Showing posts with label Wisconsin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wisconsin. Show all posts

Sunday, July 12, 2026

My Pilgrimage To The Shack

 "The Shack was everything and it was nothing." Nina Leopold Bradley (Aldo Leopold’s daughter)

I’m sitting here observing, listening, soaking in stories from the land, from The Shack, from the family, from Aldo.  Whether learning from those aspects or learning of those aspects—perhaps for the first time; it’s simply a matter of prepositional schematics.  The stories permeate my soul—like the sweet breezes keeping most of the heat and bugs at bay and the serenading discussions of the yellow throat, towhee, pewee, and wren amongst the lofty branches of white pine, walnut, sugar maple, and red oak.  The stories trickle down from what I’ve read, what I’ve seen, what I’ve lived, and what I’ve listened to over the years.

I’ve wanted to make this pilgrimage, this sacred journey to the Leopold Shack for quite some time.  I first read Aldo Leopold’s Sand County Almanac book back in 2009.  I taught his principles to my 5th grade science students for many years.  For decades his words were inscribed upon a spirit stick hanging in my classroom that stated, “Only the mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the howl of a wolf.”  A toy Beanie Baby wolf sat upon the top of that stick as if to bring life to those very words.  How entertaining it was when students made the connection between the man they were learning about and the words they saw each school day.  How strange and yet thrilling it is to be sitting here now upon this land that I had learned so much about while teaching others his principles and beliefs.  It is a holy of holies.  It is a riverside sanctuary.

It was in 1935, when the 5 Leopold children were between the ages of 8 and 22 years old, that Aldo purchased this old 80 acre Dust Bowl farmstead; sandwiched between Baraboo and Portage, Wisconsin within the bottomlands along the Wisconsin River.  The property was purchased by paying the back taxes—at a time that was smack dab in the middle of the Great Depression—after being abused and abandoned by a previous owner who had literally run the land into the ground; depleted of nutrients and richness.  Barren.  The only building was the ramshackle chicken coop—filled with frozen decomposing manure.  After the blessing of Aldo’s wife Estella who thought the whole place was wonderful, and who helped to begin cleaning it out, the building was soon refurbished as a refuge from the elements and a place to overnight; for the family otherwise spent most of their time outdoors.  With supplies picked up at local dumps and junkyards, they added windows and eventually what is now referred to as the West Wing—the side lean-to where they built several bunk beds.  There was no electricity, no plumbing; just an outhouse they called the Parthenon.  It was a perfect getaway for the family!

Aldo Framing In The New Window.
Son Starker Leopold Building The Outhouse.
The Parthenon.

I love it here on the land surrounding The Shack.  I also love what Aldo Leopold stood for as a pioneer for environmental conservation.  It’s not his end product that’s so alluring, so much as it is his process.  His was a process of learning and gaining knowledge; connecting.  Yes, he connected himself to data and recorded observations—linking and placing the puzzle pieces where they fit—to make sense out of a time and era when the preservation and the protection of land and water were unheard of across our country.  Certainly areas were starting to be set aside to be enjoyed and safe guarded, but the healing and restoration of what had already been destroyed by ill conceived practices was foreign prior to Aldo.  This was a new concept for an old problem.  It was exciting!  Or at least it is now; now that we know that the practices he first developed, put into fruition, and then documented, worked in the past, are working now, and will continue to work in the future.

But Aldo also connected with the land and water itself.  He connected to it through his life’s work.  He connected to it through the time spent with his family.  His view on the natural world and his land ethic were intertwined with how he lived his life.  What we know about his external life is a display of what he thought about internally.  I find a deep pull to someone that gives us a glimpse into their world; a world born of renewal, insight, discovery, and second chances.  Hope for our environment!

Aldo’s ideas, now known as his Land Ethic are so practical; conceived and crafted through scientific research, trial and error, and work as play.

As for scientific research, when you see black and white pictures of Aldo he’s wearing a button down shirt with pockets; pockets that typically held a small memo notebook.  It was commonplace for men from that time period.  Such a notebook was an avenue for notation and the linking of recorded facts and figures that needed to be jotted down on the thin blue lines.  For Aldo that meant information found in the classroom as well as out in the fields and woods or out on mountains and waters.  While on assignment—for work and pleasure—the environment provided the education.

Aldo Building Up Another Layer
Of Bricks On The Chimney.
Aldo & Estella Planting Pines.

