Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Tracks, Trails, and the Value of Nature

Get outside! This winter has been long, cold, and stormy, but rather than admit defeat I headed to the Upper Peninsula for a few days of snowshoeing and cross-country skiing. And while making my own tracks, I discovered the tracks of the others who enjoy the outdoors, both animal and human.  Following a trail got me thinking that perhaps land preservation efforts should be linear, as well as holistic.

Land Preservation Looks Rectangular when one examines a map of any area that identifies property ownership west of the Appalachians, thanks to the Public Land Survey System originally devised by Thomas Jefferson.  I started my weekend by scouting a map of the area north and east of Marquette, Michigan trying to locate a parcel that had recently been donated to The Nature Conservancy (TNC).  I saw a quilted pattern of state-owned land, protected timber lands, in-holdings, and the brightly identified protected sites, including TNC's Echo Lake Preserve.

Exploring Little Garlic Balds Preserve

All of this is in the Michigamme Highlands, an area where the glaciers exposed some of the oldest rocks in North America: granitic outcroppings, or balds, that are home to unique plant communities.  While there are extensive public land holdings in the area, the region's ecological integrity is threatened by unsustainable logging, mining, and scattered site development.  Fortunately, The Nature Conservancy and other groups have secured several preserves thanks to legacy gifts from landowners, generous donors, and the creative purchase of development rights of timber lands. The latter was part of the Northern Great Lakes Forest Project, the so-called "Big Deal," which is Michigan's largest conservation effort.

The Blue (and White) Blaze.  Cutting across the map of patchwork squares on my map was a squiggly line, giving creative character to the right-angle polygons of property lines.  It ran from the entrance to the Echo Lake Preserve, nicked the corner of the new preserve, and ended at the Little Garlic River Falls.  This is a spur of the North Country Trail, an aspiring Appalachian Trail that runs from upstate New York, down through Ohio, and up and across both of Michigan's Peninsulas, before heading north to Minnesota's Boundary Waters and then west to North Dakota.

In 2006, I followed the blue blazes which mark the North Country Trail as I hiked from the Mackinac Bridge to Marquette.  But there, the trail has gaps, and there is no dedicated trail across the wilderness northeast of Marquette.  Several temporary routes have been marked, maps have been carefully perused, and at least two trails have started off only to end up short. I had been stumped before in this area, and I was pleased to soon find myself on snowshoes following the white blazes that mark a spur of the North Country Trail.

Tracks among the Trails.  In winter, snowshoeing offers one of the best ways to get outside.  Not only do you gain the ability to forge through deep snow, but the physical exertion involved quickly warms you up.  Even though the morning temperature had read 3 F when we left the car, in less than 30 minutes I was shedding a layer of down.  At first, we easily followed the well compacted tracks of previous snowshoers; soon we headed off on our own to find the new TNC preserve.  Liberated from the need to follow a trail, but cognizant of our location, we were able to explore a frozen wetland, examine a wooded deer yard, and then follow an iced stream back to the Little Garlic River.

Of course, we left our own snowshoe tracks, but several days without new snow presented us with a view of many other tracks.  We saw the regular route of red squirrels from tree trunk to tree trunk, a deer path defined narrow but deep by hoof prints, and the delicate markings of a small, but brave rodent.  I was most intrigued by a path on a frozen pond that looked as if it were made by someone dragging a small sack, or rolling a ball.  It took the experienced Tina Hall, TNC's chief in the UP, to inform me that we were observing the track of an otter sliding along on its belly between holes in the ice.

A Linear Approach to Land Preservation.  Looking at curving lines on a map, examining haphazard markings across the landscape, and following official blazes, got me thinking about how trails might help guide and inspire conservation efforts. We have shifted in our perspective of land preservation, and increasingly we are asking what the human benefit will be from environmental protection.  While the notion of untrammeled wilderness still appeals to me, the historical record shows that humans have long influenced landscapes (see my previous blog post), and the scale of the impact of humans on the planet has caused scientist to label our current geological age as the Anthropocene. We cannot separate ourselves from the land.

The question before us as conservationists is how to determine the proper, sustainable relationship between humans and the natural world, both in terms of minimizing our impacts and appropriately valuing the benefits nature provides us.  In a time and place where too few people are getting outdoors, trails of all manner provide an increasingly popular way for people to appreciate the benefits of nature. Whether it be hiking or snowshoeing on a footpath, or biking on an old industrial rail line converted for human-powered transportation, trails give quick and enjoyable access to the outdoors.

