North Shore Weekend

Magnetic North 1/3/18
 
The True Cost of Love and Art
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North, where our new year dawned, still cold, but without the howling winds that blew out the old one. When I set out to do the first chores of 2018, the change was stunning. The sun and stillness was more a caress, than a slap. I could actually go without the hood of my parka and do all my chores in one trip. For the past week I divided them up out of concern for my life, and by extension, the survival of my two dozen chickens, eleven ducks, two geese and five goats.
 
Going to town for anything more than food was the rule during that nasty spell of weather. But I did make it in to spend a few hours with my fellow fiber fanatics at the butt end of our show at the Johnson Heritage Post. What a deeply delightful time that was. Weavers, needle filters, spinners and knitters, like me, just sitting about demonstrating our favorite things, while greeting curious, or just plain frozen, folks who dropped in. 
 
One day of the exhibit, I brought Julia, one of my two German angora bunnies so that people could see where that to-die-for fiber actually comes from. I set up a Pack ’N Play, the ubiquitous folding soft-sided playpen, for the big, round rabbit and visitors admired and petted her, while I showed them how I use raw angora fiber to create wildly warm mittens. I do that by knitting fat rolls of angora, along with regular wool yarn - a historic technique known as “thrumming.”  I also use cashmere thrums from my goats to make things, however installing a goat in the Heritage Post didn’t seem like a good idea.
 
“How long does it take you to make these?” was an often asked question. In reply, I just laughed and shook my head. Because time has little to do with what I, or most of my fiber friends, love about our art. Instead, making and experimenting and sharing are at the root of it all. And for me, of course, there is having an excuse to keep and feed and clean up after rabbits and goats. 
 
Having critters I love, and that love me back, then getting to relax and create all winter, making beauty things, is beyond satisfying. Why on earth would I count the cost in time or money?
 
The only cost involved that I can say I hate, is that inevitably I have to say goodbye, to suffer the loss of one of my beloveds. Not all are gut-wrenching, though.  I remember one which was actually laugh out loud funny. It involved a chicken, a big White Wyandotte. I named Twisted Sister. It fit her, because she had a beak that crossed, top and bottom, so picking up dry feed like other hens was not to be.
 
Now a true farmer would have culled the chick right off, but not I. Instead, for the several years of her life, Twisted got her egg mash mixed with water, a gruel she could scarf up even with her scissor beak. Naturally, we became fast friends and, when she died one spring day, I decided to have a proper burial for her in one of the raised beds near the goat corral.
 
Armed with Shakespeare’s sonnet 118, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate...” and so forth, I popped Twisted’s body in a fabric feed sack, and dug a hole in the raised bed. Wouldn’t you know, that day the goats got out of their fence and, spying the feed sack in my hands, made a beeline for it and me, just as I was reciting Twisted’s eulogy.
 
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,” I said, between curses at the goats as they nipped at Twisted’s burial shroud. “And summer’s lease hath all too short a date...Ahhhh, get off me you fiends!”
Finally, the mood totally blown as I sound the sack around my head to keep it from the leaping goats, I gave in, chucked my dear old friend into the hole and shrieked,’

“Thanks for the eggs!  Amen!”
 
So there you have it, why I do not count the time or treasure involved in surrounding myself with critters. Or in turning their output into art, or in the case of chickens, breakfast. It’s about joy. It’s about love given and returned. And, truth be told, dear friends, it’s about having a never-ending stream of stuff to write about. 
 
For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs-Anderson with Magnetic North.
 

Typically tamaracks drop their needles in winter much the same as deciduous trees…but sometimes they don’t. WTIP’s Jay Andersen talks with North Woods Naturalist Chel Anderson about something different: tamaracks.
 

West End News 12/28/17

Not to state the obvious, but it’s been cold this week in the West End. One benefit of the sub-zero temps is the opening of the Tofte ice rink at the Birch Grove Community center. The ice rink is open all day every day, and even has lights that stay on until 10pm each night. There is also a warming hut which comes in especially handy in this weather. The warming hut has shelves full of skates that are free to borrow. Please return them to their spot neatly when you’re finished, and if you have some skates gathering dust you can donate them by simply adding them to the shelf. The rink and skates are free, but donations are much appreciated. The rink takes a lot of time and skill to maintain so donations and respectful use are much appreciated.

