Sleepy badger

Look at him, he's probably dreaming about mauling prairie dogs.

Sleep well, my ill-tempered friend.

Seen a while ago at the NEW Zoo, near Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Terrible ideas

I'm looking for an artist to flesh out my concept for a children's show. It's a carnivorous South American catfish with a never-say-die attitude: The Can-Do Candirú!

Likewise, I want to write and illustrate a children's book on animal tracks and signs. It will be called Which Species Made These Feces?

I have a business plan for a drive-thru restaurant for vultures: The Carrion Carry-Out.

I want to print bumper stickers with this slogan: Fortune Favors The Bold, But Inertia Favors The Lazy.

Bears and minivans: a love story

Bears love minivans. I stumbled across a recent (2009) paper in the Journal of Mammalogy which demonstrates this scientific fact:

ABSTRACT: Black bears (Ursus americanus) forage selectively in natural environments. To determine if bears also forage selectively for anthropogenic resources we analyzed data on vehicles broken into by bears from Yosemite National Park, California. We classified vehicles into 9 categories based on their make and model and collected data on use (2001–2007) and availability (2004–2005). From 2001 to 2007 bears broke into 908 vehicles at the following rates: minivan (26.0%), sport–utility vehicle (22.5%), small car (17.1%), sedan (13.7%), truck (11.9%), van (4.2%), sports car (1.7%), coupe (1.7%), and station wagon (1.4%). Only use of minivans (29%) during 2004–2005 was significantly higher than expected (7%). We discuss several competing hypotheses about why bears selected minivans.

Basically, the authors looked at the National Park Service database of bear vehicle break-ins in Yosemite Valley from 2001 to 2007 and broke down the data by the bruins' choice of vehicle type for each nocturnal breaking-and-entering session. Even though minivans represented only 7% of the vehicles parked overnight in Yosemite Valley, an astounding 28% of all ursine vehicular incursions were directed against minivans.

Read the article for yourself (not sure how long this link will persist.)

Why do bears love minivans so much? Is it the comfortable bucket seats, the generous cargo area, the convenient sliding doors, the "not great but really pretty ok for a big car" gas mileage? It is well known that bears enjoy all things automotive: outside Denver, a bear broke into a car, put it in gear, and crashed it into a tree. The car was a total loss. Back to minivans, though, it turns out that the convenient sliding doors and adjustable seats are part of the allure. One of the authors was quoted in a San Francisco Chronicle article on the study as saying that bears pry open the doors, tear out back seats, and pop open windows (rear side windows are apparently their favorite entry route) in their quest for people food stashed in minivans. Do the bruins favor vehicles with Stow-N-Go seating for easy removal of back seats? The results are unclear, but my thought experiments strongly indicates the answer may be yes.

In the end, the answer comes down to children. Not that the children are themselves food for the bears (really, only witches regularly consume children, though the occasional ghoul will take a child in opportunistic feeding situations), but insofar as minivans are likely to be used to transport children, who grind Goldfish dust soaked with Capri Sun into the upholstery. No matter how fastidious the grown-ups are about not leaving food in the van, the atomized food particles in the seats are sufficiently odorous to compel a passing bear to break and enter in hopes of scoring a pawful of Cheerios and a Sunny D chaser.

Sounds like folks across the Pacific are no better off. According to several reports, bear attacks are on the rise in Japan. Are Japanese bears smaller and more efficient maulers? That's unclear, but the Land of the Rising Sun has a storied history of bear attacks. The man-eater was probably just frustrated because minivans wouldn't be invented for another 70 years or so.

Reference:

Stewart W. Breck, Nathan Lance, and Victoria Seher. (2009). "Selective foraging for anthropogenic resources by black bears: Minivans in Yosemite National Park". Journal of Mammalogy 90(5):1041–1044.

Clean for half a decade

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been clean for half a decade. I haven't had a Mountain Dew since October 30, 2005. I miss it every day. I have dreams about the golden nectar of sugar and caffeine. Having an addiction means being an addict for the rest of your days.

Picture stolen from Wikipedia

You see, Mountain Dew, it's not you - it's me. You got me through high school and college, and even into my first years of work. I remember driving to and from Arkansas to go fishing with my co-workers - for many hours in the car, you and beef jerky as my only companions. Remember that ridiculous rental car? Good times. When I went to the two-week bridge inspection training class, you were with me. One 20-ounce bottle at the beginning of class in the morning, and another one to ward off the post-lunch food coma. I'll never forget that, but you have to see that things are different now. I'm pretty sure that while I was working on my mechatronics project in college, I easily drank six Dews in a 24-hour period several days in a row. More than once, I had a bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew and a cold Pop-Tart for dinner on the way to the mechatronics lab. Same with my computer engineering senior capstone - especially since the vending machines in the main engineering building dispensed both original and Code Red in one-liter bottles. These are all treasured memories, but you and I have drifted apart, Mountain Dew. You have too much sugar, and your acids attack the enamel in my teeth. I wish I could say, "let's still be friends," but we both know it can never be. I wish you would tickle my innards again, but we'd only be kidding ourselves. Go on, Mountain Dew - don't wait for me. I really have a lot of "me" work to do. You're great. Really. Go find a nice teenager who will treat you right. You deserve it.