The Nature Conservancy has long accommodated trails.  Hiking routes on preserves, as well as long-haul routes like the North Country Trail, cross TNC property.  The "Big Deal" in the UP protects privately-owned natural lands, that accommodate both sustainable logging as well as recreational uses.  In addition to foot trails like the Fox River Pathway being restored by TNC, other linear uses are accommodated on TNC preserves.  For the last two years, the UP 200, a popular dogsled race out of Marquette, has crossed TNC preserves.  And in the Two-Hearted River Forest Reserve, TNC has worked with snowmobile clubs to provide bridges and locate trails to improve safety and allow for access to the north woods.  The bridges are part of important work to reduce erosion and polluted run-off into the trout stream made famous by Hemingway (see this slide show).

Economic Benefit of Trails.  The Upper Peninsula has a long and checkered history of using its natural resources for economic gain.  This history came to the forefront on the second day of my winter outing when I put on cross country skis to explore the snow-covered Iron Ore Heritage Trail.  This recently developed trail follows an old rail line from downtown Marquette to the community of Republic, 47 miles to the west.  Opening this past summer for use by bikers and hikers, this paved trail in winter is used mostly as a snowmobile trail.  However, the historic stretch between Negaunee and Ishpeming is groomed as a cross-country ski trail.  I appreciated the gentle grade and the well-set tracks.

The trail passes the Jackson Mine, the first iron ore mine begun in the Upper Peninsula, and I was moved skiing into the relatively small pit that workers began to dig out in 1847. The human ingenuity and hard work, the lasting impact on the land, the boom and bust economy, and the now legendary history are all tangible on the new trail.  Well-done interpretive signs, remnant pieces of mining equipment, old buildings, and deep pits hewn into the rock all make the Upper Peninsula's historical relation to nature very real.

Now, instead of extracting wealth in the form of minerals from the soil, Michigan has discovered the economic benefits of trails, associated tourism, and their improvement to quality of life in our communities.  While a wide body of research shows the economic and community benefits of trails (read more here), our practical experience has also grown.  Heavily used bike trails now abound in much of the Lower Peninsula, snowmobile trails keep the Upper Peninsula busy in winter, and Marquette and other communities have established celebrations around dogsled races and other outdoor pursuits.

Nature has value.  Those of us who head to the woods or waters know the personal and spiritual benefits we get from time outdoors. We also understand that clean water and a favorable climate also come from nature, as long as humans act as responsible stewards.  Increasingly, we see that nature can also help us build a sustainable economy around agriculture, logging, and tourism when those activities are undertaken with thought and foresight. Trails create value by giving us access to the outdoors, by promoting responsible use of nature by locals and visitors alike, and by helping us create an awareness and appreciation of places. Perhaps we can use trails to better connect human communities to the natural communities upon which they depend, and make us neighbors rather than adversaries.


If you want to get out in the UP this coming weekend, join a guided snowshoe hike at the Gerstacker Preserve east of Cedarville on Saturday (2/15); info here

If you want to visit TNC Preserves in the Marquette area, and gain some tips for exploring them in warmer weather, read this blog post

Get all the details on the UP 200 Dogsled Race here

You can learn more about the Iron Ore Heritage Trail in Marquettte, and get directions and maps, here

  

thanks Tina 
(and Bruce) for the hospitality














Next Week:  Think Greatly (Lakes), Act Locally

Thursday, February 6, 2014

"The Once and Future Great Lakes Country"

Land conservancies rightly seek to protect and preserve undisturbed natural places: the forests, marshes, shorelines, and all those pieces of nature that represent a time before human settlement.  "If only," we say as we look at an old growth stand of white pine and imagine what the North Woods was before logging, or as we peruse an analysis of the loss of coastal wetlands. Reading John L. Riley's "The Once and Future Great Lakes Country: An Ecological History" occasioned such thoughts, but the historical and scientific depth of the book re-aligned my understanding of the relationship between humans and the landscape, both in the past and for the work now before us.  There is much beauty to recall, and loss to lament, as we review the history of the Great Lakes, but mythologizing the past may hamper our ability to assure our future.

