 Posted: April 14th, 2010
 Topics: nature, spring It rained this afternoon and evening. Of course it started about halfway through the Twins’ second-ever baseball game in the new–roofless–Target Field. The game went on, and the Twins lost to the Red Sox.
More than any previous showers yet this spring, this rain brought the green. The trees had all been mostly budded out in the past couple days, and this rain made everything explode. It smelled like life as I drove home from work; I put the window all the way down and almost found myself sticking my head out a little bit to get my nose in the breeze.
It hasn’t rained for several hours but it is still damp out, a humidity seeming to have remained. Katie said she saw a dragonfly when she took Lola for a walk earlier.
When I took the dog out just now, there was a big frog (or toad? anybody? class?) sitting on our front steps. It was bigger and prettier than any I’ve seen around here in a while. He was on the first step and looking up at the next two toward the door. Not sure where he thought he was going. I got Katie and she helped me take some photos.
Posted: April 11th, 2010
Topics: canoeing, spring, st. croix river
The annual early spring canoe outing has been thus dubbed with its name because the most consistent memory from year to year is pairs of ducks fleeing the canoe every hundred yards or so. The group this year was my lovely ladies Katie and Lola, Katie’s good friend Emily who was visiting from Madison for the weekend, and Gabe, who kayaked solo, seeking out the white bass which are decent early spring fly fishing targets, but difficult to locate.
The shy wood ducks are particularly vexed by our presence, and they burst from their hiding places near the bank, sometimes making quiet keening cries as the mated pairs fly low and fast off down the river. In comparison, the Canada geese stay put as long as they can stand it, swimming slowly ahead of us, honking mightily, until finally taking flight in a great loud event with water splashing and the big birds rising laboriously into the sky, only to circle overhead until we pass, and then returning to the water, and most likely their nests concealed on the bank.
 The capable craft waits patiently for us to take back to the water after a pit stop Gabe pointed out that in addition to the birds’ protective instincts for their nests at this important time of year, the last time they passed through was in the fall, and they probably got shot at much of their way through here. I can understand the skittishness.
 Gabe drifts with the current, scoping for elusive spring top-water fly fishing opportunities. All the birds were out en masse, including a never-ending chorus of warblers, wrens, sparrows and what all from the banks. This day there weren’t quite the number of avian voices that I’ve heard previous years, but with how abnormal the spring has been, it’s a miracle that any of these typical seasonal events and experiences were occurring normally.
 Green haze on the backwater bluffs. The highlight of the trip is always the Great Blue heron rookery about half-way down. If the timing is perfect, the birds are on their nests when the water is still really high and you can actually paddle right through the island, the big, gangly herons flapping and flopping on their nests, far up in the crowns of the trees. That wasn’t possible today, but we still got a great view as we drifted past the island. There were probably 50 or more nests visible.
 Great blue herons nest in colonies. A bald eagle flew slowly over the island as we passed, and one understood why strength in numbers might be desirable.  The water was up a little bit still, but only a foot or two above its usual summer levels. It made finding places to get out of the canoe a little challenging, but otherwise it was ideal for paddling. The current was still moving pretty good and we actually paddled very little most of the time, just doing so when we needed to maneuver around a tree in the water or some other obstacle.
 My canoe full of two ladies and one bitch. All of whom I love. Besides the steady background birdsong, the day was remarkably quiet. At various points, conversation, paddling and the wind died down and we drifted in wondrous silence, the kind that makes you feel healthy and whole. During those moments, I was reminded why, despite paddling this stretch at least a couple times a year, I never tire of coming back to it.
 Just below the rookery, the backwater we had been traveling re-joined the main river and we proceeded down a long straightaway with a pretty limestone bluff on one side and the railroad swing bridge ahead. A few boats were fishing under and around the bridge. We stopped on a beach a hundred yards downstream and ate sandwiches, looking back upstream at the valley we had already come through.
From that point, it wasn’t far down to the take-out. The river winds through a narrow channel with rocky banks that is a favorite spot for us to target smallmouth during the summer. Then it opened up into the broad valley again and we paddled steadily, moving with the current past the sunny banks.
Posted: April 7th, 2010
Topics: canoeing, fly fishing, spring  It probably says something about my dedication as a trout angler that I have frequently stood in the Rush River, frustrated by the fish, and daydreamed about paddling a canoe down the river, even imagining the route I would weave through the rocks.
It’s usually been nothing but a daydream, not even growing into a hare-brained scheme, because the river is shallow and rocky enough that normally, such a paddle would be more frustrating than fish feeding on unidentified insects.