Habemus Papum

My cousin Nancy has two sons. The older boy, Owen, attends a preschool hosted by the local Roman Catholic parish, where portraits of popes past and present are found on the wall. The younger boy, Joel, often accompanies Nancy on her trip to take Owen to school. As he toddles by each Successor to Peter, Joel likes to ask, "Who dat?" I like to imagine that the conversation goes something like this:

Joel:	Who dat?
Nancy:	That's John XXIII, dear. He was expected to be an insignificant stop-gap pope, but instead called the Second Vatican Council, which had far-reaching consequences felt yet today.
Joel:	Who dat?
Nancy:	Honey, that's Gregory XIII. He is best known for establishing the modern calendar in response to the increasing difference between the Julian calendar and the solar year, but also he founded many universities and supported the arts.
Joel:	Who dat?
Nancy:	My dear boy, that is Pius XI, remembered for his anti-Nazi encyclical Mit brennender Sorge, written in German, rather than the usual church Latin.
Joel:	Who dat?
Nancy:	My beloved son, that is Leo XIII. His encyclical Rerum Novarum was the first papal document addressing the conditions of the working class; it attacked both communism and unrestrained capitalism while affirming the right to private property.
Joel:	Who dat?
Nancy:	That's the water fountain, Joely. Your father's relatives in Wisconsin would call it a "bubbler."

So delighted is Joel with papal regalia that Nancy instituted a "Pontiff-fy My Son" contest on her blog. I had to give it a shot - if not because Lisa and I are the godparents of this would-be Bishop of Rome, then for the can of Old Bay seasoning promised to the winner.

My entry didn't win - it was bested by some very gifted Photoshop artists - but I stand by it:

Take heed, Pope Joel I: sic transit gloria mundi.

Flags: State of Nevada

I'm in Reno for a conference, so this seems like an appropriate time to comment on Nevada's state flag. I like the choice of the cobalt blue field; it looks nice against the western sky and complements the national flag. In the corner is a logo (significantly, not the state seal, which is the vexillological kiss of death according to my state flag manifesto) with two sprigs of sagebrush (the state flower), a star, and a banner with the slogan, "Battle Born." The slogan is a reminder that Nevada joined the Union during the Civil War. The state's silver mines helped finance the Union Army. The flag loses some points by having the name of the state printed upon it - another state flag no-no - but overall I like it. It certainly looks like the flag of no other state.

The other symbols of the Silver State include some pretty awesome things. The state flower is sagebrush, as mentioned above, and its fragrance is unmistakable and delightfully refreshing.

Nevada has a remarkable state fossil: the ichthyosaur Shonisaurus, found near the ghost town of Berlin, was a 55-foot-long marine reptile from the late Triassic. This Mesozoic fish-eater is so totally sweet that it gave its name to a state park (Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park) and a beer (Ichthyosaur IPA, from the Great Basin Brewing Company in Sparks/Reno).

When it comes to extant things aquatic, the Silver State does not disappoint. The official state fish is the Lahontan cutthroat trout, Oncorhynchus clarki henshawi, the largest subspecies of cutthroat trout. The Nevada Legislature describes its awesomeness and appropriateness:

The Lahontan Cutthroat Trout, a native trout found in 14 of the state's 17 counties, is adapted to habitats ranging from high mountain creeks and alpine lakes to warm, intermittent lowland streams and alkaline lakes where no other trout can live.

The Lahontan cutthroat narrowly escaped extinction due to overfishing and competition with introduced rainbow and lake trout. A relict population was found high in the mountains; through hatcheries, this population has reintroduced the species to some of its old habitats.

The state mammal (though the Legislature mistakenly calls it "the state animal") is the desert bighorn sheep, Ovis canadensis nelsoni a handsome beast with a smaller stature but wider horns than its Rocky Mountain cousin, O. canadensis canadensis, which coincidentally is the state mammal of Colorado (likewise, another subspecies of cutthroat trout is the state fish of Colorado). The state reptiles is the desert tortoise, Gopherus agassizii, a long-lived shellback found in the southern part of the state.

There are many other awesome things about the Silver State that I plan to write about later, so I'll stop here. One final note, though: the accepted local pronunciation is "Nuh-VAD-uh", not "Nuh-VAW-duh". Nevadans have publicly booed a sitting President on at least one occasion for deviation from the accepted local pronunciation of the state's name.

A former state archivist wrote on a Nevada State Library & Archives site that

Folks east of the Rocky Mountains defend saying “Nuh-VAW-duh” by claiming it’s the proper Spanish pronunciation. So why don’t they pronounce Florida, Texas, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and California by their Spanish pronunciations?

The state tourism office is so intent on settling this issue that they included pronunciation help on their promotional logo:

Ten things I love about Nebraska

Nobody should write off the Great Plains as "flyover country." There's a lot of neat stuff to do, though I concede that it's a little bit spread out.

Here are ten of my favorite destinations in Nebraska, moving from east to west. Most of them are reasonably close to Interstate 80.

1. The Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha is a world-class institution. Among other things, it has the world's largest indoor habitat dome: desert at street level, "Kingdom of the Night" nocturnal critters exhibit in the basement. Like many zoos, they have a narrow-gauge tourist railroad running through the park - but this one is powered by a bona fide steam locomotive. Finally, I saw a monkey riding a tapir in the jungle exhibit, which rocked my world.
   


