This is a blog entry
that will be pretty self explanatory.
Pictures and captions will tell the story beyond what I write. The prairie on the hill was reestablished in
the summer of 2009. It’s a prairie next
to (and a part of) Willowbrook Middle School, which is one of two schools in
the Prairie Hill School District - and just off of Prairie Hill Road. That part makes sense. Of course there is a story behind a few of those names, as there are to most names, that might not seem to make sense; but I’ll refrain from going into detail on all of that just now to protect the (semi) innocent. Let's just say that Prairie Hill School is on Willowbrook Road and Willowbrook Middle School is on Prairie Hill Road. The prairie on the hill, however, is legitimate, noteworthy, and
fitting. Two hundred years ago this
seven acre, tall grass prairie was the norm of the Midwest and Central Plains, before
it was plowed under for agricultural use.
In the fall of 2011 my
teaching colleague, Cindy Froman, and I started Willowbrook Middle School’s environmental
club. The name of the club became Servo Terra (Protect the Earth). One of the first endeavors for Cindy and I
was to have the fledgling club name a few of the surrounding areas. The prairie was put to a vote and named “Bird’s
Grove Prairie.” “Bird’s Grove” came from
the name of a trading post built by Stephen Mack. He was one of our area's first pioneers. In the early 1830’s his original trading post
was located at the mouth of Dry Run Creek as it entered the Rock River. Dry Run Creek winds through our very own
school district, albeit several miles upstream from the mouth. Later, Stephen Mack would have to move to what would become Pecatonic/Macktown (across from present day
Rockton), due to an attack that burned down his trading post at Bird’s Grove. That attack, which was at the beginning of the Black Hawk War, nearly cost him his
life. For those who live in Northern
Winnebago County, you know that Stephen Mack’s wife was Hononegah; a
Winnebago/Ho-Chunk Native American whose name became that of our local high
school.
The second area that our club
named was the seasonal pond that lies up on the top of Bird’s Grove Prairie
next to our school. It was voted on to
be named “Odonata Pond.” Odonata is a
taxonomy grouping for insects that are carnivorous, such as the dragonfly. Several species of dragonflies are a common
site throughout the warmer months, as they zip over the grasses catching and
eating various flies and mosquitoes.
An 1827 Oil Painting by American Artist Alvin Fisher Entitled "The Prairie On Fire" Picture taken at the Chicago Art Institute Dec 2016
Our prairie was mowed for the first couple of years as
the plants threw down their long roots.
Native plants grow down into the soil 15 feet or more. It’s no wonder that we have erosion problems
in our present day and age when you compare this to our blue grass lawns that
only grow roots about 4 inches in depth.
Once the native plants began taking hold, we planned our first fire burn during
the spring of 2014. The South Beloit
Fire Department rose to the occasion, using the controlled burn for a training
exercise. As Mrs. Froman and I watched
that first year, one local neighbor and one school family joined us. Two years later in 2016 we burned again, and
a few more from the community came to watch.
This year, 2017, saw families with children of all ages attend the
prairie burn (some kids complete in their firemen costumes). Many people even brought their chairs and blankets
to watch the burn while eating their dinner picnic style.
Bird’s Grove Prairie is still in its infancy, but
compared to the prairies that once covered our region, its history goes back to
a time that is now only a whisper. That
whisper, barely audible, is carried on the winds that sway the grasses of
the prairie; those same grasses that once supported the vast herds of bison that called this area home long before us.
It’s a history that now can be set to pictures and videos.
See you along The Way…
2014
Cindy Froman and I after the First Burn
2016
Window Reflection
Panorama
Odonata Pond
After the Burn
A Video of the 2016 Burn
The sunset on the prairie during a Servo Terra cookout
My best “April Fools’
Day Joke” of all time came at my Mom’s expense.
God bless her. We had a
Dishmaster faucet on our kitchen sink.
It was one of those brands that had a scrub brush wand attached to a
hose that you could activate by pulling up on a little knob. When it was not in use, the wand laid
across the top of the faucet.
I was
around 14 or 15 years old when I had the great idea to prop up the knob with a
toothpick broken off at just the right height.
I almost didn’t live a day longer when that afternoon of April 1st
my Mom came into the kitchen and turned on the water. Instead of water coming out of the spigot, it
sprayed her directly from the carefully positioned end of the scrub brush. I of course had been waiting and could hardly
contain myself. I laughed so hard I gave
away my innocence. She caught me halfway
up the stairs and beat me with a dish towel.
