ruffed grouse Archives - NorthStarNature

Ascending

September 19, 2021 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

Sometime in the night the air cooled, became less muggy, less smokey. The sky was darker, the stars more brilliant. On my nighttime trip outside of the tent, I had to use my headlamp to see my steps, and the shock of it scared a foraging deer close by—at least I think it was a deer? We had gone to bed when the sun set and rose before its rising. I had slept better than the previous nights, thank goodness.

This would be our shortest day of paddling—only about four miles—as we moved into the next large lake that would get us close for our exit day on Friday. The challenge was to find a campsite in a lake where many were ‘staying put.’ We were all up early and ate cupfuls of granola with powdered milk, and the coffee drinkers drank instant cold-brew coffee so as not to take time to heat water.

We fueled ourselves for the second 180-rod portage of our trip—we only had a short paddle from the campsite to the portage entrance. I was confident I could carry our pack like I did for the other portages—until I saw the steep, rocky incline of the trail—whooaa! Most of the others had already gone before me with their gear, so I used the paddles for climbing poles (not the best idea for paddles, but definitely useful) and slowly made my way up the rocks. The ascent continued. The trail peaked as we walked on huge boulders with crimson-colored wild blueberry bushes lining our path. A small clearing in the trees allowed Emily and I to see that we were at the highest elevation of our whole trip! We had climbed the ‘mountains’ that I had not wanted to portage up the day before! As we got closer to Ensign Lake, and the descent became steeper, Aaron came back to help after dropping his gear. I handed the pack off to him for the last leg.

After our ‘hooray, we did it!’ moment, we paddled on around the huge island-like peninsula of Ensign Lake. We saw campsites with large tents and colorful shade cloths, unlike anything we had seen thus far. The kids fished as we paddled, and I noticed how Autumn had suddenly appeared in the northlands.

We found a campsite on a point across from an island that was close to the west side of Ensign—a perfect spot for our last night in the BWCA.

We unloaded, set up a shade tarp and hammock, and the activities began. Aaron and Shawn went fishing, Emily and Zoe went swimming, and I went exploring. There was a nice little cove made by the point and the island with lots of rocky shore to climb along. The rocks were amazing! Most of the point was a dark purplish-colored rock that looked almost like some kind of lava rock. When I got to a place where some had chipped away, I saw that it was Ely Greenstone, which is a metamorphic rock that began as basalt lava flows that gushed onto a cold sea floor 2.7 billion years ago. The green color is from a number of different green minerals that grew in the rock. Ancient Earth history under my feet.

I moved away from the shore to climb boulders that buttressed the whole point of land, and from my vantage point, I saw where the cove met the land behind our campsite. That looks like a perfect place for moose, I thought, then saw the many tracks imprinted in the mud. But I could not tell what kind of animal made them.

The rocky trail wound back to the campsite through dried ferns and the unusual wildflower called Fireweed. The intricate lavender flowers produce elongated seed pods that burst open to fluffy white down that carry the seed on the wind. The plant is so named as it is one of the first plants to grow after a wildfire.

Emily had brought a little travel pack of watercolor paints to reignite her artistic talents that, like so many things in all our lives, had been put on the back burner of her daily life. She set up her painter’s table on a flat rock close to the water’s edge, and the two of us painted. While we were painting, we heard and saw fish jumping at the rock point so alerted Chris to that. Not long afterwards, Chris caught a nice Walleye that, along with a Northern Pike Aaron caught, became our supper.

Our constant companions in camp were a trio of Ruffed Grouse—they scurried around on the trails and through the brush, not seeming to mind at all that we were there. They flew up four or five feet to ‘pick’ the red rose hips, a fruit packed with vitamin C.

I was still very curious about the tracks in the cove, so had Aaron take me there in the canoe, but I still couldn’t get close enough to see what made the tracks. So I trekked along the shore rocks again to the land side of the cove. The ground was squishy, but I walked on the sedge grass that grew between the mud and the forest. Then I was close enough to see…the moose tracks…

…and the bear tracks…and the wolf tracks! The big three of the Northwoods had pushed pathways through the shrubs and sedge grass to get to the water’s edge. Here was evidence of the reason we protect our food in bear barrels hung in trees.