2. The Strategic Air & Space Museum (formerly known as the Strategic Air Command Museum), near Omaha. They have a B-36 and a B-52...in the same hangar. I was a bit rushed during my visit; I could have spent all day there.
   


3. The state capitol building in Lincoln is a significant piece of Art Deco architecture. It ranks with Baton Rouge and Honolulu as one of the most distinctive state capitol buildings (Huey Long essentially stole Nebraska's design for the capitol building in Baton Rouge. He was later shot in that very building, but that's another story). Nerds will enjoy the Classical-style floor mosaics of critters from the state's fossil record. Fiscal conservatives will appreciate that the building was paid off by the time it was completed - on time and under budget - thanks to pay-as-you-go financing.
   

   The Nebraska Legislature which meets in the capitol is also remarkable. Nebraska is the only state in the Union with a unicameral legislature. Upon statehood in 1867, Nebraska had a typical bicameral legislature with a state House of Representatives and Senate. In 1934, however, the populace voted to amend the state constitution, dissolving the House and making the Senate the sole legislative body - largely as a Depression-era cost-saving measure. As if a single, more transparent legislative body wasn't fantastic enough, the legislature is completely nonpartisan! While legislators do have party affiliations, each of the 49 Senators effectively runs as an independent candidate and is expected to vote strictly based upon conscience and the will of the constituency rather than party platforms. Oh, and the constitution requires that they balance the budget before leaving each session. Yeah.
   

4. Fort Kearny Historic Site. This stopping point on the Overland Trail features a reconstruction of the stockade and blacksmith shop. To be sure that visitors are sufficiently confused, there's a similarly-named state recreation area to the north; also, the fort is spelled 'Kearny' while the county and nearby city are spelled 'Kearney'. Still worth a visit.
   


5. Pioneer Village. See "a history of man's progress" at this museum in Minden.


6. The UPRR Bailey Yard, the world's largest railroad classification yard, located in North Platte. There is a sweet double-decker observation tower (The Golden Spike Tower) from which to take in the action. You haven't lived until you've seen boxcars getting humped.
   


7. Chimney Rock National Historic Site. This needs no explanation to anyone who's played Oregon Trail. Somehow, the indigenous name for the pillar - The Elk Penis - never took off with Victorian-era settlers.


8. Scott's Bluff National Monument. Imagine traveling overland along the Platte River Road, heading west from the Missouri River over 400 miles of prairie. Then, out of nowhere, comes a giant freaking rock. ... Curiously, Scott's Bluff is slightly closer to the city of Gering than the city of Scottsbluff.
   


9. The Wildcat Hills area of the Panhandle is very beautiful.
   


10. Panorama Point. At 5410 feet above sea level, it's the highest point in the state. It's no towering peak - in fact, the "point" is a barely perceptible rise. However, it exemplifies the subtle beauty of the high plains. After Lisa and I returned to the car following the grueling summit trek, we were rewarded with the sight of wild pronghorn grazing nearby.
    

Honorable mentions go to the following places I have not personally visited but sound amazingly sweet:

• Take a ride on the Fossil Freeway! This auto tour route (highlighted in red on my map) runs across the Nebraska Panhandle from the Colorado line north into the Black Hills country of southwestern South Dakota, with awesome science, nature, and culture destinations along the way. In Nebraska alone, you'll find (from south to north):
  • The Wildcat Hills and Scott's Bluff, noted above
  • Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, near Harrison, home to a great assemblage of Miocene fossils
  • The Trailside Museum at Fort Robinson State Park, near Crawford
  • Hudson-Meng Bison Bone Bed
  • Toadstool Geologic Park, crazy rocks in the Nebraska National Forest, also near Harrison
• Niobrara National Scenic River, near Valentine - according to the National Park Service, it is "not just the premier recreation river in Nebraska," but a "unique crossroads where many species of plants and animals coexist unlike anywhere else." Nearby Smith Falls State Park is home to the tallest waterfall in the state (at 63 feet high, it's no joke).
  
• Ashfall Fossil Beds State Historical Park, near Royal - "The Pompeii of Prehistoric Animals" is maintained by the University of Nebraska-Lincoln as an active paleontological dig where all work goes on in full view of visitors. Truly, it is a living laboratory of giant dead things.
• Carhenge, in Alliance, needs no explanation.
• An enterprising family has turned a decommissioned Atlas E nuclear missile site near Kimball into a comfortable home - and it's for sale!. Tours available by appointment. Some lucky dude who got a tour has posted his photos of the site for the rest of us. Here's a video feature on the site from the Nebraska series "Next Exit".

On the map below, the ten sites I've visited are marked by blue pushpins, and the bonus sites are marked with green pushpins. The route Lisa and I took across the Cornhusker State a few years ago is marked in blue, and the Fossil Freeway in red - note that the routes overlap between Scottsbluff and Kimball.

View Ten Things I Love About Nebraska in a larger map

FULL DISCLOSURE: I am not on the payroll of the Nebraska Division of Travel and Tourism, but I am willing to be.

