The Clear Cut

Uniform in size, standing at attention like a 4^th grade class, except with 10,000 students.  Thick enough to preclude the possible growth of invasive under story like the all too common buckthorn and blackberry which had occupied this clear cut field 30 years before.  This was my initial impression as we entered the pine stand we refer to as the Clear Cut.

Much in tidy hand-planted rows, but not all.  Spontaneous self-seeded growth from the old forest created a restless, meandering trail through the plot, which will not make it any easier for eventual harvest crews.  But, alas, a small sacrifice that only enhances the pleasure of our walk through the pine garden. 

For this is truly a garden which we have watched develop from a stump ridden, rock strewn clearcut to what I consider a sublime, or more appropriately, serene pathway to repose.  How is it possible that a few shovels of dirt and placement of tiny seedlings could develop into such a garden of peace and tranquility?

That question you will have to answer yourself, but walk through the garden before you arrive at your conclusion.  And, we must remember it has been through twenty-five years of evolution.

While you wrestle with that one, we will proceed to the next parcel—next time.  But “BEWARE”--  for some of these strolls were in warmer temperatures and we must be careful about where we step, musn’t we?  Of course we must!

A Stroll Through Past and Future

The sun was filtering through the needled branches of the 24 year old pines.  We were strolling down a very familiar trail which we had, over time, hewed out of a newly planted nursery of tiny pine stock.  It wasn't a typical work day tour through the woods, but instead was a mandatory property evaluation required by the Wisconsin Managed Forest Land program.  This was a survey by a certified forester which would result in a management plan which will be followed for the next twenty five or fifty years under the MFL program.

Could it be possible that we have been working-or perhaps more appropriately said- “enjoying” ourselves on this property for twenty five years?  Indeed we had, and indeed the contract is due for renewal.  Thinking back, the memories are vivid, the exploits many, the experiences rewarding and the thought of our ongoing challenges and undertakings exhilarating.

One would think that after twenty five years of raising our little forest there would be little left to discover.  But, to the contrary, a stroll with a qualified forester can be very much a post-graduate experience.  We were accompanied by Buzz Vahradian, a Wautoma area forester, active in woodland programs and also with a Wisconsin DNR background. 

In future reflections, I will attempt to convey the many interesting perceptions unleashed as we wandered the trails of our treasured woodlot. A Stroll Through Past and Future.

Cabin Pitfalls

There are certain cabin pitfalls to avoid as the sun goes lower in the sky and the need for a warming wood fire grows more obvious in your heart. That is also when the diving thermometer requires an occasional late night trip to nourish the wood fire.

On one such recent excursion, I came across a painful reminder that I was not the only guest in the cabin.  I stepped on a large acorn evidently lost during an excursion from the great outdoors to a secure indoor stash by a trespassing friend.  I use the term loosely, for I assume I may have been the one regarded as the violator.

Acorns are extremely formidable structures consisting of an almost impenetrable shell surrounding a valuable content intended for the propagation of the Oak species.  It is surprising that the content can even emerge from the protective shell, seeing as how it is tempered so much harder than the human foot.  Bone bruises hurt.  I understand the concept of “risk/reward” relationship, but find it difficult to fathom why the critter would pick the biggest and hardest acorn he could find.  I suppose it had something to do with cargo value.  Anyway, I hope he’s satisfied.

Have you ever thought about the number of different Oak species we have in our woods?  I understand that there are hundreds of species of Oak, but they can be readily identified by leaf and the design of the fruit, or acorn.  Not many of us have purchased a bag of salted acorns to nibble on, but acorns have been a substantial source of nourishment for humans as well as other of nature’s creatures for thousands of years.

Come next Fall’s acorn drop, I may just go  picking and get even.

Hi!

Hi! A familiar voice, one immediately recognized as our son, Kev.  Here to help us bring our rascal computer back into control, a task he shared much of the last evening with his brother, an equally capable computer warrior.  Kev left shortly after engaging in his periodic battle with the electronic foe, when the phone rang, followed by a similar “Hi”, recognized immediately as our son, Mike, who had been engaged in the aforesaid battle of the chips with brother Kev.

Was it the battle of the rams and roms which most excited the emotions?  No, it was the assurances, conveyed  by the sound of the familiar voices, that your loved ones had once  again come to help surmount the obstacles and impediments encountered in our everyday life’s endeavors.