When I returned to the campsite, Chris was talking to a man and a woman who had pulled their canoe up to the shore. They explained they had dropped their water filter in a lake and needed water. As they talked, the woman filtered lake water into their Nalgenes from one of our filter bags. Filtering water is a necessary and sometime tedious job that someone has to do multiple times a day, especially in the heat that we experienced in our week there. The small bags can be filled, the filter screwed on, then squeezed to filter the water directly into Nalgene bottles. The big bag (with filter) can be hung from a branch or rope to let gravity slowly do the work. The experienced Canadian travelers were grateful for the water, and talked about their troubles of finding campsites on their trip also.

Aaron and Chris filleted the fish, and Aaron cooked it over the small camp stove—it was so good! As evening arrived, we set up tents, hung the bear barrels, and I took one last hike to the boulder look-out to see if any of the big three had come to the water. I saw lichen-covered rocks and Aaron and Zoe fishing, but that was it.

Shawn was fishing from the shore as the sun set and the moon ascended above the trees and reflected its reflected light onto the water. Another peaceful evening.

Day #4 was a wonderful day! My paddle-down-head-down moments were minimal as we left Vera Lake. I had made such progress since my Tuesday morning breakdown. The portage was surprising to me—coming up to it, I couldn’t see that it would be such a steep climb. But once again, our choice wasn’t even a choice—we just did it. I’m not even sure why I was so scared of portaging ‘the mountain’ the day before, but I guess it was my lack of confidence in myself. So the blueberry-bush-lined portage was another big deal for me—I ascended the ‘mountain’ and rose in confidence. I loved our downtime at the campsite with painting, scaling boulders, eating fish, being with grouse, and, of course, seeing the tracks of the big three of the North (if only I could have seen the animals from my boulder lookout!) I was already getting kind of sad that the next day would be our last—just when I was really getting the hang of all of this! But each day, each breakdown, each resolve, each portage, and each challenge lifted me to a better place.

This is the fourth post in a series of five that chronicles my experience of five days in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA). It is best to read the whole series from the beginning (Anticipation) in order to understand certain things I refer to in my other posts.

Challenge

September 12, 2021 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

The quiet, still mornings in the Boundary Waters are the epitome of peacefulness. We don’t realize how noisy our normal world is until we experience the wilderness. Despite another night of not sleeping well (I found myself rolling downhill off my sleeping pad), the dawn light and smooth water soothed my morning fatigue and rejuvenated my spirit. After our difficult day #2 that had little time for fishing, Aaron rose with the sun and launched the canoe to glide on the glassy water of Dix Lake and entice some fish. The mirror reflection of the shore trees and rocks is a little disorienting—the ‘real’ world doubles in illusion.

Aaron had a couple of bites, and he discovered some other early morning adventurers. He saw a mama otter swimming with her two young ones. Otters are such excellent swimmers—graceful, playful, and skilled. When Aaron got too close to them in the water, they popped up onto shore, and mama hissed at him to stay away from her babies. They then disappeared into the woods but reappeared in the water farther down the shore.

After the previous challenging day of finding a campsite and lacking any desire to stay in the cramped site that saved us the night before, we got an early start. We ate a quick oatmeal breakfast, then packed up and pushed off. I wish I could say my reckoning from the day before had eliminated my morning paddling struggles, but I had my fair share of paddle-down-head-down moments. But it was better than the previous two days, so progress is good in my book. We had a short 30-rod portage into Skoota Lake, then prepared our heads (okay, I did) for our longest-yet portage of 180 rods (a little over half a mile). It was a challenge I was ready to accept! I carried my pack and paddles up and down the rocky terrain—another milestone for me to check off. After our portage, we were rewarded by one of the most beautiful lakes we paddled through—Missionary Lake. The pictures don’t do it justice!