BWCA 2010: Aftermath

A few post-canoe trip thoughts:

• Our total distance traveled in the BWCA wilderness was about 26 miles. Of that, a little less than three miles consisted of portages. That's the one-way distance, not counting multiple trips on each portage. It was a bit underwhelming, then, to learn that our take-out was less than five miles (as the crow flies) from our put-in.
  
  
• Our route was basically an arc centered between Wood Lake and Wind Lake with a radius of three miles, subtending an angle of about 300 degrees. Even though we were having an authentic wilderness experience - the only sign of civilization was the occasional airplane noise - we were never really that deep into the wilderness as the crow flies. It's worth mentioning, though, that we ain't crows - once you put a paddle in the water at the put-in, you're on your own. May it ever be so. We periodically checked our position against the Fifteen Minute Rule: if you can go 15 minutes without hearing anthropogenic sounds, you're in a truly special place. As often as not, places we visited passed the test.
  
  
• The BWCA trip sometimes felt like Bizarro World on Opposite Day. We wore hiking boots while paddling and portaging, and accepted that our boots and wool socks would be wet basically all the time - and we kept our sandals dry for in-camp wear. Only on a canoe trip would one say, "Sure, let's go swimming - lemme go put on my boots."
  
  
• Because our boots had been wet for a week, we tied them to the roof rack on Jessica's car for the ride home so they could dry out and hopefully not mildew. I guess it takes more than a roof rack's worth of soggy boots to get a second glance in downtown Ely.
  
  
  
• I was pleasantly surprised with the comfort afforded by a the Duluth pack with tumpline (head strap). Granted, I wasn't expecting it to be cushy, but it got the job done without permanently deforming my spine.
  
  
• I wish we had more time to spend in Ely after the trip. Next time, I want to check out the International Wolf Center, the North American Bear Center, the Dorothy Molter Museum, and eat at the Chocolate Moose Cafe. The Chocolate Moose is next door to the Piragis Northwoods Company store, a place where a boy and his credit card could get into a lot of trouble.
  
  
  
• Finally, hoisting a canoe over your head for a portage is awesome. The key is to grunt while you do it.

BWCA 2010: Day 5

Boundary Waters Adventure with Eric Z., Jessica H., and Kate S.
August 9-13, 2010

Day 5 - Back to Day 4

Thursday night was remarkably uncomfortable. The air was hot, humid, and dead calm - too hot to sleep. I also managed to make my bed on a set of rocks spaced at exactly the right intervals to render my ground pad completely useless. I didn't sleep well, but neither did Eric - I'm told that while I was asleep, I shifted far enough around the generously-sized tent to kick him repeatedly. Friday dawned cloudy and cooler, with a welcome breeze.

On our way out through the southeast arm of Wind Lake, we paddled past an area of storm damage from the Big Blowdown of July 4, 1999. This storm created an intense straight-line wind (up to 100 mph) called a derecho across a large area. According to the National Weather Service report, sixty people were injured by falling trees and other debris; twenty of those had to be evacuated by floatplane. Miraculously, no one was killed, but many portages were blocked, and people who were in the BWCA during the storm had considerable difficulty getting out.

Storm damage on Wind Lake

In fact, Kate was leading a group of high school girls on a BWCA trip when the storm hit. They didn't know the extent of the damage until later - of course, they had no way of knowing.

We made one last 175 rod portage from Wind Lake to Moose Lake. Powerboats are allowed on Moose, so to maximize our remaining wilderness time, we took a scenic detour around some islands away from the main channel. We noticed that vultures were circling nearby, but tried not to take that as an omen.

Portaging from Wind Lake to Moose Lake

We took out at the Moose Lake BWCA access (47.98893 N, 91.498210 W WGS84). We sat around for a while, waiting for our shuttle (Kate's mom), and eating our leftover gorp and Twizzlers. Yes, we carried Twizzlers around for five days. It was Jess and Kate's idea, and I'll defend their decision with all my strength.

One last portage up to the parking lot

With that, it was goodbye BWCA. We stopped for several hours at Kate's family friends' place on a lake just outside the wilderness area. These kind folks had a hot sauna ready for us; after several circuits of sweating in the sauna and jumping in the lake, I felt human again. We also had some fun goofing around the lake with a rowing shell (tippy as hell!), stand-up-paddle surfboard (weird at first, but fun!), and a bona fide lumberjack log-rolling competition log (really difficult to stand upon!). Then we returned the rental canoe to the outfitter, bought a six-pack of Dorothy Molter Root Beer, and headed to Kate's family's cabin for the night before we went home.

BWCA 2010: Day 4

Boundary Waters Adventure with Eric Z., Jessica H., and Kate S.
August 9-13, 2010

Day 4 - Back to Day 3 - On to Day 5

We got up around 5:30 and paddled over to a marsh on the northeast arm of Wind Lake, where we hoped to see a moose having breakfast. We didn't see any moose, but we did see this:

Sunrise over Wind Lake

My journal entry from Thursday, 8/12:

Camp 3 again: island in Wind Lake
48.01343 N, 91.53202 W (WGS84), 1370'

Wx: clear overnight, mostly sunny in morning, rained for ~20 minutes at 3:30ish, now (5pm) partly sunny. Hot and humid. Mosquitoes not bad, though many biting flies now.