We both were laughing by then. My
Mom was a good sport; and pretty darn quick too!
That’s not where the story ends
though. Fast forward 33 years into the
future. I told the story of fooling my
Mom to my kids, as we were gathered around the dinner table. Soon after, my son Todd snuck in and set up
the sprayer that we have on our sink. We
should have known. Actually we did. Actually it didn’t matter, because Todd
forgot about it; rookie mistake. He came
waltzing into the kitchen that evening and turned on the water and immediately
got doused. It was hilarious. He couldn’t believe he had gotten fooled by
his own joke. In fact, in his sheepish
frustration he jumped up and down; not a good idea on a wet tile floor. He slipped and went down like a sack of wet
potatoes. We all laughed so hard we had
tears running down our faces. Somewhere we have a picture of Todd laying there soaked through and through,
gasping for breath, and laughing. You
reap what you sow I guess; funny, real funny!
Today (4-1-17) my friend Justin and I had planned a cross country excursion that involved
hiking through backwater swamps from a point A to a point B. It was going to be tough even on a good day
due to multiple creek and river crossings. In addition, we had to skirt a few sections of
private property where we had been warned that they shoot first and ask
questions later. That is perhaps a bit
extreme, but it makes for a good story, and the idea of trying to outrun
buckshot would definitely be adventurous.
So, we needed to stay clear of that land obviously. Unfortunately Mother Nature had different
ideas this Spring Break. It rained a
lot, and other than one afternoon, the sun never showed its face; funny Mother
Nature, real funny. The idea of swollen
waterways and low lands under water literally put a damper on what we wanted to
do. We decided to use our God given
brain and revamped our plan so we didn’t risk jeopardizing ourselves for future
outings. Crossing moving or stagnant
water was still inevitable, but we opted for a simpler hike in and cook out. Mother Nature had a few jokes still up her
sleeve, because today was absolutely
beautiful. When we first started, some
of the puddles had a thin layer of ice on them.
The skies, however, were baby blue which allowed the round spherical
thing in the sky to warm the Earth and our souls. The high temperature by our adventure’s end
was 65 degrees. Apparently the Midwest was
not to be outdone on this day! Spring
Break indeed; take that all of you coming back from some southern beach far,
far way.
Justin
and I trudged fields and muck and made it down to the main river. When we tried to hike along its bank though,
we were stopped and turned away time and time again due to oxbows, drainage
ditches, creeks, and marshes coming off the main river. Identifying the main river was difficult
because the currents that were coming off from it, and into the woods, was
almost as strong. We rerouted ourselves
so many times; continually backtracking around fingers of water that extended
off into the woods, that it was downright confusing. We had to laugh aloud at our seemingly aimless
wandering; funny, real funny.
By
late midmorning we realized we were not going to see the main river again. We had been cut off. We made several log bridges, but even those
wouldn’t have worked for some of the areas that technically would have required
a Huck-Finn raft or flat out swimming.
We decided to find an area void of poison ivy suckers that were sticking
up all around us and make our fire. We were
getting hungry. While working with a bundle
of tinder, and the spark off the steel, ignition happened so fast I singed my
eye lashes a bit; funny, real funny.
Around
the fire we talked and cooked our meal.
Our day camp was water-side on what amounted to a large pond, fed from
the series of canals and channels we had spent several hours walking
around. Our conversation was different
today, but good. It was personal, but
helpful. It allowed us to gain a
perspective on each other’s thoughts and views of life. It was nonthreatening and gave each of us the
opportunity to understand where the other was coming from. Life can be funny, but it can be tough,
unfair, and confusing too. Good conversation can help iron life out and make sense of it.
By
the end I think I was probably jabbering.
I was getting tired. After being
dropped off by Justin, I fell asleep for about 45 minutes. Fortunately that took the edge off. I wanted to make use of the weather. Driving over to school with my dogs, I
quickly varnished a project I’ve been working on. Once back, I went to work on a small garden
area of gooseberry bushes that I have in our backyard. The dry ground gave me the chance to get out
and use some of the rocks that I’ve collected.
I built a small retaining wall using chunks of limestone to hold back
the sod and soil. It felt good to get my
hands into the earth and feel the warmth in the air.