A week or so ago we got an email from someone asking if they could charge their camera batteries at our house while they were up filming an event called the 2018 Minnesota Frozen Butt Hang. Having no idea what he was talking about I let him know that he probably had the wrong outfitter. A quick google search later, however, I discovered that, yes, in fact, the Frozen Butt Hang will be taking place at the Sawbill Campground the weekend of January 18^th. Being that the Sawbill Campground is more or less my backyard, I commenced a much more thorough google search to find out what the heck this event was all about. Was it a polar plunge? A nudist winter camping gathering?
It turns out the hang is referring to hammock enthusiasts. Specifically, cold weather hammock enthusiasts. The colder the better it seems for these hardy hangers. Then event began with a small group of enthusiasts getting together for a winter camp in 2011. Since then it’s been growing, and this year over 60 people are signed up to attend. It’s organized and run on a completely volunteer basis, and they even have over a dozen sponsors, many of which are sending sample gear along for folks to test out.

It seems the event draws people from all over the world. Many come from the Midwest, but there are some brave southerners headed up from the US also. I even heard a rumor that someone is coming all the way from Germany to experience our west end winter. There’s nothing like enduring a weekend of below zero weather in a hammock to bring people together, I guess. It’s amazing how far the advancement of outdoor gear has come.

The end of the year is creeping up on us. We plan to celebrate out on the ice of Sawbill Lake, as tradition dictates.  Cheers to 2018 from the West End!
 
For WTIP, I’m Clare Shirley, with the West End News.
 
 

Northern Sky - December 23 to January 5 - by Deane Morrison.

Deane Morrison is a science writer at the University of Minnesota.
 
She authors the Minnesota Starwatch column, and in this feature
she shares what there is to see in the night sky in our region.

Her column “Minnesota Starwatch” can be
found on the University of Minnesota website at
 astro.umn.edu 
 

Wildersmith on the Gunflint  -  December 22, 2017          by     Fred Smith

Although the north land has been tinkering with it for several weeks, the winter quartile is now official. The celestial bodies have aligned themselves for the semi-annual solstice signaling the first day of a new season. It’s a time of unmatched beauty in the purest sense regardless of seeming heartless at times.                                                                                                    

Darkness can be an un-nerving thing to many as daylight shows little sense of a warming obligation. Long shadows are casting chill out over the Gunflint gal right now with the sun having reached the end of its’ annual southerly swing.                                                                                                 
Due to our locale near the base of a granite range to our south, at this time of year the sun barely makes a peek over the ridge. With daylight minutes so precious, the AM sun doesn’t rise above the stone rim until nearly ten o’clock, and on cloudy days at Wildersmith, darkness starts closing in about 2:30 in the afternoon.  On some occasions it seems like all day is twilight time. Even on cloudless days “old Sol” just skips along the rocky edge scarcely giving us but sporadic glimpses of his presence.                                                                                                                                                                                                

Such grayness isn’t bothersome to yours truly, but for folks in despair over these oft short gloomy days, better moments are never-ending. It hardly seems imaginable that with one tick of the solstice clock, daylight minutes will be counting up again although barely noticeable for the next couple weeks. Please keep on Hangin’ on and focus on the beauty of this frosty paradise. Sol is creeping back our way.                                                                                                                                                             

Perhaps with “Biboon” (winter in Ojibwe) confirmed on the calendar, the “great spirit of the north” will get more serious about seasonal obligations. Cold forces have been on the downward swing over the past several days, but in spite of clouds hanging heavy with a belly full of snow, the area remains on the short side of the much needed stuff to really jump start the business of our winter customs.                                                                                                                                                  

Whereas the “Zamboni” got cranked up for several days of ice thickening, we could only muster about five to six inches of fluff in this neighborhood since our last meeting. This is hardly enough to strap on the snowshoes or skis or to make a good snow angel. Nevertheless, this meager dropping from the heavens has “re-decked the halls” along back country roads.                     

One doesn’t need a Hallmark card as a reminder of winter elegance. We border country folk just step out the door. In the words of nature photographer, Jacques Dupont, “we see so many ugly man-made things going on in the world, but the splendor of nature is the counter balance,” especially during our time of this frosty magic. All of mankind should be so lucky as to have an appreciation of that for which we have been blessed, but so often take for granted.                                                                                                                                                  
The coming days and nights are of great significance for human kind, celebrating relevant reverent rituals. As folks gather with friends and family, it would be my hope there be a time of reflection on what a mess we continue making for each other. Furthermore, to make a commitment to be less greedy, less self-indulgent and a lot less “selfie” while doing for others, as you would have them do for you.” Do some good, to just be doing some good in a world seemingly going mad!                                                                                                                                                                     

For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, with all of us “wild neighborhood” critters, wishing that all your Christmas’ may be white!”                                                                                                                                                                        
Safe travels if you must, and see you next year on the radio, WTIP of course!
 