We got up early (~5:30 am) and paddled over to the marsh on the northeast arm of Wind Lake in hopes of finding a moose. No luck. I read somewhere that moose numbers in northeast Minnesota are declining.

Had a big pancake breakfast after morning paddle, then lazed around camp for a while. Then paddled around and explored the southwest arm of Wind Lake. Saw a raven and an osprey.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) on Wind Lake

We had stopped in the middle of the southwest arm to filter water when tragedy struck: Eric's bandanna, which had been loosely wrapped around his neck, blew away and landed on the water just out of reach. This was no ordinary bandanna - it was printed with a map of the Grand Canyon, where Eric had found it while rafting the Colorado many years ago. Heavily laden with years of trail memories, it sank into the abyss before we could rescue it. The paddling gods give, and the paddling gods take away. Don't cry too hard - as we passed through Ely on our way home, Eric bought a bandanna with a map of the BWCA on it. Sooner or later, he'll lose it in the Grand Canyon, and the circle of life will continue.

Around this time, we started to notice biting flies. They seemed to especially like feet and ankles; I don't think one ever bit me above the knee. They followed us as we were paddling around the lake, seemingly hiding under the canoe seats and coming out to bite when the air was calm. Back in camp, where we tended to wear sandals, they bit our feet mercilessly. Fortunately, I discovered that my thick wool socks would defeat them. I chose to commit the fashion crime of wearing sandals with socks hiked up as far as they would go rather than submit to the painful bites.

My journal entry continues:

Went to a group of four unnamed islands just southwest of our camp. Had lunch and took group photos on one of the larger islands ("Lunch Island", 48.01242 N, -91.53674 W, WGS84), then landed on others briefly just for sake of completeness.

Returned to camp and fished. Tried 1/4 oz chartreuse Rooster Tail and a small floating Rapala with no luck. Switched to fly rod on a whim (not terribly hopeful after getting skunked at Camp 2). Got huge hit on chartreuse #4 popper, just as on Indiana Lake on Monday. Fish hit next to a mostly submerged log. Landed a nice smallmouth bass.

Smooches for a smallmouth

Later landed two smaller bass. Might try fishing again after dinner; might use floating Rapala on spinning rod to avoid backcast issues as it gets dark.

Mostly clear now with puffy clouds (5pm). Chance for more showers in early evening, then showers and storms likely after midnight. Took down hammock after brief shower around 3:30pm and didn't put it back up.

I spent a good while in the afternoon sitting around camp watching the aspen leaves dance in the wind and the ground squirrels quarreling with each other in the underbrush.


As dusk approached, I grabbed my spinning rod to and tried some other spots on our island where overhanging vegetation would have made fly casting frustrating. Since it was clear that the bass were hitting surface lures, I tied on my Scum Frog Tiny Toad Popper in anticipation of some explosive topwater bassin'. I got several absolutely savage strikes, but I could never set the hook quite right. The package sternly instructed me to wait two seconds before setting the hook, but I still went to bed without landing a fish on the Tiny Toad. Oh well; guess I just need more practice.

That night we were treated to a spectacular sunset.

On to Day 5.

BWCA 2010: Day 3

Boundary Waters Adventure with Eric Z., Jessica H., and Kate S.
August 9-13, 2010

Day 3 - Back to Day 2 - On to Day 4

My journal entry from Wednesday, 8/11:

Camp 3: island in Wind Lake
48.01343 N, 91.53202 W (WGS84), 1370'

Wx: rained approx 2-7 am last night (while we were at Camp 2 on Basswood Lake). Rain quit at breakfast time. A few sprinkles as we were paddling.Now (1pm) clouds with a few patches of blue. Sun out enough to dry some of our gear.

Drying the tent fly at Camp 3

Paddled back through Wind Bay (part of Basswood Lake) to portage to Wind Lake. 130 rod portage, not too bad (i.e., it was relatively flat). Nice beaver dam at east end of portage. Immediately began search for campsite. Wanted one on a point, to maximize breeze. First choice was C1662, occupied. Grabbed C1664; seems very nice. Broad flat area for tents. Deployed hammock. Will sleep in hammock if weather holds. Campsite has broad views to the east and south; beach area affords north view too - will look for aurora tonight, since solar activity is high and it might be visible. Broad view of sky, too - might look for Perseid meteors, since the shower is supposed to peak soon. Just relaxing around camp now. Will go explore lake later. Might go for night paddle, depending on weather. Plan to stay here two nights. Then one long portage to Moose Lake and exit on Friday.

The local fauna really started to cooperate on Day 3. An eagle frequented a snag across the channel from our camp and buzzed us several times. A family group of mergansers was hanging around, too. Loons were never far away, and one of them put on a show for us.

Mergansers (Mergus sp.) running across the water

Flapping display from a common loon (Gavia immer)

We also encountered some painted turtles (Chrysemys picta). One at first...

He seemed to say, "I'm a painted turtle - who the hell are you?"

...and then a full-blown turtle convention.

My personal beliefs require me to take pictures of turtles at every opportunity, so I was glad these shellbacks were cooperative.

Mr. Eagle, did you just get out of bed?

This unkempt-looking bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) sat in a snag across the channel from the turtle convention. It's worth mentioning that the "eagle" cry at the opening of The Colbert Report actually belongs to the red-tailed hawk. This is probably because eagle vocalizations tend to seem very...undignified.