A Canadian Perspective is what I first expected, as the author is the Chief Science Officer of The Nature Conservancy in Canada, and as the book is published by McGill-Queen's University Press.  And while the book takes in an enormous historical and geographic scope--from Pre-Cambrian geology to the invasion of quagga mussels, and from the upper Hudson River to the Rainy River--the point of view is from north of the border.  Of course, when considering an ecological geography, political boundaries are not helpful in making a definition; though governments can make a big difference in our ability to protect an eco-region.

For a Michigander like myself, Canada has never been far away or too foreign, but I learned a lot from this book about the natural history of Ontario and the St. Lawrence River.  John Riley starts his book with an engaging account of the history of the area around his home, a former farm in the Niagara Escarpment just northwest of Toronto.  From here, he covers a lot of geology, biology and history, but his account is grounded in a Canadian perspective. It's both beneficial and instructive for us Americans to get out of our parochial attitudes and look at the Great Lakes from another direction.

First-Hand Accounts of Nature from early explorers and settlers, as well as early native voices, are the strength of this book, and Riley organizes these accounts both chronologically (e.g. "The Land Beyond Memory: Before 1500") as well as by environmental topics ("Taking the Wildlife: 1500-1900").  There are some rich details, like Cadillac's 1701 description of the bison seen in the area southwest of Lake Erie, a "boundless prairies (with) mighty oxen which are covered with wool."  Or the late 18th Century account of Lady Simcoe's visit to Niagara Falls in which she encountered hundreds of rattlesnakes in the cliffs.  Riley notes that before hydropower diversions, the water in Niagara River measured 25 feet deep (or high?) as it flowed over the Falls.

Lady Simcoe's sketch of Niagara Falls, 1792 (Archives of Ontario)

I was particularly impressed with the accounts of the fecundity of fish, like the large schools of Atlantic salmon found in Lake Ontario, six foot sturgeons in Lake Michigan, and the native catch of whitefish in Sault Ste. Marie, "easily enough to feed 10,000 men" according to one 1669 eyewitness.  Riley also writes about the Iroquios nation's reliance on the eel, noting that settlement patterns of the tribes around Lake Ontario are defined by the highest upstream migration of eel. The stories of the great productivity of fish as food stock in the pre-historic Great Lakes are wistful background to todays news accounts about the struggles to re-establish lake trout or sturgeon.

The Re-Wilding of the Great Lakes.  On land as well as water, wildlife abounded in the Great Lakes region, and Riley investigates the role they play in the regional ecology.  For instance, the now extinct passenger pigeon, traveling in enormous flocks, helped foster a diverse forest of nut- and fruit-bearing trees which provided foods, as did the pigeons, to other animals. The proliferation of animal life in the Great Lakes region prior to European contact also supported a Native American population that was equally diverse in its culture and complex in its use and impact on the land.  My mental picture of the 16th Century landscape is influenced by the history written by those who subsequently occupied it, so I imagined an unbroken forest primeval. Riley more accurately recounts a pre-settlement landscape that was in many places home to large villages, used for mixed agriculture, and actively burned and cleared to support the hunting of wild game.

A Great Lakes region where humans lived in balance with nature changes after 1500 as disease eliminates most (estimates range from 75 to 95 percent) of the native population, the European demand for fur and resources redefines the use of the land, and war and conflicts directs the movements of both native and white populations.  For instance, by the 17th Century, "the expulsion of Native nations from the Ontario peninsula and around Lake Erie, combined with the relative collapse of Iroquoia as well, changed the ecology of the region. A culture of sophisticated, place-based farming and wildlife harvest was finished, as was its stewardship of the broader landscape for humans and wildlife alike."  The landscape re-wilded, and by the 19th Century the Great Lakes region was a dense forest that was unnaturally devoid of human habitation, probably reduced in wild game, and less diverse in its landscape and life.

