Revolution Watch---Oil Issues

Wouldn't we all know it, the minute one thinks the revolution is slowing down we get a Black Swan flying in. So the sustainable revolution gets a kick in the pants and everybody starts taking about getting off oil. But they are just talking, at least up here in the north. Now, on the golf coast there might be some concern, but wait a minute. I just read they are demanding we get back to deep water drilling immediately becasue the slow down will hurt the economy. Like wow. Does this mean the standard of living will have to drop---which is part of the revolution? Yikes, these events, maybe a compelling event, might push us along in the great change, but probably not.


This photo is incredible in that it is beautiful but at the same time terrifying. We live in strange times.

The Luna

Nature does have some beauties, of which I am one. I don't mean that in the classical sense but more as a metaphor. That is, I have certain attributes that I consider beautiful in a certain way. For instance, I am modest because I only think I am half as good as I really am. I also have a sort of coarseness that may be seen as rugged which can be equated with handsome in a primitive way. I can't continue in this vain. I am going to get in trouble and some individuals are sure to make rude comments.



I bring up beauty because my brother Jeff (no more beautiful than me) just passed along the attached photo of A Luna Moth. Now, I have seen them before and each time have always paused to take note as much for the color as for the size. At close to six inches and a luminous delicate green color with intricate imitation eyes on it's wings, it is stunning. What caught my attention about this one is the perfect, untouched condition. Every single aspect of its anatomy is fresh and glorious. Clearly it has just emerged from its cocoon and is about to enter it's first night of looking for a mate.

By morning it will be a bit tattered having crashed into a few trees and plants, maybe the rain will come and wash away the splendor but for now it is a real treat, a treat seldom seen just in passing. They are nocturnal and normal hide in the day but this one set itself up on the window where it could be seen by a bunch of kids and Jeff with his camera. Take a good look for it is pristine. A creature of the green mansions.

The turkey Hunt and Some

Opps. Seems I have been remiss. Spring bites and my life moves to the outdoors.

I am not the most ardent hunter but I am a hunter. If I were Daniel Boone life would be hard and food might come a little slow but then this is modern America and I can be lax in my procurement of food.



This is to say I approach it leisurely. The first couple of days I might get up at 5:00 and head to my predetermined stand to see if any gobblers are in the area. As first light approaches the big boys start carrying on giving out their rather odd gobble as a way of announcing their presence to the girls, better know as hens. In making this noise they also announce to any hunter their exact whereabouts.

On my first outing, and I will admit I was a little late, I heard only a few distant gobbles and realized at this location I was probably going to entertain myself counting ticks and looking at song birds. The same thing happend at my other spot. There just were not many turkeys. It seems the last couple of winters have been hard on them. A rain in January followed by a frost covered the food. Not good.

As a result of the low population, I backed off on my efforts and settled for sitting in the woods for a number of hours calling my brains out, that is making lonely hen noises, trying to see if I could attract a willing suitor--not for me, of course. I had intentions of putting him in the freezer. No luck.

I did count numerous Wood Ducks in the pond, sandhills skirting about looking for that one perfect spot. Then there was the geese to the east who endlessly rattled about the swamp bickering and getting ready for goslings season.



The big event of the four days in the woods was finding a Black & White Warbler lying dead in the field where I hunted. There, simply discarded by nature, was this tiny bird of song. There were no marks of struggle, no missing feathers, no blood from it's tiny heart. It simply had ceased to be as a living thing. It's song was gone, a song I had been hearing as I sat tucked in the thicket thinking I was a hunter. It seemed a waste. It had not been consumed and appeared to be simply drying up in the sun. I guess that is the cycle. Maybe he had the warbler pox and couldn't get to the doctor. It was the first time I had ever seen this feathered minuscule angel of the forest. For that I give thanks and consider my stay in the woods worthwhile.

Missionary's Position---Water Here

This is a poster of a water issue forum that is about to take place here in Amherst. It seems that some of the local Lakes and Rivers are literally going dry. Now we have had a few years here that have been thought to have been slightly dry, maybe 5 of them in a row, but not really dry, just down some.

What we have had are additions of circle pivot sprinkler systems on agriculture land. The reason for the new irrigation is to increase harvest to maximum levels of mostly potatoes and corn, that's the corn being used for ethanol. They have always had potatoes here, and for that mater corn but for some reason they think they have to hype the growth to max out every thing. Plus, it is well known the ethanol type corn is very water intensive. Oh, the old energy thing again.

