Wildersmith on the Gunflint: May 29

It was a glorious holiday weekend in Gunflint territory until the actual Memorial Day when dismal and damp took over. With inviting weather, the Trail was alive with as many vehicles as one could think of pulling and toting a sundry of wildwoods gear and water craft. Warm conditions made us year-around residents forget about the winter past.

Although our cold season was not too intense, we nevertheless have had reminders of such on the ground since last November. As of last Sunday (May 24), the last of our ice build-up along the Mile O Pine passed into history. So if I count right, winter character engulfed us in some manner for seven months. The Wildersmith neighborhood recorded what should be its last snow on Tuesday, May 19th. Leaf-out is nearing completion and should be in full bloom within the next few days. Beautiful as winter can be along the Gunflint Corridor, spring is equally dazzling. A trip on the Trail this time of year is breath-taking with a mosaic blur of green tints from mountain tops to valley bottoms. Could there possibly be “fifty shades of green?”

After some timely rains mid-month, the area has been on the dry side lately. This condition has not stymied the onslaught of buzzing biters. The black flies are attacking with their usual vengeance, while the mosquito coalition is still gathering for training in their blood letting antics.

On another wilderness note, ticks are on about every item protruding from the earth. Several folks have shared observing many smaller ones. This might indicate they could be the dreaded black-legged deer ticks. Care should be taken with daily body examinations if activity takes one into the brush or grass of any kind. I hate to think about how the animals of our “wild neighborhood” are being tortured by these noxious creeps.

Cameo appearances by several members of the animal world have been reported. Any number of moose have been sighted in the twilight hours of both am and pm. But to date, I’ve not heard of calf observations in spite of usual deliveries around this time. Several accounts have been shared about a momma bear and her twins carousing throughout the Gunflint/Loon lake vicinity. I’m sure this family is just the tip of the iceberg for “Brunos,” as thousands call border country home.

Over the past few years, near the locale of our mailbox, a raven pair has nested high in the white pines. This time of year they are always squawking the accolades of new babies. On a recent day while waiting for a somewhat tardy US Postal delivery, more than the usual yapping caught my attention. After a few moments of scanning the tree tops, I found the culprit. It turned out to be a juvenile raven perched on a rather obscure branch. I don’t know how it ended up on this particular limb, but there it was. Whatever the case, my time was amused watching this kid, as it worked up the courage to make perhaps its maiden flight. With a great deal of commotion, flapping the wings, hopping from one direction to another, calling for help and the like, the youngster just couldn’t get into the air. This must have gone on for the better part of a half hour. When I departed the site, junior raven was still there. I haven’t observed it since, so bravura must have ultimately prevailed.

In the final analysis, my semi-annoyance with late mail was tempered into oblivion while sharing this growing-up process in Mother Nature’s world.

On a final note, neighbors along the Mile O Pine enjoyed a raven adventure of their own. In fact, this ebony-hued critter might have been from the same nesting pair mentioned earlier, as it was in the same neighborhood. Their raven tale came to pass while sitting on their deck enjoying a wonderful mid-day lunch. Without warning this brazen “black beauty” swooped down and landed on a birdfeeder tray, barely feet away from them. Momentarily looking them over, the big bird lifted off into a nearby tree top. Hoping the curious critter might be lured back, the lady of the house went to her bread-box cache and brought out a slice. She broke bread into seven pieces, laid them in a row on the tray and went back to sit for a possible return visit. In a short few moments the raven touched down once again. It scarfed up all seven scraps at one time and was soon off into the wild blue yonder, beak full of dough. What an extraordinary treat to break bread with a member of our wilderness world. An exclusive photo of the bird, with bread in beak, can be seen with my Wildersmith website column on WTIP.org.

Keep on hangin’ on and savor a Gunflint summer adventure!

(Photo by Betty Hemstad)