As described by Dan Wilcox in the River Falls Journal, some adventurous folks recently took advantage of the spring’s high water and had a great paddle through just the stretch of river I’d choose:
By Saturday, March 13, water level on the Rush River had receded about two and a half feet. Members of the Wisconsin Canoe Militia (a disorganization of friends and avid canoeists) floated down the Rush River from Stonehammer Bridge to Langer’s Bar at Highway 72. The Rush was still about a foot and a half high, perfect for canoeing.
Normally the middle reach of the Rush isn’t very navigable with lots of jagged limestone rocks. That day most of the rocks were covered with water making for a fast and enjoyable float trip.
I was just talking to somebody the other day about a combined paddling/fishing trip down the Kinni canyon. Maybe I’ll have to finally do such a trip this summer, even though now it sounds like there’s a new obstacle with a big tree down across the river.
Whether it’s paddling or fishing, it’s all about just getting out on a river, and a trout river is by definition a beautiful place. Wilcox’s column pays deserved praise to the Kinnickinnic and Rush Rivers.
It’s easy to fall in love with the Kinni and the Rush rivers because of their sublime beauty. Trout fishing is a contemplative sport, and the gorgeous scenery along our neighborhood rivers is an inspiration to many not only to fish but just to be there.
Posted: April 6th, 2010
Topics: conservation, internet Last night, I posted a photo of graffiti vandalism at Fairy Falls on the St. Croix River page on Facebook, with a brief “open letter” to the vandals:
 "Hey, jerks - Why would you want to deface a beautiful cliff like this? What kind of way is this to act? Fairy Falls is a beautiful place, your scribblings add nothing to it." As I expected, the reaction from many of the 13,000 fans of the river was pretty severe, with the post accumulating 60+ comments within about 12 hours:
Angela Y: If you want to do graffiti, don’t do it to deface property and other things. Do light graffiti. No damage. No problem.
Becky P: I grew up mere feet from Fairy Falls. Never had these kinds of problems back then–which wasn’t too long ago. Maybe the occasional “Bob + Jane” scratched into a rock here and there.
Kristin K: What a shame…we love to go eat our lunches there in the summers…Stupid KIDS!
“How can we help??”
Also, not surprisingly, but still very affirming as to the power of online communities, the first reaction of several individuals was to bypass outrage and start thinking about solutions. Many folks wanted to help clean it up:
Angie H: that is a terrible sight to see….How do we fix it?
Paul R: How can we help??
Bridget B: though it may very well be our own kids doing it, lets pull our kids into the effort; that’s one way to help them appreciate the beauty of pristine, natural sites such as the Falls. Pull your kids’ friends into it as well!
By this morning, action had already started to occur. A fan of the page reported he had already gone out there this morning and picked up a garbage-bag full of trash:
Brandon Z: Yeah, I picked up one load of garbage, drove home to throw it away, and now I am out of gas so there isn’t much I can do about round 2.
Other interested folks were doing the legwork to organize a more formal effort, particularly in regards to finding out how to remove the spray paint. The National Park Service, which manages Fairy Falls as part of the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway, ought to at least be informed of any such activities:
Solvay P: I have contacted the National Parks Service – I’m awaiting a response from them about how this clean-up effort should proceed.
Want to get involved in the effort? Visit the discussion on Facebook.
Cave drawings?
An interesting aside to the graffiti discussion was the few people who actually defended the act. One individual broke out an argument I had heard before but had generally dismissed without really thinking about:
Jeff W: how are cherished cave drawings any different?
Although I think the differences are pretty obvious, thinking about it was actually kind of fun, and I came up with the following:
…most pictographs and the such were a) painted using native materials, not synthetic spray paint, b) generally small and in earth tones so they complemented where they were painted, but did not attempt to distract from the natural beauty, and c) were usually small and in inconspicuous locations so they weren’t visible from a hundred yards away.
Another individual put eloquently what I think are perhaps the more obvious distinctions:
Becky P: I’d start with the fact that these paintings tell us nothing about pre-literate cultures (avoiding a rather cruel joke here). I’d say that prehistoric man was not concerned with suburban delinquent turf wars. I’d say that a glut of space meant that natural resources were less important 1500 years ago. I’d say that the paints prehistoric humans used weren’t comprised of polluting chemicals.
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Welcome 
-Drawing by Wade
I'm a writer and Web communications practitioner with a bias toward conservation issues--particularly regarding public lands and waters.
I grew up in Stillwater, MN and have primarily lived in St. Paul and the surrounding area for the past 10 years. The outdoors are a big part of my life, as are music, film, art, and my lovely wife and dog. More...
Esker  I have published two volumes of a chapbook titled "Esker." The most recent volume, "Nowhere Else But Here," was released in January 2010. It features writings from every day of June 2009 in an old Japanese form called haibun.
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