Another eagle frequented the area around our camp, so we heard a lot of the squeaky calls. It's a lucky day when eagle calls start to feel almost like a nuisance.

I did some fishing around our camp. I tried the spinning rod first. I tried a 1/4-oz chartreuse Rooster Tail spinner first. I put a wire leader on in case the lure attracted a northern pike or other toothy fish. I firmly believe that a chartreuse Rooster Tail of appropriate size will catch anything that swims. However, I had no luck - I just got snagged on the rocks a lot. I eventually switched a small floating Rapala, mostly because I had one and floating lures are fun to fish. Still no luck.

Kate and Jess went for a sunset paddle around our island. I thought about taking a canoe out too, but the attraction of my hammock was too strong.

Jess and Kate go for a paddle on Wind Lake at sunset

Since the overnight weather forecast was clear, I slept in the hammock again. In the warm, still evening, I enjoyed the air circulation afforded by the hammock as much as the absence of rocks in my back. It was too warm for a sleeping bag - I just folded it up and used it as a pillow. I wrote in my journal and then stared into the sky. Kate and Jess did a crossword puzzle in their tent. I helped a little bit, yelling out answers from the hammock when I could. Eric was audibly snoring in the other tent long before the rest of us fell asleep.

Even six weeks after the summer solstice, it stayed light late. Only the brightest celestial objects were visible before 9:30, even though the moon was new. Twilight is delightfully long at these latitudes. I was hoping to catch some of the Perseid meteor shower, and maybe even the northern lights - due to high solar activity, the weather office in Duluth had reported that the aurora might be visible while we were on trail. I decided not to stay up super late waiting for full darkness to take effect, so I didn't get the full show. Still, I saw several meteors - two were very bright and seemed to light up the whole sky for an instant. The mesh on my bug net is fine enough to block out the view of dimmer stars, so I occasionally poked my head through the entry zipper to get a full view of the sky, including the Milky Way.

On to Day 4.

BWCA 2010: Day 2

Boundary Waters Adventure with Eric Z., Jessica H., and Kate S.
August 9-13, 2010

Day 2 - Back to Day 1 - On to Day 3

The plan for Day 2 was to find a campsite on or near the Wind Bay section of Basswood Lake. We could then explore the islands along the Canadian border. We broke camp on Indiana Lake, paused for a few minutes in the middle of the lake to filter water (filters don't need to be cleaned of sediment as often when water is drawn away from shore), and then landed to begin what we thought would be a short 15-rod (one rod is 16.5', so about 85 yards) portage to Wind Bay and Basswood Lake.

Our campsite on Indiana Lake

I expected to see Wind Bay just a few steps down the portage trail. Instead, I saw this:

This lovely terrain is called muskeg - and the path through it was a lot more than 15 rods long. My GPS trail shows that it was at least 35 rods. Normally, that would still be a delightfully short portage. However, without benefit of a good trail, it was not so much fun. No hills, though. My pet theory is that the map reflects an old stream configuration that has been changed by beavers. I can't prove it, though. For all I know, it was done by Elvis and ancient Egyptians.

My journal entry from Tuesday evening, August 10:

Camp 2 - Basswood Lake, east of Norway Island
48.03178 N, 91.57750 W (WGS84), 1317'
Wx: partly sunny, high 85ish. Showers & storms predicted for tonight.

Broke camp on Indiana Lake and got on the water around 9am. Very short paddle to portage to Wind Bay, part of Basswood Lake. Portage was supposed to be only 15 rods, but we think the map was out of date. Took long portage through muskeg instead. Nice and flat, though. Got on narrow back channel of Wind Bay. Very near the end of the portage, there was an active beaver dam. Paddled up to it and stood up in the bow of the canoe to peek over the dam. A beaver looked right back at me. It was swimming near the upstream side of the dam with its head out of the water. Didn't get a picture of the beaver, though. Black files were out and Eric wanted to move toward open water to avoid them. The pool behind the dam was a good 4' higher than Wind Bay.

Beaver dam on backwater of Wind Lake (48.01150 N, 91.58423 W)

Paddled through long, narrow passage to get to open part of Wind Bay. Lots of wild rice. Started looking for a campsite right away because of forecast chance of rain in afternoon. Tried island in Wind Bay and a few others - all occupied. Saw the first eagle of the trip on our way across Wind Bay.

We had camp set up by noon. Had lunch and then went exploring on Basswood. Paddled to Christmas Island and Cabin Island, just over the Canadian border. Saw an old ranger cabin on Cabin Island. We brought a flask of Scotch on our invasion of Canada, and we toasted the Her Majesty the Queen when we landed on Christmas Island.Took group photos using mini tripod. Also found a camp pot holder that somebody left behind - it's Kate's now.

The beachhead in our invasion of Canada (48.04501 N, 91.56791 W)

Our conquest of the Northland complete, we returned to camp to relax for a while before dinner. We then prepared our meal on the gravel beach, right near the water. This was nice because it was pretty and also kept food odors away from where we would sleep.

Paddled back from Canada and cooked dinner on the beach. Kate made stir-fry with red potatoes, onions, carrots, and "textured vegetable protein." Quite good. Dessert was brownies made in the frying pan. Tried fishing with bead-head diving fly and later a chartreuse popper, but no luck. Motorboats are allowed on Basswood - I wonder if the extra fishing pressure from motorized fishermen made a difference.