A Complex Relationship exists between humans and nature, both in Canada and the United States (and everywhere else!). "The Once and Future Great Lakes Country"details the historical and the current, the negative and the beneficial aspects of our dependence and use of nature.  Perhaps the best part of the book is the final chapter "Restoration"which provides perspective and direction to the many efforts to protect and preserve natural areas, revitalize wildlife and fisheries, and establish greenbelts.  While I wished for more detail on the history of the Nature Conservancy in Canada (a separate legal entity from The Nature Conservancy based in the US, the organization for which I volunteer) there are several accounts of its saving important places in Ontario.  Impressively, a totaling of public and private acres protected in the Great Lakes basin on the Canadian side adds up to 12 percent of the land.  As Riley notes, "this tithing for nature reflects a sea change in civil society."

Reading this book made me rethink my conceptions of the natural and human history of the Great Lakes.  And while the accounts of what is now lost sadden me, I am heartened to find historical affirmation for the positive role humans can play in nature. "The lessons of pre-contact stewardship--polyculture, native species, promoting wildlife--are being relearned and retaught."  The ecosystems of the Great Lakes are not just pretty to look at and play in (though they most certainly can be), they are also vital to our sustenance and health, our economic well-being, and our own sense of identity.  We need to restore nature not only to recreate our history, but to protect our future.

You can learn more about the book and order it from the publisher here (also available at Amazon, and some bookstores).
You can learn more about the Nature Conservancy of Canada here
You can learn more about The Nature Conservancy's work in the Great Lakes here

Next week:  an account of a winter visit to a new preserve in Michigan's Upper Peninsula

Saturday, July 13, 2013

The Haunted Forest Preserve

Saving the Great Lakes will require new ways of thinking about, and working on, conservation. We need to think of the largest freshwater ecosystem as whole; we need to overcome geopolitical boundaries; and we need to remember, and apply, the history of the special places we love.  These lessons, and more, were brought home to me by a recent visit to The Nature Conservancy's (TNC) Haunted Forest Preserve.

The South Side of North is where you will find the Garden Peninsula, home to the 574 acre Haunted Forest Preserve.  The Garden Peninsula is on the north shore of Lake Michigan, extending 22 miles from the south side of Michigan's Upper Peninsula.  It matches Wisconsin's Door Peninsula and the two rocky points of land form Green Bay and Big Bay De Noc, which are among the most productive fisheries in the Great Lakes.

Geologically, the 420 million year-old Garden Peninsula is part of the Niagara Escarpment, the hard edge of a tipped bowl underlying the Great Lakes.  The erosion-resistant capstone is dolomitic limestone, also called dolostone, or more popularly, dolomite.  It forms not only Niagara Falls, but also Canada's Bruce Peninsula, the Manitoulin Islands, and Michigan's Drummond Island, home to TNC's Maxton Plains Preserve where a rare biotic community, called an alvar, forms in thin soils above flat limestone pavement. On the Garden Peninsula, the white stone is revealed in high cliffs along the blue water.

The Haunted Forest Preserve gets it name from a larger, mature white cedar forest, inaccessible (fortunately) to loggers over years past and still inaccessible (unfortunately) to most visitors, like me, my wife Anna, and the three college students who were with us on their first trip to the Upper Peninsula.  The 574 acre Preserve consists of several points of land divided by a curving and rocky shoreline, steep cliffs, hardwood forests, and coastal wetlands.  It is the wetlands, and the shallow near-shore areas, that give this place its ecological importance.  This pristine, undisturbed overlap of land and water serves as a rich spawning ground for fish and a valuable habitat for migratory and other birds.  We were stopped several times on our walk by the sight of a pair of bald eagles soaring over the Preserve and neighboring bays.  In all, The Nature Conservancy has protected six miles of Great Lakes coastline on the Garden Peninsula.

The political boundaries of the Great Lakes sometimes get in the way of saving them. Not only does an international border divide four of the five lakes, but eight states exercise different programs and regulations to protect the world's largest freshwater lakes. Fortunately, a number of official bodies coordinate the government efforts, and non-governmental organizations have evolved to look at the Great Lakes from an ecosystem point of view.  The Nature Conservancy's Great Lakes Project takes a whole system perspective and combines the efforts of several state chapters, engages the Governors of the Great Lakes states, and uses science to direct conservation where most needed, regardless of boundaries or bureaucracies.

The Haunted Forest Preserve came to be because people's love for the environment is also not constrained by political boundaries.  The Nature Conservancy used its traditional method of working with landowners and funders, from several states, to acquire land through donation, purchase, and easement protection.  The Preserve lies in Michigan, but it owes its protection to both private and public support from Wisconsin.