Another short portage brought us to Trader Lake, a smaller lake with no campsites. We paddled around a large peninsula looking for the next portage. All I could see were steep hills, and I commented I didn’t want to portage up those ‘mountains!’ The trail makers had chosen wisely though, in a place that went between the steepest elevation with only a rocky descent into Vera Lake. Our smooth portages continued with us getting all our gear in one trip and with the kids carrying packs and canoes.

It was a hot, hazy day, but with our early start we progressed through five lakes and four portages and found the last campsite on Vera was open! And it was only mid-morning! We were going to have a much more relaxing day than the day before! Our campsite was large; our tents were scattered out so that no snoring, talking in our sleep (a-hmm, like the previous night), or zzzipping the tents open and closed would disturb the others. The animals of our campsite were lots of chipmunks who bravely skittered around in the hopes of food crumbs (and climbed over Emily’s shoulders), Ruffed Grouse who made funny little ‘talking’ sounds, and of course, the Loon of the Lake who crooned us to sleep at night.

Paddling, portaging, and sleeping were not my only challenges of the week. I like to have things…clean. While I absolutely love being outside and embrace being ‘in the dirt’ in the garden and flower beds, food preparation is another story. The first time we stopped for lunch (and every meal since) when I saw all the bags of food being put down in the dirt around the bear barrels, I had a physical reaction. I wanted to pick them up and put them on….something. By the second night I was heralding the presence of a large, flat rock beside the fire grate—“We have a table!” But once again, the kids were the pros at this, despite working in the dirt. I never bit into a ‘gritty’ piece of food, I never had to brush dirt off anything I was eating, and really, I just had to ‘get over it’ a bit, because ‘when in the Boundary Waters…!’ Washing the dishes was another area where I needed to ‘loosen up.’ We didn’t have the time (at times) or the energy (at times) to heat water and wash them in hot water with camp suds. So I turned a blind eye towards that after a while (and survived.)

Another aspect of BWCA wilderness life is the latrine. From the campsite, there is a path that wanders into the woods until you reach the latrine. It is an open-air bathroom, the most primitive of outhouses. So the system of the latrine is a ‘toilet’ bag with rolls of paper to get everyone through the week and some hand sanitizer that is placed at the beginning of the latrine trail. If the bag is there, nobody is at the latrine, so pick up the bag and take it with you. If no bag, wait until the person comes back. Simple.

So much of the ‘land’ in northern Minnesota is actually just rock, and many of the campsites are positioned on large outcroppings that jut into the lakes. This huge boulder was unusual with its lines of white quartz, like ancient artwork preserved for our modern eyes.

In the heat of the day, I waded into the cool, refreshing water to where I could still stand and ungracefully dog-paddled to and fro (unlike the otters)—it was my first ‘swimming’ adventure in nearly three decades. The fishermen fished, some napped, some read, and we watched canoers pass by looking for an open campsite. We knew their frustration, even as we breathed a sigh of relief that on this day, we were settled for the afternoon and night. We had a delicious supper of chicken tacos. With our limited, measured food, we anticipated our meals with excitement, enjoyed them with gusto, and appreciated them for fueling our bodies. At dusk, Emily went swimming again while Aaron and Zoe fished. The peacefulness of our early morning settled over us again with the smokey sunset. And with that, it was time to get ready for bed.

Life is simplified in the wilderness. The sun and stars are the clocks (though I don’t know how to ‘read’ the stars yet, I was aware of their movement through the night), food is life-giving and limited, water is abundant, the ‘work’ of paddling and portaging literally gets us to a new place, and art and beauty surround us. Challenges are simplified also. As Emily said the day before as we sat in the middle of a lake with no campsite in sight—what other choice do we have but to keep paddling? In the modern world, with copious choices for nearly everything, challenges and even day-to-day events can be confusing—too many choices do not give a person clarity. Being in the wilderness allows your mind and soul to rest and rejuvenate, and even challenges can bring peace.

This is the third post in a series of five that chronicles my experience of five days in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA). It is best to read the whole series from the beginning (Anticipation) in order to understand certain things I refer to in my other posts.