It reminds me of my Granddad Fagerlund; himself an electrical engineer—as well as my Great Grandpa Bender on the other side of my family tree; a tool and die machinist by trade.  Both wore shirts with pockets that held notebooks full of lists, sketches, and calculations.  I like to imagine that Aldo’s pocketbook held pertinent environmental information.   Aldo and my two grandpas would have enjoyed each other’s company.  What a wonderful opportunity and experience it would have been to simply sit off to the side and listen to them talk.  I did such things as a boy—listening to stories from days gone past.  Learning about how one of them dipped their personally purchased metal tools of the trade in a liquid plastic to keep from being shocked while working electrical towers built throughout the rocky hills of West Virginia, or how the other worked as a small lad in barn stables that housed huge draft horses; trying to harness them for the day’s plowing without being pinned against the side of the stall.  Each was born of an era; Granddad, Great Grandpa, Aldo.  Peering into the notebook journals of those three men would have been like waking up Christmas morning—excitement at the prospect and world of what they knew and what they were learning.

As for trial and error, when working for the U.S. Forest Service in New Mexico, Aldo and fellow rangers shot into a pack of wolves; killing a female and wounding a pup.  While attempting to help area ranchers protect herds and flocks, he also held the belief that fewer wolves meant more deer—and that no wolves would be a “hunter’s paradise.”  From that pivotal moment, and with the country’s gradual attempt to eradicate all apex predators, Aldo’s thinking began to change.  In time he witnessed the overbrowsing of mountain hillsides, wood plots, and remnant prairies; various species of deer eating vegetative foliage to their starvation and demise.  Like sticking fingers in a fire, Aldo learned firsthand from mistakes.  I appreciate and respect a person that can change direction—seemingly midstream—when they suddenly see things differently and in a new light.

As for making work as play, when Aldo & Estella’s children would come to The Shack during school’s spring break, they helped plant tens of thousands of pines along the Wisconsin River.  They also took breaks to play in the water, sing while strumming a guitar, and relax in the good nature of the outdoors.  Together with family, and at times with friends or graduate students, weekend retreats were often spent working, but it was also a time of connection to hunt, fish, identify birds, nap, and shoot archery.  Estella was a 5 time Wisconsin state champion with her bow!  While working in Madison for the University of Wisconsin as a research director, Aldo pioneered the very first prairie restoration; ironically just a hop, skip, and a jump north of where John Deere invented the steel plow in Grand Detour, Illinois.  It was an instrument better suited than the plow made of iron to cut through and turn over the deep rooted plants of the fertile prairies and plains.  Since many of the plants from the prairies had vanished, Aldo searched and found native plants and their seeds still growing in out of the way locations along railroad tracks, original roadways, and within the confines of old gravesites and cemeteries.  The seeds were collected and sewn in specific locations—including around The Shack—and instituted some of the oldest restored prairies found anywhere throughout the world.  What fun it must have been for the family to throw seeds and caution to the wind and upon barren sand, only to witness the gradual germination and growth of a prairie reborn.

Estella With A Cross Cut Saw
Used To Buck Firewood.

Daughter Nina Walking To The Shack With A
Guitar, Shotgun, School Books, And Picnic Basket.
As The Story Goes, The School Books Were
Never Opened While Visiting The Shack!

Aldo Taking A Nap At The Shack.

Today I could have sat upon one of the benches outside of The Shack to write this entry.  It would have made sense and would have tied things together in a nice tight little bow.  It’s a bench designed by Aldo himself; common now in many nature preserves.  It’s comfortable to lean back upon in the forward position and perfect for bird watching with one’s elbows propped upon the back brace if sat upon in reverse; an easy way to stabilize one’s binoculars while looking afar.  I smile at the engineering, simplicity, and practicality of such a bench.  I could have sat upon it, but I didn’t.  Instead I brought my own chair and after looking around inside The Shack, taking a few pictures, and listening to familiar stories told by the curator, I sat back in the shade of the trees and on the edge of what was once the Leopold garden and orchard; taking it all in as I put my own pieces of the puzzle together; making sense of it all.  While sitting, I ate my lunch, sketched out The Shack, and wrote this entry.

This was a pilgrimage for me today; to a place that some have described as the Walden Pond of the Midwest.  I understand that; something meaningful being compared to something else that’s meaningful.  It makes sense; The Shack, the surrounding land, the stories.  Thank you Aldo, and Estella, and all of the children—all of whom have now passed.  Your stories of The Shack and what you learned and accomplished through science, trial and error, and play have left a legacy of hope; hope through restoration.  I love that.

See you along The Way…

The Memorial Marking The Location Where
Aldo Died Of A Heart Attack Helping To Fight
A Neighbor's Grass Fire That Had Spred
On The Hills Overlooking The Shack.
The Leopold Children
At The Shack In Later Years.
Each Of Them Became Environmental
Conservationists In Their Own Right.
They Are A Part Of The Legacy!
Estella And Her 5 Children
(Starker, Luna, Nina, Carl, & Estella)

Monday, January 16, 2023

Generating A Generational Gathering

 

Sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s, and on the backside of a small town in southern Wisconsin, I gathered two other kindred generations and headed out.  First we crossed a frozen lake, and then we climbed the far bank, before making our way up into the woods.