Yes, another  reminder that we of the “charcoal and back of the shovel” days, the ones unacquainted with the rams, roms, bytes and gigs, can be fortunate enough to prevail upon the love and favor of family and friends when the aforementioned “rascal (reluctantly not falling back upon much more appropriate adjectives) computer” casts its evermore frequent tantrums upon us.

The Cabin Commuter

Living the life of a Cabin Commuter is a very difficult chore.  As simple as it may sound, we cannot always choose to be “at the cabin” or “in the woods”.  Other evil forces may require one to remain captive in the “other” world.   The world of concrete, noise and other indicators of civilization.  Not that those things are evil, mind you, but they take a far second to the serenity of your woods.  So, whenever possible, civilization loses and the cabin wins.  But never as often as we wish.

There are forces pulling in both directions.  The family could be in the city.  Work could be in the city.  Many friends may be in the city.   But the woods are at the cabin, the lake is at the cabin, the potential woodpile is at the cabin.

Yes, the workshop is at the cabin, beckoning a single finger to press the start button or lift a tool in an attempt  to transform nature’s resource into another appreciated form.  The aroma of turning red cedar can be very motivating.

During more temperate seasons, nothing is more consoling than to sit on the deck and communicate with nature’s friends at the feeder or enjoy the family of bats who regularly take up residence at the bat house and skim through the evening summer’s stillness helping rid the deck of pesky mosquitoes.

So, like I say, it’s a difficult chore, but thank the Lord we have the opportunity to live it.

Sick Report

I have received several inquiries regarding the “sick leave” status of some of my hunting partners.  It had been rumored that certain people would do anything to escape the nutritional program centered around my Chili.  I herewith offer the following report in support of my staunch denial of my Chili’s responsibility for the aforementioned illnesses.

First, brother Warren did voluntarily show up for the second weekend of the hunt and did valiantly demolish a substantial portion of subject Chili, including  a bountiful breakfast of omelets and grits smothered in cheese and “the” Venison Chili.  Is it any wonder that he  recovered fully from whatever ailed him?

Stan, on the other hand, underwent some serious heart surgery, but –lo and behold-he is up, chipper, and looking great.  Obviously in anticipation of enjoying what is left of the Chili.

Since much of our time was spent in the woods, the poor woodpile is much depleted, so our next visit will require the utilization of a chain saw, lest we suffer frostbite within the abode.

The good news is that both ill buddies are doing well and we are looking to find some remedial solitude in the woods.

New Menu By Default

As the hunting party developed, I just knew how much they would enjoy a large “vat” of genuine Venison Chili.  I proceeded to engineer  three and a half pounds of venison, Mucho chili beans, kidney beans, sautéed onions and celery, and various and sundry secret spices into the chili vat.  And I was rightly proud of the completed product.

Then the “fit hit the shan”…..My brother, Warren, came down with the bug and chose to withdraw from the hunting endeavor.  Next, another of the party came down hurting and decided it would be impossible to join us.  Grandson Andrew “chose” to propose to Melissa and had to accompany her home to Waupaca for the weekend. 

By proclamation, therefore, the usual Menu:     

                        Breakfast at the Chatterbox                             

                        Lunch in the Woods     

                        Steak at a Local Gin Mill

Will be revised to:

                        Breakfast:     Chili        

                        Lunch:          Chili

                        Dinner:         Chili

That’s the way it goes boys.  Sorry, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but someone has to eat all this wonderful Chili. 

The Nutritional Deer Hunting Venture

The mental and physical stress of the genuine deer hunt is common knowledge.  Preparation, including necessary habitat research as well as the proper equipment acquisition and tuning, is very demanding and energy absorbing.  For this reason, most of the actual season is directed toward a feeding frenzy enabling the hunter to store up gobs of energy to be utilized in preparation for the following season. 

This can be accomplished only through the consumption of a very special selection of high energy, intellectually stimulating foods.  The primarily deer hunter diet consists of

none other than CHILI.  Obviously, it must be Venison Chili, or it will not provide the necessary energy level.

Following in importance, but not necessarily in the order in which they are consumed, are:

               Pickled Turkey Gizzards

               Pickled Pigs Feet

               Pickled Eggs

               Smelly Cheese (Over aged Brick or Limburger preferred)

               Any other foods that the little boys and girls in attendance desire

Although the CHILI can be consumed for all three meals-particularly with eggs in the morning- it is suggested that the other optional foods be consumed after 10:00AM.

We have found that following this diet closely will enable the Deer Hunter to prevail in his quest of the quarry and have energy left over to help in the preparation for next season’s hunt.