Big Bay de Noc, on the western side of the Garden Peninsula, is part of the larger Green Bay ecological region. The natural features have supported a vibrant human economy, from fisheries to logging to agriculture to shipping to tourism.  Unfortunately, overuse has damaged the watershed lands, created some toxic hotspots, and eliminated more than 70 percent of the wetlands in the area.  The Fox River & Green Bay Natural Resource Trustee Council was formed to help restore the ecosystem following some of this despoilment. While most of the attention has been given to the southern, Wisconsin end of Green Bay, The Nature Conservancy recognized that saving the wetlands of the Garden Peninsula, would help the entire Green Bay ecosystem recover from its historical mistreatment.  Thus, funds from Wisconsin came to save part of Michigan; all of it making the Great Lakes healthier.

The limestone in the white cliffs sourced Fayette
Fayette: Learning from History.  While the future of the Great Lakes can be seen on the Garden Peninsula, so too can its history; the lessons from both present and past are valuable.  It surprises many to learn that this quiet, remote part of the Great Lakes was a 19th century center of the iron industry.  Just south of the Haunted Forest Preserve is the former community, now State Historic Park, of Fayette. Natural resources--access to Great Lakes shipping, a great harbor, and proximity to dolomitic limestone and hardwood fuel--led the Jackson Iron Company to build a smelter here in 1867.  Iron ore was shipped here, then refined to pig iron before being sent on to the growing industries of the Midwest.  A booming community took over the shoreline for several decades, and today many of the buildings still exist in a well-preserved and well-presented condition. It is well worth the drive, or the sail, to this historic spot.

note the former stone wall, now overgrown
Walking through the Haunted Forest Preserve we discovered, amidst the tall and strong maple and beech forest, an important lesson from history.  To fuel the smelters of Fayette, the timber was stripped from the entire Garden Peninsula to be fed into charcoal kilns. After the clear-cutting, farmers made a stab at establishing an agricultural economy.  But over time, farming could not use all the available land.  As we explored the Preserve I felt as if we were in Vermont as we came across old stone walls and large piles of the rock pulled out, by hand, from farm fields that have now reverted to mature, second-growth forests.  The end of Fayette as an economic powerhouse came because they ran out of fuel, because they had an unsustainable business model.

Sustainability.  Throughout the Upper Peninsula, one sees frequent reminders of the dangers of building an economy solely on the one-time use of natural resources.  Time and again, unchecked logging, rampant mining, and overfishing have created boom and bust communities that failed to last.  Today, you come across massive white pine stumps, rusting mining equipment, slag piles, empty ports, and even whole abandoned towns that remind us of the dangers of over-exploiting our natural resource.  Fortunately, the times are changing in the Upper Peninsula.  The Nature Conservancy is creating a sustainable logging model (see video) and is working with private timber companies to forever protect forest lands both for economic and environmental benefits (read more).  Mining continues as part of the Michigan economy, but the economy has diversified and better policies and practices minimize damage.

On the Garden Peninsula, farming continues as part of the regional economy.  The natural beauty of the area and the historic resource of Fayette now supports a tourism economy, and the healthy waters and wetlands of the Green Bay-Big Bay de Noc aquatic ecosystem encourages both recreational and commercial fishing.  One other sign of a sustainable future is seen in the presence of windmills generating electricity from the non-polluting wind blowing across the Garden Peninsula.  Of course, none of this happens without attention to the impacts of human activity and a commitment to managing both the ecosystem and the economy.  Science-based policies are necessary to ensure that windmills are sited and operated to minimize impacts on birds and bats, logging and mining needs to be sensibly regulated, and the best and important lands and water of the area need to be preserved.  The future, cognizant of the past, shows much promise.

Click here to learn more about the Haunted Forest Preserve
Click here for more on Fayette and visiting the Garden Peninsula
Click here for information on Fayette Historic State Park



This trip could not have been possible without Danielle Miller's guidance and local knowledge, the hospitality and commitment of the Thomas and the Wilson families, the photography of Anna Owens, and the company of Beata, Katrina, and Jenny.  Thank you all.


Sunday, May 5, 2013

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)                                             

Monday, March 18, 2013

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 Explorerthat 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. 

















Thursday, February 14, 2013

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

Monday, October 15, 2012

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.