Before
After
It
was a good Saturday today; a good April Fools’ Day as days go. Rain is again in the forecast throughout this
next week. But for today, this one day,
Mother Nature was nobody’s fool and instead gave us a sneak peak at what it can
once again feel like to have the sun on our face.
Not
everything in life is glamorous, glitzy, or adventurous. Much of life is mundane. You still rock it out. You still put one foot in front of the other,
and do your best. I say this in case you
regularly read the blog entries that I post.
I’m not here to rain on your parade; I just don’t want you to think
every outing goes according to plan, or that the little things I do are always
exciting. Sometimes life is just
life. A majority of life consists of the
things that happen between the sunrise and sunset; the things that need to be done,
should be done, or that we want done. Outside
of the immediate family, or myself personally, most of what is done really has
no relevancy. Like the things that have
happened this last week.
It
was the finish line for the third quarter at school, and report cards were
coming out at the end of the week. I
spent quite a few days and nights in a row playing catch up on correcting
papers, homework, and tests. While at
school, I had the students designing and making their “Paddle to the Sea” boats
that we release on the moving waters at the environmental learning center we
will be attending in a another week or so.
Through the contact information that we attach to the boats, people let
us know when and where they find them along their river journey down to the
Gulf of Mexico.
This
week now, our spring break has been a catch-up week. Health wise, I find myself fighting off a
pesky cold that has tried to get the best of me. So far I’ve been able to hold it at bay, and
seem to be gaining on it as the only time it really bothers me much is when I’ve
gone to bed. Because of the extra energy
needed to regain my strength, I’ve taken several naps. I feel like it’s time well spent to not only
get the upper hand, but energy I can then bank to make the final push once this
break is complete and the sprint is made towards the end of the school
year. In addition, I’ve been reading
like crazy. For hours at a time in fact,
I spent the weekend reading a Charles Martin book entitled Chasing Fireflies. I like this author and his style of writing,
as he reveals the storyline around well developed characters. That particular story was a good example of
why quality father figures, a family structure, and supportive relationships
are so important.
Rain picture courtesy of Jodi Rhines
On
Sunday morning I ran a little over seven miles.
It was drizzly, and otherwise nasty.
It has been since our spring break began. So, I decided to make the most of it. It was enjoyable running the trail. Afterwards, Cindy, Jodi, and I attended a
church to hear Michael Chitwood speak.
He is the director for “Team World Vision” that I’ve run a couple of
marathons for. We enjoyed hearing his
story and sensing his passion. We bought
his book, The Ability to Endure, and now I’m almost finished with that
as well. I’ve already gleaned a lot of
information from his perspective and experiences. I found that I relate to it in my own way, and
I am looking forward to sharing it with others.
The
list of mundane “life stuff” marches on.
I’ve communicated with my son Todd, who has really taken some big
strides as a young man. I’m proud of him
and what he is doing.
I’ve been varnishing
our Paddle to the Sea boats at school each day.
It provides me with an excuse to get the dogs out, and feed my classroom
pets at the same time. I’ve painted some
cabinets in my garage, and we took our Jeeps into have them worked on as it’s
been a while since they were greased, oiled, and had their filters
changed. As a side bar, we went to
Nicholas Conservatory in Rockford. It
was a chance to do something sort of exciting while we were waiting for the
vehicles to be worked on. We took some
pictures of the exotic plants and flowers, and walked through the butterfly
garden. This was the first time I’ve
visited this Rockford landmark since it was remodeled.
A Zebra Longwing
Heliconia Lobster Claw
A Common Buckeye
Cindy and I
I also sat in the East Branch of the Rockford
Public Library, reading and writing, while Cindy and Jodi shopped for a prom
dress. During the afternoon, when the
sun finally showed itself, I collected rocks from my friend’s field to use for
landscaping.
Those
are the highlights, if indeed they can be thought of as highlights. They are the little things our family or I
have done. They are the things of note
in between relaxing and watching reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show” or “M*A*S*H”
this last week or so. They are what
happens between the sunrise and sunset of any given day or week; the days and
weeks between the next adventure.