At this point there is push back and an attempt to pass legislation to curb the heavy water extraction which is no doubt causing the draw down of our watershed. This state, unlike Colorado, has almost no water law, so its everybody for themselves and screw the lakes. I believe in fighting back so a week ago, I and a few local activist went down and testified at a Senate Hearing in Madison. Felt good and necessary. It was enjoyable because the chairman of the Conservation Committee is an old friend from rugby playing days at the University. We got the only laugh of the day in commenting about brain injury. The water thing is not funny.

Revolution Watch--Your Good and Your Bad

Right here in central Wisconsin they are moving on wind energy. One has to give them credit because The Rapids is not a rich place and they have been hit with paper mill closings that have set them back. To see them step up the the plate is interesting because one would think they are angry, distraught, and unconvinced there maybe a problem with energy, but BINGO. There is no reason to think all the new technology has to go to Europe or China. Have to wish them luck.

But then on the other hand the local newspaper comes out opposed to the rail proposals. My God man, do you think this car thing will go on for ever? Warren Buffet just took a major position in Burlington Northern because he says rail is the future. Our CSX stock just keeps going up and pays a dividend. Time to get real on all quarters. This is the sustainable revolution.

Our wind energy stocks are close to flat lining. Not good there but some win and some loose.

The Finished Product

The maple sap hardly ever came, but after a threat of a lawsuit, there was a change of weather and the nectar did, at least in some trees, dribble out. I was able to capture some 25 gallons for what clearly was marginal drippings. I was not happy. Because it just didn't seem enough and I was suspicious that the warm weather may have not only disrupted the flow but altered the sap itself, I needed another plan.

At the last moment, the word was out that Byron had left town because he had to go goose hunting in North Dakota and was not able to bring in the the late season run. In a fit of need, I ascended on his sugar bush of some 80 trees and with the help of his dandy new tractor secured a bounty of another 25 gallons of pure, pristine sap---a few bugs floating yes, but small feathery ones.

What followed is what I suspect is all light-hearted sap gatherers most favorite activity and that is the rolling boil. This event is usually accompanied by a roaring wood fire under a big pan finding the sap harvesters sitting comfortably in front drawing on a pleasant Wisconsin beer. The wood is fed in casually, but constantly. As the liquid steams off the batch, it becomes more concentrate and with that, the wafting smell of maple syrup drifts through the air. It is the smell that brings us all back. It is the smell of spring, of March. Coupled with the ever present odor of burning pine and poplar there is no greater welcome of the season. With the sound of the Cardinals ever decending calls of love and the distant songs of Sandhills the wealth of the land presents itself to all senses.



The grand touch in the finishing boil that takes place in the kitchen. The final reduction of water is carefully carried out with more control for to over render is a mess that can not be described and will leave ones marriage well marred. Dangerous as it may be, this final act is my favorite, for once the boil is going, the air of the kitchen is filled with the intensity of maple flavor. What a treat to walk into the warm kitchen and be blasted by that smell of spring's bounty.

The first batch turned out dark and of poor taste but the workings of the Sugar Maples from Byron proved true and if I might say robust---a spring worth having.

The Hog-eyed Man

I just was presented with an old drawing done by my delightful daughter maybe when she was fourteen. It contains a side portrait of none other than me. It has the usual mouthful of teeth with a hint of a smile, maybe a sly smile. She makes note that it is her Dad. In the bubble of speakage it says "What me to play my fiddle? That's what I thought." It implies that I would take out my fiddle, ask the question and then play no matter what the audiance said. It was a like-it-or-leave-it comment and that no matter what others thought I was going to play my damn fiddle.


Ya, they got tired of my asking and probably playing but I have prevailed. The kids did move away but I don't think I drove them out, I don't think, but I never did ask. In any case, I love to play in the kitchen by the old cook stove.

If nothing else the old songs bring back a few memories of barn dances, maybe some history and a number of times in the distant mountains when we played for the reinactmnets of mountain men in the long ago. There were some great names to the tunes, Cluck Old Hen, Jack's Maggot, Nixon's Farwell and Hog Eyed Man. The music never goes away.