After dinner, we set to the nightly task of securing the food pack. After considerable effort, we strung a rope between two trees, only to find that, due to stretching of the rope, we couldn't raise the heavy food pack out of ursine reach. Jess said it first: "We've made a bear piñata."

We decided to follow Kate's preferred method of food storage when suitable trees are not available: wrapping the food pack in a tarp, tying pots and pans to it, and stashing it as far out of camp as possible. The idea is that any critters who disturb the food will knock the pans loose, scaring the nocturnal interloper and awakening us to keep 'em away. A bear-resistant food container would have been better, but oh well. Next time, I want to get the 60-liter airtight barrel from Recreational Barrel Works, which I learned about while trolling some BWCA message boards after the trip.

It started raining about 2 am. At one point it was raining hard enough that Eric got up to adjust the ground cloth. A little bit of water wicked through our tent floor near my feet, but not enough to really bother anyone. I think the rain quit around 7am. I was a little disappointed - I was really enjoyed the sound of the rain on the tent fly. Anyway, we were able to shake some of the water off our gear before we hit the trail again in the morning.

Rainy morning at Camp 2

The fun continued on Day 3.

BWCA 2010: Day 1

Boundary Waters Adventure with Eric Z., Jessica H., and Kate S.

August 9-13, 2010

Day 1 - on to Day 2

Let me begin by saying that the most hard-core, balls-out, badass mountain man I know is a five-foot-nothing female schoolteacher. More on that later. The trip started with an e-mail from Eric:

The downside to having an active girlfriend is that they want to do all sorts of 'crazy' activities. Generally this is fine, they leave for a week while biking around Lake Michigan. But sometimes they say "I want to do something together... with you..."

That being said, Jessica and her work buddy Kate want to do a Boundary Waters adventure in early August. So here are my (our) questions....

I'm not sure I would have sent such a message as this to a distribution list that included the lady in my life. Still, plans were made, Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness permits were arranged, and on Monday morning, I stood next to this mud puddle with Kate, who teaches with Jessica, who is dating Eric, whom I have known since we were four years old.

Inauspicious put-in on Wood Lake (47.96688 N, 91.59706 W)

My very first step toward loading the canoe led to my sinking ankle-deep into the mud. This was just as well, since it forced me to accept that trying to keep one's feet dry during a portage is futile. Yay wool socks, though. (It is best to wear boots and just get wet during portages rather than wear sandals or water shoes and risk twisting an ankle on uneven ground.)

Our fortunes improved considerably as we pushed and paddled away from the muddy put-in. Soon we were in the middle of Wood Lake, where we saw our first loons and beaver lodges. Before portaging to Hula Lake, we took a break on a rock which we named "Snack Island" to allow the party in front of us to complete their portage.

Snack Island (47.991130 N, 91.590820 W)

My journal entry from Monday evening, August 9:

Camp 1: Indiana Lake, north shore

48.01637 N, 91.59566 W (WGS84), 1332' elevation.

Wx: sunny, high 85ish, calm/slight breeze

Put in at Wood Lake access point on Fernberg Rd east of Ely. 180 rod portage from parking lot to put-in - no easy start for us. I portaged one of the canoes. Yoke pretty comfortable, though shoulder muscles sore from arms reaching forward to balance canoe. Later carried Duluth pack with tumpline head stream. Not too bad. Put-in very muddy. Sank ankle deep in mud right away. Good initiation to BWCA - must accept that feet will get wet at every portage. I'm wearing old work boots with wool socks. Pretty comfortable, but they hold water for a long time. Stopped for a snack on a small rock island [GPS: Snack Is] before portage to Hula Lake. 40 rod portage. I portaged a canoe again. Fairly brief paddle through Hula Lake. Very hard - steep and rocky with several hills - 150 rod portage from Hula to Indiana Lake. Opted to go to Indiana versus Hoist Bay on Basswood Lake to avoid motorboat traffic and in hopes of getting a campsite earlier in the day. We ended up racing another group to grab the only open site on Indiana. We got a head start and they conceded gracefully. After all, it was they who declared that the race was on in the first place.

The portage from Hula to Indiana was rough, so I rested for a while on the far end before going back for a second trip (we had to make every portage twice to get the two canoes and all our stuff). I sat on a rock and filtered some water from the lake to make myself useful while I waited to stop panting. As I was filtering, Kate came down the trail and said "Jump in the boat - we're going to race to grab the campsite." I did as I was told; Kate and I threw whatever we had at the far end of the portage into one canoe and paddled off, leaving the other canoe and the rest of the gear for Eric and Jess. I felt a little dirty grabbing the campsite out from under this other party, but they declared that the race was on.

Campsite nice. Good view of lake, nice beach of cobblestone-sized or slightly larger rocks. Arrived maybe 2pm. Had late lunch of cheese, summer sausage, and crackers, then went fishing. Wet-waded right off campsite and casted parallel to shore. Started with #8 chartreuse Miss Prissy popper (used 5-6 wt. fly road with weight-forward floating line). Caught small smallmouth bass next to a downed tree on very first cast. Followed shortly by nice bluegill. Switched to larger chartreuse popper to attract bigger fish. Caught another smallish smallie, then caught really nice smallie. Great fun on light tackle (4x tippet). Jess took several pictures.