If you need further elaboration on acquisition, or preparation of this stimulating diet, don’t call.  Just ask any Deer hunter you know.  

Big Junk Boom

We are in the midst of a big junk boom

So much that I must look for room

Room for current accumulation

Of what I call possession inflation

As I look through the house to find storage space

I search endlessly for any such place

That would serve to help hide recent additions

And force those treasures into attrition

For we all know those treasures can soon overwhelm

If somebody doesn’t take over the helm

And help place our ship on a much straighter course

To nip in the bud the mysterious source

So look for the boxes with their mouths open wide

And fill them with items you can no longer hide

Those items whose usefulness can no longer be measured

Could very well end up as some other’s treasures.

We Must Get Taller As We Get Older

Remember mom standing you up against the kitchen door jam?  She would put a pencil mark at the top of your head and compare how much you grew since the last mark.  You wanted to grow taller than mom or any one else you could compare with.

Someone once said that after a while we start to shrink with age.  My brother, Warren, said even one leg could be shorter than the other, depending upon which hip you had replaced.  I suppose we could debate  that. 

Well, I have come to the conclusion that we really grow taller as we get older.  It may have something to do with the elasticity of the woods, or even the shriveling of the earth’s surface which caused the hills to grow. 

I have noticed that when bending over to put on my boots on an early hunting morning, my hands are farther away from my feet each year.  When I was sixteen, I had no problem reaching my feet to put on my boots, but recently my arms are either shorter or my legs are longer, so obviously I am growing taller from one end or the other.

Come to think of it, if this continues, I’ll have to bend over carefully to keep from bumping my forehead on the door to the Pearly Gates.  Naw, I’m sure he’ll have someone watching.

Elastic Woods -Not "Wood" but "Woods"

When I was around 16 years of age, I went hunting in the far North near Phillips, Wisconsin, with a group of friends, which included Uncle Clyde.  Uncle Clyde, who was only about 3 years older than I, was purported to have a heart murmur, whatever that was.  Mother admonished me to be sure not to let Uncle Clyde do any strenuous exercise, such as “dragging deer out of the woods”.  To  be sure, after at least a 2 mile hike into the midst of a windfall swamp, Uncle Clyde sat down and shot an eight point 200 pound buck within a few minutes of arriving at our stands.  Need I say more?

After about two hours of dragging the miserable load of venison over ten thousand windfalls (perhaps slightly exaggerated), I made it back to the road where it could be transported back to camp.  Why do I bring this up?  For the same reason people question if I really did walk 5 miles to school through stupendous snow drifts and run home for lunch just to avoid mash potato sandwiches in my lunch bag.

I remember enjoying a one mile hike to a deer stand in Shawano, Wisconsin.  It was over numerous windfalls and usually some wet swamps.  But anticipating the opening of the hunt made up for the “inconvenience” of the journey.  Did you ever notice that the older you get, the longer the hike?  “Even over the same path”?

Our Waushara County topographical map shows variances in elevation of two or three hundred feet, but I really never paid much attention.  But lately I notice that it takes more effort to traverse from the White Pines, past Bench 3, up past the Cottonwoods to the Southwest Corner.  It is only a leisurely fifteen minute walk, but my body makes it seem longer.  Do you think the earth’s surface may be stretching and the distance is actually further?  Or could it be shrinking and shriveling the surface, making the hills higher.  The elasticity seems to be making the hikes a little longer…..but so what if the trails are longer?  What better place to be than in the Woods.

The Hurrier I Go, The Behinder I Get

I must admit that this old saying was pilfered from an ancient Dutch or German philosopher much wiser than I.  It can probably be more easily related to the pace of our current social existence as almost any other---EXCEPT---the favorite expression of an old friend who had the challenging job of installing aircraft instruments into spaces invariably inadequate in size or capacity.  Upon undertaking an installation, he would commonly be heard muttering that it was like….”PUTTING TEN POUNDS OF POOP INTO A FIVE POUND BAG”

Whenever one becomes frustrated over the ability to cope with all of the responsibilities and distractions of life, we should remember that, like the old friend, the instruments usually ended up installed and operational.  Even though the challenges appear to be insurmountable, the pile-often referred to as the “to do list”- eventually goes down and sanity reappears.

While talking to a neighbor about about comparable to do lists, I facetiously remarked that I was waiting for a strong East wind.  That failing, I would tackle the leaves, which were number 14 on the list, unless they are covered by a foot of snow.

But first, Deer Hunting.