I’ve been there before, but this was my first venture into that locale with my Dad and son Todd.  Although I’ve taken each of them out individually to the woods, and on multiple occasions, it was our first outing all together.  For that reason they each knew the routine, quickly began packing down the snow, and set about collecting and cutting up some firewood.

Our Three Walking Sticks
All Carved By Dad

With the snapping sounds of the crackling flames, and the tantalizing smells of the sizzling food cooking in the skillet, we settled into the rhythm of a day camp in the woods.  We wouldn’t be there long, but we would be there long enough; long enough to generate meaningful conversations between father and son, and grandpa and grandson.  While my dog Kora settled in on her blanket, we sat and talked as I added various ingredients.  The food was typical, meaning that it was what I always cooked.  It’s become what’s expected.  I can appreciate that, even as the one who cuts and prepares it all beforehand.  When you’ve eaten several helpings of it outdoors, and in cold temperatures, you’ll know what I mean.

After indulging in the breakfast, and rinsing it down with some hot cocoa, we cleaned up, packed our gear, and erased any evidence of being there.  Being stealthy is important to keep such places sacred.  It’s why I’m always mixing it up as to where I go.  I suppose it’s like having a random generator that allows me to arbitrarily choose from any one of my special get away places.  In such circumstances I liken my decision making to being, “Crazy like a fox,” but I suppose it’s better described as, “Sly like a fox.”  Either way I’ll lose you if you try to follow me, and still manage to enjoy a great day in the woods.  And should you be so lucky as to be invited to join me, I’ll welcome you into the secret location with open arms; although on more than one occasion I have been known to wander in circles first to confuse people with directions or have them turn off the location on their phones.  As I said, it keeps places special.

For that reason, I’ll always hold that morning special.  Such an outing, in a sacred place, doesn’t happen often; and when it does you mark it.  Generating a time when you can gather generations of your family together for an outdoor experience can be memorable, especially when you each share the same spirit of adventure.  Perhaps that’s why I smiled to myself as I walked with my dad and son back across the lake, watching our shadows in the snow covered ice under the glare of the rising sun.

See you along The Way…

Sunday, August 28, 2022

A Lake That Gave Up Her Secrets

 
It was the third year in a row that my wife Cindy, daughter Jodi, and I had spent at Jung’s Birch Lake “Tranquility Cottage”.  Born of necessity to get-a-way in the middle of the pandemic of 2020, we now use the week to reconnect.  Because Jodi’s been going to grad school in Texas this last year, she came back to join us Up North where we could spend time making some memories together.

The days quickly fell into a rhythm.  Being familiar now with the lake and surrounding area, I typically headed out to fish in the morning and spent time at the cabin with the ladies in the afternoon.  During that time we’d read, journal, take walks, fix and eat dinner, go for a drive, or go get ice cream.  The weather was pleasant during the day (70° ’s) and cold at night (50° ’s); a refreshing change of pace from what Cindy and I had been experiencing back home and from the triple digits of central Texas for Jodi!

I’d caught some fish in this lake each of the last two years; not a lot of fish, but some big fish.  So each cast this year was made with hopeful expectations.  Gordon Lightfoot sang in his song of Lake Superior and the Edmund Fitzgerald, “she never gives up her dead.”  Likewise, Birch Lake doesn’t always like to give up her fish, unless the fisherman has a lot of patience, some ideas of where to start, and a little knowhow on the lures of choice.  Any knowledge that I’ve gained has primarily come through intuition, mistakes, and sometimes just plain, dumb luck.  When she does give up her fish, they are downright memorable!
The first full day of the week (Sunday) was my 56th birthday.  I fished for several hours that morning with absolutely no action; until there was.  While retrieving a deep diving lure, a fish hit just below the aluminum boat.  I saw the flash, and instantly felt the pull.  What I eventually reeled in was a 23” walleye.  Although I’ve fished a lot throughout my life, for some reason this was my first walleye; and probably one of the last of the main freshwater game fish I had yet to catch.  We postponed my birthday dinner of tacos and had walleye, dipped in Shore Lunch, and fried in butter.  It was a memorable happy birthday indeed!

I Used My Grand-Dad Fagerlund's Old
Fillet Knife To Clean The Walleye.