National Forest Update – December 21, 2017.

Hi.  I’m Tom McCann, resource information specialist, with a late December edition of the National Forest Update - information on conditions affecting travel and recreation on the east end of the Superior.  Here’s what’s up around the Forest for the end of 2017.

This is the astronomical turning point of the season, the winter solstice.  December 21st was our shortest day and longest night of the year, with a day length of only 8 hours and 32 minutes in Duluth.  That gives you only 16 minutes of day on either side of your eight hour working day, so if it seems like you can’t get anything done, you are probably right.  The winter solstice day is somewhere around six and a half hours shorter than the longest day of the year in June.  But, from here on, we start adding minutes to the day, slowly at first, with the rate peaking at the spring equinox.  It may not seem like it, but spring is on its way.

Spring may be ahead, but winter actually caused our roads to improve this last week.  Ice was covered by a good layer of snow which provides some traction.  Be wary though, people have gotten stuck in parking lots where the snow layer was plowed back down to the ice.  There’s now enough snow that unplowed roads are mostly impassable, and are being used by snowmobiles.  Snowmobiles are allowed on unplowed roads, as well as in the general forest if there is over four inches of snow cover.  Other than snowmobiles, there isn’t much activity out there on the roadways.  There are no active timber operations on the Tofte District, and on Gunflint there will be trucks only on the Greenwood Road, Shoe Lake Road, and Cook County 14. 

Of course, there’s a lot of opportunity for other activities off the roads.  Ski trails are being groomed in most areas, though under heavy tree cover, there still are some patches with only light snow.  We are designating a few trails for fat tire bikes this year; check at our office or on the web for exact locations. 

While driving to a trail, keep an eye peeled for owls.  This year has seen a large irruption of owls where they move south out of Canada during the winter.  Particularly visible are snowy and great gray owls.  Snowy owls are possibly the owl most likely to be seen hunting during the day.  They spend summers in the arctic where there isn’t a lot of night, so they have to be good daylight hunters.  These beautiful white birds are often spotted near open areas, so look for them where there is a field or wet meadow.  Great gray owls are, as the name implies, very large and gray.  They have a hunting technique of swooping low over openings, which unfortunately brings them into contact with cars as they swoop over the road.  A visitor recently brought in a great gray who was found on the road, apparently unable to fly.  Our district offices are not equipped for animal care, and we usually refer people to licensed wildlife rehab people and facilities in the area.  This time, however, one of our biologists was on hand to examine the bird.  He is a bird bander, and knows how to handle owls in a way that is both safe for the bird and the person.  A great gray has talons that are over an inch long, with plenty of strength to drive them right into your hand, so they are a bird that must be treated with respect.  This particular bird was not happy at being in a box, but calmed down quickly once it was taken out.  It turned out that the bird was uninjured and probably had just been stunned and confused after being caught in the slipstream of a truck.  She was released back into the woods, away from the highway, gliding away on silent wings.

Enjoy your holiday season and our Minnesota winter.  Until next time, actually next year, this has been Tom McCann with the National Forest Update.
 

West End News 12/21/17
Ski Trails
Merry Christmas from the West End! It is easy to get into the spirit here this year as we have a cold and sparkly landscape that is quite evocative of Santa’s North Pole. When you turn inland from the Shore you have the increasing sense that you are driving deeper and deeper into a snowglobe. Fresh snow on the roads help to reveal our winter neighbors, wolf and fox tracks mingle with moose prints and the ever-present snowshoe hares are abundant as ever.

The heavy snow combined with high winds have created great travel conditions, especially on the lakes. The coming week promises some very cold temperatures too, which will only improve the hard packed snow cover out there. There’s nothing quite like skiing into the Wilderness on a crisp winter day. The snow muffles the sounds of the forest it can be so quiet you can hear your heartbeat louder than ever. Don’t quote me on this, but I’ve heard that the Boundary Waters is one of only a handful of places left in this world where you can go for 15 minutes, or more, without hearing a single human made sound. That is especially true in the winter when you are often the only human for miles.

With a busy holiday season upon us, it’s nice to know that there is a place of cold quiet just out the back door.
Closer to the Shore, the Sugarbush Trail Association has been busy grooming and tracking the vast cross country ski trail system. With somewhere around 400 kilometers of trails, Cook County boasts some of the best cross country skiing in the state. In the West End, word on the trail is that the Onion River Road is the best skiing right now, for both skate and classic. The groomers spend long grueling hours, often overnight, out on the trails keeping the conditions in tip top shape. It’s often thankless work so I’d like to take a moment right now to send out a big grateful THANK YOU! to those folks.