Camouflage and Curiosity

November 6, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

One of our childhood games, as with most people I would guess, was hide and seek. Living in the country with four children in the family, it was the perfect get-outside-and-run activity with just enough ‘players’ to make it fun and last for a while, at least. I remember that giddy excitement after the designated person started counting—‘Where should I hide?!’ Or being the counter at the large pear tree, which I did slowly and deliberately, and finally yelling, ‘Ready or not, here I come!’ The seeking and the hiding both had an element of anticipation and surprise and would most often end in laughter, with only occasional arguments and crying. Yet I remember one morning when hide and seek wasn’t a fun game. When I woke up, I noticed my younger sister wasn’t in her bed, which was unusual. I went downstairs, but she was not eating breakfast or watching tv. I went back upstairs to look in her room, check under the bed, and look into my other sleeping siblings’ rooms. I felt the panic rising in my body. I couldn’t find her. I don’t even remember if it was summer, a weekend, or if my mom and dad were home or at work. After much frantic searching, I found her sleeping on the floor behind the couch. I was so incredibly relieved that I had found her, and she was safe. I know I asked her why she was there, and I know she had a reason that had made perfect sense to her at the time—but I can’t remember what it was.

Hiding is a survival mechanism for many animals in the wild. Camouflage by color—a rattlesnake or tree frog, and by shape—a walking stick or katydid, are common ways for animals to blend in with their environment in order to hide from predators. While driving along the gravel road at St. Croix State Park last month, we saw little creatures dart across the road and disappear into the foliage. ‘What was that?!’ I asked Chris. We slowed down and once again caught sight of one by the road but lost track of it when it moved into the woods. Finally a couple of them stopped, and we stopped, and I could get a picture of the Ruffed Grouse! They were so camouflaged with the surrounding environment that the camera had a difficult time focusing on anything!

These chicken-like birds with short legs and a crest of feathers are non-migratory, live in heavily forested areas, and forage for seeds and insects on the forest floor.

In spring, the males’ mating display includes a black ruff of neck feathers and fan-shaped tail feathers. Most notably, they stand on a log or rock and make a booming ‘drumming’ sound with the movement of their wings.

In winter, Ruffed Grouse eat buds of deciduous trees, roost in soft snowbanks for protection, and grow projections on their toes that act as snowshoes! The bird in the back of the photo has the crest of feathers up on his head.

Another woodland animal that uses camouflage is the white-tailed deer. The adult coat color blends in with the surrounding environment, and very young fawns with their white spots, hide in the brush while their mothers forage for food. Another characteristic of deer is their curiosity. As we hiked along a grassy road in the forest at St. Croix State Park, I looked up to see these three looking at us!

We stopped when we saw them, and I started taking pictures. The fawns were so cute and curious–it makes me smile every time I see these pictures!

They stood looking at us with bright eyes and attentive ears as long as we stayed still.

But when we began to walk slowly toward them, their ears flicked one way then another, and they looked around with wariness…

and soon scampered off into the woods.

Hide and seek. Camouflage and curiosity. Our mammalian brains are wired to ensure our safety. We take in cues from the external environment, just like the deer, and decide what is important, threatening, or dangerous. Most of this is accomplished without our conscious brain ‘knowing.’ This part of our brain is also where our emotions reside, which explains why I remember certain emotionally charged things about trying to find my sister but completely can’t recall other details surrounding it. I’m sure most of us can remember times in our lives when we just wanted to blend into the environment and not be seen or times when we wanted to run and hide—that is our brains working to keep us safe. Luckily, we also have a highly developed cerebral cortex that gives us the ability to learn, attach meaning, do abstract thinking, plan, predict, imagine, and choose, all within a sense of time, context, and empathy. Our brains are amazing! Within the confines of a safe place, our innate curiosity is unleashed, and we seek to learn about ourselves and the world around us. Childhood games and play are the training grounds for our minds and bodies for learning how to cope with our daily challenges. From our safe place, with curiosity, courage, and caring, we can yell, ‘Ready or not, here I come!’ and be prepared for whatever comes around the corner.

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