On Monday morning the air was cool, and with hardly any breeze, the lake was like glass.  I tried several different spots around our end of the lake, but didn’t catch anything until the sun began to heat things up.  Using my Whopper Plopper lure, I caught a nice 18” smallmouth bass that exploded on it and jumped multiple times; all within sight of our cabin and dock.  I released it and watched it swim quickly back under some nearby lily pads.  It’s fun to catch a fish on that surface lure as I feel like Matt Nelson, the YouTube fisherman under the tagname of, “ndyakangler.”  That evening Jodi and I fished together in a back bay for a while.  I managed to catch a 20” pike; releasing it after a quick picture into the water from which it came.

Tuesday morning was slow going.  I caught and released one small pike, but otherwise it was simply time in a boat; which was still worth every minute.  Before heading in, I shared the last hour or so with a doe and her two fawns as they made their way along the shoreline.
On Wednesday morning I started the day by running the hills around the lake, jumping off the dock to rinse off, and eating breakfast.  By that time I had formulated a bit of an adventure in my mind, so with the kayak that comes with our cabin, I set off with some of my fishing gear for a neighboring lake.  It was like being the main character of an epic tale about a guy who trudges through Hell to get to a Heavenly secret lake.  Indeed, it required a lot of grunt work, mud, slogging up and over beaver dams, and wallowing through a swamp, but it was well worth the struggle.  Halfway to my destination I took a break to catch my breath, rest, and was actually able to get a connection so I could talk to my Dad on the phone.  I told him he wouldn’t believe where I was (actually he could picture such a place because he knows me, has done that type of thing himself, and even looked up my location on a satellite image).  The ensuing lake was choked with weeds, but I fished some of the sporadic open sections with a #5 silver Mepps.  After an initial small pike, I managed to catch and wrestle in two twin northerns at a smidge over 25 inches.  I elected to keep them as I truly do love the taste of pan fried pike.  Before I headed back, I caught and released a couple of largemouth bass that were hanging out next to a beaver lodge.  The final paddle across Birch Lake was against the wind, which of course had whipped up some small, rolling whitecaps by that time.  I thought my arms were going to rip out of their sockets before I reached our cottage, but regardless, it was a classic way to end the day’s tale!

Thursday morning’s fishing expedition lasted no more than an hour.  While fishing a small bay, a giant fish went airborne after hitting my Mepps. Spinner.  It was hard to tell what it was exactly.  All I really saw was a large body and a lot of water being thrashed about.  It dove deep, but as I brought it close to the boat, after it had taken multiple runs, I could see that it was a muskie.  I felt fortunate that I had my large, rubberized net.  It’s safe for the fish, and a bit easier to handle them when they are in it.  Make no mistake that with the combination of power, hook barbs, and fish teeth, it’s not what I would label as an easy task.  It is, however, more manageable of a venture as it allows you to keep a fish in the water while using your multi-tool pliers to get the hook out.  Actually, for this fish, which measured at 33 inches, I had to grab it under its jaw and lift it from the net.  I find that it immobilizes them more than a gripper.  This also allowed me to reach down into the muskie’s mouth to extract the treble hook while still holding it.  I lifted it for a quick photograph and then eased it back into the lake, where with a flick of its tail, it disappeared.  At that point, and after a fish like that, I quit for the morning.  That fish was my fourth muskie in three summers, my second of the year, and although the smallest of all of them, I was more than satisfied with the experience!

My Plug Of Cedar
With A Prayer Of Thankfulness
For The Opportunity
Before Each Fishing Adventure.

That afternoon I took the girls to a nearby bay where they caught panfish and perch.  They had fun, laughed, and enjoyed being out on the lake.  We kept 6 of them that we ate that evening along with one of the pike from the day before.
I closed out the week with a 25 ½ inch pike on a cold and early Friday morning.  I took a selfie with the fish and then released it as I didn’t feel as though I needed to keep it (we were already bringing home one of the two pike that I had caught on Wednesday for a meal later this fall).  The interesting story of that last fish was that I was able to see the wake it made as it charged out from some lily pads before it actually hit my spinner.  Talk about short lived anticipation!  Knowing that something was about to happen, I waited only a fraction of a second for the actual strike.
All in all our week together was fun, relaxing, and just what any doctor with half a mind would have ordered.  Fishing was just a portion of what we did that week, but to that end, it was an important facet of the overall experience.  Thankfully, Birch Lake, in its tranquility and serenity, shared some of its secrets and gave up her fish.  Interestingly enough, the brochure for Jung’s Birch Lake Cottages states, “The natural beauty of this 180 acre lake offers you great fishing for Musky, Northern, Bass, Walleye, and Panfish…”  Indeed it does, and indeed it did - on all accounts, with fish that were truly memorable!
See you along The Way…
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