You may have heard that the West End has a new representative on the ISD 166 school board. Tofte’s own Dan Shirley was appointed to fulfill the remainder of Jeanne Anderson’s term. Dan grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico before making his way to Minnesota via Oregon and Montana. He is the co-owner of Sawbill Canoe Outfitters, and full disclosure, if you hadn’t already guessed, he is also married to me. Tune in to the WTIP news hour to hear more from Dan about his new position.
 
For WTIP, I’m Clare Shirley, with the West End News.
 

Need a story to brighten your day?  Rhonda Silence talks with a very special young man.

Wildersmith on the Gunflint  -  December 15, 2017       by     Fred Smith
The second full week of December found “old man winter” back on the job. Although a suitable delivery of white has yet to be received, a few mini doses have seasonal decorations back in place along the Trail.                                                                                                                                               
Boy, the gritty dry stuff has really made a difference in traversing our glazed back country roads, both on foot and in a vehicle. The gripping power of cold snow is surprising when compared with ice.  

                                                                                                                                         
Territory temperatures have dropped into the real ice making mode. As I started this weeks’ report last Sunday, the mercury has been hovering from just below to barely above zero both day and night.                                                                                                                                                          
Talking of ice making, the lake outside my door succumbed to the still, minus something air and put on her winter coat last Friday night into Saturday morning, the 8^th/9^th. I’m officially reporting the 9^th to the state/ice-on records keeping folks. I’m told ice began sweeping down Gunflint Lake west to east at almost the same hour as Loon Lake to our south late day Friday. At this time, I’m unable to confirm ice on Seagull or Saganaga, but one would have to assume, those lakes went hard water about the same time as Gunflint and Loon.                                                                                                                                        
The Smith’s had gone several weeks since seeing a moose, but such changed as we traveled to Grand Marais a few days ago. We literally didn’t bump into one, but a nice looking cow slowed our trip somewhere in the moose zone around Lullaby Creek. With new snow, guess we might expect to see more out on the black top, sopping up ice and snow melting brine, drivers, beware!                                                                                                                                                          
Recently another chapter in the on-going predator/prey drama happened right on our deck side feeding rail. Two furry adversaries stopped by at the same time, and it turned out not too pretty. One of our marten regulars came by for a piece of chicken while a red squirrel approached for a little seed munching.                                                                                                                  
The ensuing confrontation commenced as the squirrel climbed over one feeding unit and came face to face with the marten. Both startled each other and the marten abruptly changed its menu choice from barnyard fowl to rodent.                                                                                                                                     
A chase took off across the deck with the squirrel eluding capture by leaping into a white pine nearby. It seemed as though the pursuit was over. However, the squirrel apparently had memory lapse and ventured back. This time the saga did not end on a happy note.                                                                                                                                                                                               
Although I did not actually observe the showdown, the marten returned too and must have lain in waiting, nabbing the unsuspecting seed cruncher this time. To make a long story short, within moments of the first chase, I looked out to find a dead squirrel lying on the feeding rail.
Meanwhile, a marten (I assume the same one) leapt from a nearby tree proceeded along the rail, picked up its dinner surprise and dashed off. This fray must have been the ultimate in fast food.                                                                                                                                                                           
Although this was a sad natural happening (with my wife shrieking in squeamishness) it would have been interesting to observe the life or death encounter take place.                                            
A day or so later, we were entertained when a pair of the weasel kin critters stopped by simultaneously. Seldom appearing more than one at a time, these two martens were either romantically involved, siblings or perhaps parent and child.                                                                            
They shared the same feed box leap frogging back and forth over each other while munching the sunflower morsels, then, playfully cavorted around the deck, before fading off into the woods one after the other. I would like to have seen if they were so cordial with each other had a piece of meat been the fare.                                                                                                
Survival is the name of the game in the “wild neighborhood”, an everyday part of life. A fellow down the road shared an experience of such just last Sunday. The scene played out on the recently frozen Gunflint Lake ice.                                                                                                                        
With the newly surfaced international lake access, it was a perfect opportunity for animal traffic. One can only guess which way the meeting came from, but it ended up with a white tail out on the ice and the wolf pack in urgent pursuit. Needless to say the deer was not too effective on the slick surface while the pack had a slightly better grip on things. The end came quick as the venison critter was soon taken down in agonizing fashion.                                                                  
According to the observer, this chase ended in a violent attack. The spectacle was a wretched end of life for one and of life sustaining satisfaction for another, sadly a necessary element in the total scheme of creation.                                                                                                                  Closing on a more cheerful note, with a number of Trail residents included, the annual Borealis Chorale and Orchestra Christmas Concerts were presented last Sunday & Monday.  As usual the chorus and orchestra gave a splendid performance. This amazing group of local singers and musicians is something to behold, most certainly setting the stage for the season where “LOVE IN THAT STABLE WAS BORN.”                                                                                                                                                                          
For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where everyday life in the wildland, smacks of adventure and intrigue sandwiched in between earthly peace and quiet!
 