It
reminds me of my first and last day trout fishing on one of my favorite creeks
last year. It was on moving liquid that
I refer to as my “Home Waters.” You may
remember that I’ve written about its waters before (See blog: "Home" Waters). I don’t go there often these days, but it’s
where I honed my skills at trout fishing, and so I like to keep track of what’s
going on there a few times out of the year anyway. It’s the kind of place I hold dear to my heart;
where I hate seeing the footprints of others, and where I’ve kept and released
a host of trout. I probably kept more in
the early days because I was so excited to catch them, and I release more now because
I’m so excited to know they are still there and thriving.
The
first time I went to my creek last year it was shortly after sunrise and
downright cold. Snow was on the ground,
and occasionally in the air. For some
reason I decided to wear my hip boots instead of my waders. It seemed like a good idea at the time. All told I caught 6-7 brown trout and released
them all. Most were around 11 to 12
inches. I did catch one beautifully
thick 17 ½ inch brown that I took a picture of, and then a video, as I slipped
it back into the water. Toward the end I
did get snagged, and in trying to free my spinner, I took in water. I ended up losing the lure and had to pour
the river from my boots after wringing it out of my socks. I fished for a while longer but ended up
having to walk out with what felt like club feet because I couldn’t feel
anything. Everything below my ankles had
turned white as well as a couple of my fingers.
Darn frostbite. It was well worth
the trip, but it was painful at the end.
I went home and took a warm shower, ate lunch, and then napped to
recover adequately.
The
last time I went to my creek in 2016, it was shortly before sunset and
downright miserable on that late fall day. After school I
finished some work, gathered my gear, and headed out. After hiking in through a driving rain and a
cold breeze, I entered the water. It was
not great fishing, and plus, I didn’t have a lot of time. I was limited by time because it would soon
be getting dark, and the light I had was sketchy at best through the thick gray
cloud cover. In addition, I still had to
get my son Todd from college that evening.
I was bringing him home for his fall break. I did manage to catch a few fish, the biggest
being a 13 inch brown. Although I never
took on water, as I wore waders that time, I was soaked and chilled by the time
I hiked out under a fading sunset. I got
home not a moment too soon, so I could change, grab a sandwich, and then drive
the 76 miles to go get Todd. We enjoyed
catching up and talking on the return trip home, making it back in time for me
to get into bed around 11:00. I still
had school the next morning and was beat after all of the day’s activities.
Life
can be mundane, and yet interesting in its own rite. Those daily occurrences that seem so simple
and menial to some, because it’s a daily routine between the sunrise and sunset
of any given time period, are what make us unique and different when looked at
through the eyes of anyone else.
Seven months ago I drove to west central Wisconsin to go trout fishing. It was Saturday the 13th to be
exact, and school was about to begin in two days. I wanted to squeeze in one more outing. I probably had convinced myself that I needed
one more outing. They say you learned everything
you need to know for life while attending kindergarten, but I beg to
differ. I’m not knocking kindergarten;
like any good pyramid, you need a strong base or else everything’s going to
crumble. Plus, I know some kindergarten
teachers, and they sell out to do what they need to do, to provide these little
ones everything they need to know at age 5 or 6. Thinking back to that trip, however, I realize that fishing is what taught me everything I needed to know. Granted, I’m a bit older now, and rather
removed from my elementary school days, but think of the wisdom, background
experience, and prior knowledge I could apply to any given situation as a result of what I learned. You don’t have that applicable knowledge when
you’re only half a decade old. And so I
left early in the morning, and drove North with a revision from
Robert Fulghun’s poem in my mind. (See the
link for the original poem at: Kindergarten Poem)
-----
Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and
how to be, I learned while trout fishing.
Wisdom was not found within formal schooling, but while standing in cold,
clear water. These are the things I
learned:
“Share everything.” This includes the stream - even when you’ve
driven for three hours to have it all to yourself but something goes awry.
Apparently even when two middle aged guys hop out of a truck and are
already getting their gear together when you drive up to the gravel pullover at
daybreak.
“Play fair, and don’t hit people.” Even when you’ve come to this creek numerous
times and nobody has ever been there before, and you’re slightly ticked
off. Talk about the creek with the
fellow fishermen and ask where they’re planning to start; all while trying to
hover under your open back hatch to avoid a driving rain. What other knuckleheads would dare to venture
here under such conditions? Didn’t they know I had been planning on
fishing that morning? I was disappointed
to see another living soul at that point.
“Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.” The two men didn’t know what I was thinking or
plotting in my mind, so I apologized to the Man upstairs. I asked for forgiveness. God
must have had a reason I suppose. I
thought about this as I hiked in the rain down into the valley veiled in mist, but honestly couldn't come up with what that reason would be at that point.
“Live a balanced life.” I began far down river and fished up. The other two guys were halfway between me and
the bridge we would get out at. It was
as balanced as I could think of getting.
I couldn’t believe it, however, after fishing for a spell - when I
managed to catch up with them. I
hunkered down to remain undetected. The
rain had quit, and although overcast, it was perfect for fishing. No wonder I wasn’t catching anything when I
was trailing behind what they had already caught or spooked. Without the two men seeing me, I hiked all of
the way back past where I had originally started. I decided that I would fish this section
again, after eating something and regaining my wits. I sat and ate lunch on a high bluff, covered
in hemlocks, and overlooking the moving water below. I took a deep breath. I took several deep breaths. School was starting in two days. People were in the creek. I wanted to fish in peace. I wasn’t catching anything. I tried to convince myself it was going to be
okay.
“Take a nap every afternoon.” I wasn’t going to take a nap that afternoon,
as everything was still damp. But I’m
not opposed to it when I’ve had the chance to fish - and fish well - while tiring
myself out. I, however, was not tired as
much as tettering on the edge of being vengeful.
“Be aware of wonder.” I marveled at the bluffs, long worn by moving
waters, and the lushness of the leaves and pine boughs. It was beautiful. I spent time wondering how I could be making
such excellent casts with no payoff. I
wondered as the clouds cleared and the sun came out why two different guys, young
guys in their 20’s, would be kayaking through my little trout creek. The paddlers were splashing, and clunking,
and scaring away the fish. They were
scaring those same fish that weren’t biting.
It was ironic I suppose. The guys
said, “Hi” as they zipped on by; obviously enjoying themselves with cameras
mounted on top of their helmets. I’ve
found their video on the web. The
section where they passed the disgruntled fisherman smiling through gritted
teeth had been edited out. I laughed
slightly after they had disappeared downstream.
I think that was okay, in lieu of the fact that with all of these issues,
I still hadn’t “lost it”…yet. Wonder of wonders!
“Everything you need to know is in there
somewhere.” I truly loved being in
the creek that day, and although I enjoy fishing with those I share the passion
with, it was nice to be alone that day.
I needed that before gearing up for another school year. The country around that creek can be breath
taking. In the end, I did manage to
catch a couple of trout and kept one ten inch brown to have as a meal
later. I wouldn’t say it was worth my
time in trout, but I would say it was worth my time in trout fishing. Those are two different things.
“And it is still true; no matter how old you
are when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick
together.” Well, it’s hard to apply that
quote when I was fishing alone. But I
did think of my family when I hiked up out of the creek. I thought of them when I saw all of the barn
swallow nests up under the bridge. It
was like witnessing a reunion. I also
thought of my family as I apparently got out on the wrong side of the
creek. It was a classic mistake of
making a short cut a long cut. I
wondered if I would ever see my loved ones again, as I stumbled my way along
the ditch that sloped steeply away from the roadway above. Due to the steep hill that I was climbing, I
couldn’t get to a point where the roadway was level with the ground where I was
walking. In fact, I couldn’t even jump
up and pull myself over the cement wall that I had walked alongside for the
better part of a hundred yards. I just
couldn’t get up onto the road as it was too high for me to reach. I was getting hot and irritable. I knew the ditch eventually had to come level
with the road, but the brush was becoming impassable and I now had to watch my
footing as I was on chunks of broken concrete that had been dumped over the side
to prevent erosion. One more “hit.” It was one more chance to possibly “lose it.” One more chance to prove I could keep it
together when life throws frustrating circumstances in your face. I turned around and hacked my way back down
to the creek where I had started from. I
crossed over the creek, got out on the other side, and was up on the road in
just a few easy strides. Amazing! I then mountain climbed my way up the steep
road and back to my Jeep; all of this while still in my waders and boots.
Had
it been a good day? As they say, “A bad
day fishing is still better than a good day at work.” So yes, it was good. Was I exhausted? It’s the feeling I typically use to measure
success with when I’m out-of-doors. So
yes, I was exhausted…both physically and mentally; and I still had a three hour
drive home. But just think, all I really
needed to know I learned while on that fishing trip. To that end, it was all good; exhaustively good.
