to explore more of the island

Biking a landscape may be the perfect compromise between the slow, quiet passage of a hike and the speedy consumption of views from a motor vehicle.  We followed the well-groomed gravel road north and then west on the far side of the island.  There, just past the turn to Lake Mary, we followed a narrow two track through mostly State Forest.  The deep white cobbles of old shorelines forced us off our bikes several times, but we were rewarded with views through the trees to Lake Huron and Mackinac Island in the distance.  Our bikes gave us an easy return across the island and Fire Tower Road brought us back within plenty of time to catch the final ferry of the day.


Islands are special, and Bois Blanc is one to put on your list for a visit.  On the mainland, forests and farm fields can stretch on from crossroads to small town to suburb to city.  Many of these locations are unique, but often we struggle to find a sense of place. We look for a landscape feature, or a historical site, or distinctive architecture to help fix ourselves in space.  Islands, by their very definition, offer a ready made sense of place: shoreline, the boundary of land by water, and the unique residents--animal, plant, and human--are a strong statement of place.  In our busy, over-developed, under-appreciated region, our Great Lakes islands are places to be enjoyed, treasured, and saved.

To Visit:  take the ferry from Cheboygan (information and schedule here) and upon landing, head east and then north on Bob-Lo Drive until you see the TNC sign.  The trail to Thompson Lake is shortly after the sign on the left (west) side of the road.  Snake Island is another 100 yards or so on the right (east) side of the road where there is a small parking area.  Follow the old two-track to the cobble beach.

Legacies from Legacies

Where did you gain your interest in nature?  What were your first experiences in the out-of-doors?  Who first introduced you to the mysteries and joys of some special place?  These thoughts crossed my mind as I attended the dedication of a preserve addition on a Great Lakes shore on a blue-sky day in July.

Big Trout Lake is the new gem in the crown of properties The Nature Conservancy (TNC) protects along the northern shore of Lake Huron in the Les Cheneaux region of the eastern Upper Peninsula.  After several years of fundraising and effort, 722 acres of land were recently acquired to expand the existing 828 acre Carl Gerstacker Preserve at Dudley Bay.  This preserve, which TNC started to assemble in 1993, protects valuable shoreline, upland forests, and Little Trout Lake.  The new expansion contains an outstanding Aspen-Birch-Spruce-Fir forest and Big Trout Lake, a large inland body of water virtually free of development.

The rocky, island-studded, wooded north shore of Lake Huron plays a critical role in the ecological vitality of the Great Lakes (click here to see my account of an earlier visit to the area).  For many years, TNC has been working with a number of researchers from several universities to learn more about the importance of the region's shallow waters to support fish reproduction, the refueling stations for migratory birds in the spring, and the complex interactions between water quality, wetlands, near shore forests, insect life and the birds and fish who feed on them.

Jerry Jung and his daughter

Legacies of Legacies.  It is science that directs TNC's preservation of ecological hotspots like the Les Cheneaux coastal region, but what is the motivation of the donors who make it possible to protect these places?  Of course, many supporters are impressed with the science basis of TNC's efforts, and they certainly see how preserves like Gerstacker at Dudley Bay add to the quality of life and local economy of a resort region like the Les Cheneaux.  However, when donors speak about their motivations they often recall their youth and some one, and/or some place, that made them into the people they are.

Jerry Jung, a long-time supporter of TNC, and one of the donors of the Big Trout Lake expansion, spoke only briefly at the dedication of the improved preserve, but he mentioned two things.  First, he recalled his grandmother, Alma Jung; secondly, he spoke warmly about spending time with her as a child on the shore of Lake Michigan.  Significantly, he also brought with him his three children to share in the creation of this legacy of a preserve.  His mother's name will be on the dedication sign at Big Trout Lake.

The recollection of people and places seems typical of conversations with conservationists.  A vacation spot cherished for generations, a trip with a relative to an exotic locale, summer camp, and the care of interest of an aunt, grandfather, counselor, or other adult with a commitment to nature all seem to be common threads among those who work, or give, or write, or research, or otherwise conserve our natural places.  We talk of preserves as a legacy for the future, and they very much are, but they are also  embodiments of a legacy of some earlier very personal experience.

Little LaSalle Island.  After the dedication of the new addition to the Carl Gerstacker Preserve, I was fortunate to be able to visit another TNC property in the Les Cheneaux area, the 104 acre Little LaSalle Island Preserve south of Cedarville.  Accessible only by boat, this preserve too is a legacy of a legacy.    After several decades of family summers exploring the shores and bays of the Les Cheneux area, Sam Benedict made a land donation to The Nature Conservancy in 1976.

Olle Karlstrom leads an
expedition on Little
LaSalle Island

His daughter, Libby Maynard, who has served as a trustee of TNC's Michigan Chapter, recalls learning to walk there, finding beaches on other islands as a teen, and sailing a wooden L class sailboat in the sheltered waters of northern Lake Huron.  This family's attachment to place continues, and will be a perpetual legacy, thanks to the creation of this very special preserve.  As Libby's husband Olle led us across ancient and new shorelines on the island, and we clambered through and around larch-studded wetlands, we were taunted by the cries of a circling bald-eagle, who thought we were too close to a nest we never saw.


The Next Generations.  Following the publication of Richard Louv's book "Last Child in the Woods," new attention has been given to the importance of the outdoor life for children.  There are many benefits that nature provides to young people in their growth and development, but when children become adults they can make a repayment.  They volunteer, they give, they teach the next generation, or find other ways to employ their concern for and connection to nature.  Certainly the nature that is the Les Cheneaux region has benefitted from the youthful lessons of place and people that continue to work to protect the Great Lakes.

To Visit.  The Les Cheneux islands in the area of Cedarville and Hessel are a great place for a multi-day vacation or a short-term expedition (go to www.lescheneaux.net for information).  You can learn more about the Carl Gerstacker Preserve at Dudley Bay at the website of The Nature Conservancy in Michigan (click here for information and directions.)

TNC's Michigan Director Helen Taylor outlines past, present, and future plans
to protect the Les Cheneaux shoreline of Lake Huron