Magnetic North 12/12/17
 
Lasting
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North, where several days and nights of gentle snow make all things sparkle and bring the evergreen trees into sharper focus. The towering White Pine standing on the southeast edge of the meadow seems to take center stage, a kind of palace guard standing watch over my winter world. Summer meadow flowers and deciduous trees proved fickle. One good frost and a few days of wind and were out of here. But not the pines or balsam or cedar or spruce. They are in it for the long haul. Their colors last and I am grateful for that.
 
That word, “last,” crops up a lot these days in my imagination. For instance, on a particularly wretched day of sleet and high winds, I imagined the outcome if I took a crippling fall on the skating rink that annually forms between the house and chicken coop. How long would I last, I wondered. And then, I thought, better to fall outside the coop than in. Chickens, especially starving ones, would not be kind. And so forth.
 
These nightmare fantasies are not peculiar to me. Anyone living in a remote spot like this has them from time to time. Even if one does not live alone. I remember how Paul and I had a come-to-Jesus conversation one below zero night when I stayed out in the barn from 10 until midnight, combing cashmere off the goats. I lost track of the time and when I finally looked at my watch  I felt terrible for worrying Paul.
 
Well, as you might have guessed, Paul was sound asleep in bed. But not for long!  “What’s got you in a tizzy, sweetheart?” he mumbled, trying to pull back the covers I so unceremoniously ripped off him. So I told him. “What if I’d broken a leg or fainted out there? In this weather, how long would I last?” He protested that he didn’t worry about me, not because he cared so little, but because he had so much confidence in me.” It was a good effort. But it fell on deaf ears.
 
“Here’s the deal, my sweet,” I growled at the poor man. “If you EVER go to bed and leave me to freeze outside you’d better pray that I’m good and dead when you finally do come to look for me!”  
 
Another way I think of “lasting,” besides physically surviving is in the way folks begin to see their big decisions in life. My friend, Sylvia was furious when someone admired her new car, then added, “Well, this will probably be your last one.”  Who needs that?
 
But it got me thinking, always a dangerous thing for me. There will be a “last car” and a “last order of chickens from Murray McMurray,” not to mention a last vote or meal or belly laugh. There will even be a last time I look across the meadow and say my morning prayers gazing at the old White Pine. One of us simply will outlast the other.
 
Oh, now please don’t think I linger in the shadows of my imagination. But often they give me the best giggles of the day. Case in point. When I told my only child, a wonderful, albeit slightly controlling know-it-all, that I’d paid a fortune for a Norwegian Forest cat - she scolded, “Mom!  Do you really think that was necessary, with all of your other animals?”
 
So yes, I have a few more critters than most: two big dogs, two long-haired cats, two angora rabbits, eight bantam chickens, five Swedish ducks, eleven mallard ducks, two buff geese, twenty-nine laying hens and five goats. 
 
She had a point. But, to my everlasting shame, I countered with a sucker punch no parent should ever throw. Sighing mightily into the phone, I said, “Ohhh, but honey, this will probably be my last cat.”
Yes, I said that. I played the Old Lady Card on my own child, no less.
 
Of course I apologized for doing that and vowed never again to use my nearness to the Great Beyond to win a point with her.
 
Today, Wolfie, the Norwegian Forest cat, sits on the back of the couch, hungering for just one bite of the black capped chickadee feeding on sunflower seeds outside.  The short-eared Northern owl we both watched for weeks on the meadow seems to have moved on. One day it simply did not appear. The last time I saw it was on my way to Thanksgiving dinner with friends. He (or she ) was sitting on the fence rails surrounding the vegetable garden. I waved as I drove by. The pretty buff colored owl stared right at me. And that was the last time I saw it.
 
Another “last” that I didn’t see coming. And really, when I think about it, isn’t that just as well?
Thanks for listening. For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs-Anderson with Magnetic North.