The smallmouth bass (Micropterus dolomieu) is pretty much the greatest game fish in North America. Especially when they're biting. More generally, though, I'd have to say that the greatest game fish on whatever continent is the one that's currently being caught by me...which, at that time, was this fish. Yeah.

Around this time, Kate spotted some moose poop. Apparently moose are able to, um, produce both "pellets" and "pies." Mercifully, these were pellets. I hoped this would mean we might see a moose in the evening or morning, but it was not to be. Nonetheless, I dutifully submitted a moose sign report with GPS coordinates to the Moose in Minnesota project upon my return.

My journal entry continues:

Forgot to mention - hooked small smallie near downed tree; fish wrapped tippet around tree branches. While wading out to unwrap the line, saw big fish in water not more than 6' from my legs. Looked like big smallie. Took many pics with waterproof point-and-shoot camera. We'll see if any come out. Big fish was fearless - it just stared at me. Small fish had unhooked itself by the time I unwrapped the tippet.

This good-sized smallmouth bass looked at me with contempt.

Soon, it was time to think about dinner. Best to eat early and get everything cleaned up - and to secure the food bag against any nocturnal visitors - before dusk, when the bugs come out.

Per canoe trip tradition, had good meal at first camp. Jess & Kate made steak and red potatoes. Steak had been marinated and frozen the night before, then thawed in pack all day. Cooked on the Forest Service fire grate at the site. I started the fire with my Swedish firesteel and some lint. Made a few casts after dinner and caught a decent smallie.

Steak on the first night - it's all downhill from here.

Then it was time to bed down. Nothing to do after dusk except feed the mosquitoes.

Found two trees a good distance apart, so set up hammock with bug nut. Weather forecast clear overnight, so decided to try to sleep in hammock rather than in tent. Writing inside the hammock-bug fortress now. Observed very few bugs while paddling or portaging today; few in camp untili sunset. Darkness took full effect around 9pm, and bugs came out in force. I can hear swarms of mosquitoes outside my bug net.

Hammock with bug net deployed at Camp 1

Loon just called loudly. Kind of creepy in the dark. I'm a little nervous about being able to fall asleep with all the unfamiliar nighttime noises. Probably will put in earplugs to silence mosquitoes outside, anyway. 10pm now. I'm not super tired, surprisingly. Pretty seriously dark. Few stars visible due to tree cover and some clouds/haze/fog. Aside from skeeters and a few cicadas, the only noise is the occasional fish jumping. Too quiet. Mind plays tricks with every little noise. Hoping I can fall asleep and stay asleep through the night.

I fell asleep reasonably quickly. I woke up every few hours, but didn't have too much trouble falling asleep. Sleeping out in the hammock was a life-changing experience. I've never been so comfortable while camping. It was almost a religious experience. Amidst the wilderness sounds, I heard a "still, small voice" (1 Kings 19:12) - and the voice said, "Dude, nice hammock." AMEN.

Sadly, in the morning, I discovered a chink in my hammock armor: my left elbow had been pressed against the bug net during the night, and the skeeters were able to feast upon it. Oops. I made a note to use a stick to ensure that the bug net was fully spread away from my body next time. Still, I regret nothing.

My left elbow was the local Old Country Buffet for winged bloodsuckers.

Throughout the first day of the trip, the four of us had been jokingly keeping track of Mountain Man Points, which could be earned by fitting deeds such as mighty canoe portaging, brave acts of water filtering, and wrestling bears while eating beef jerky. Kate was quieter than the rest of us as we reveled in our wilderness communion and rapidly deteriorating odors. I don't know her well, so I figured she was just being shy. Well, it turns out that Kate, who is from St. Paul, Minnesota, spent many summers canoeing and camping on increasingly adventurous trips with the St. Paul YMCA. Eventually, in college, she canoed and portaged 500 miles across the Canadian territory of Nunavut, from Kasba Lake on the border with Manitoba, to Hudson Bay. When we heard that, we just gave up on keeping track of Mountain Man Points - no way we could compete with that. Even Eric's extensive canoe-camping and backpacking experience and Jessica's insane bike trips seem less impressive by comparison. Kate didn't rub it in our faces, though. That's not how she rolls.

And so Monday came and went. Though the trip was only a day old, I could say one thing with confidence: this was better than going to work.

Early evening on Indiana Lake

On to Day 2...

Badger vs. Wolverine

Forget "Pirates versus Ninjas." Let's talk about a long-anticipated duel of Pleistocene relicts¹. A civil war in the family Mustelidae. A clash of famously bad-tempered North Americans who lead bizarre triple lives as angry carnivores, official state mammals, and Big Ten mascots. Let's talk about badgers and wolverines.



My interest in badgers, particularly the American badger (Taxidea taxus), is well known to anyone who can stand to be in the same room as I am for more than fifteen minutes. On more than one occasion, I have identified myself to zookeepers as a "badger enthusiast." While Eurasian badgers (Meles meles) tend to be social, American badgers are infamously cranky. They can barely stand each other long enough to mate.

The wolverine (Gulo gulo) is one of those interesting critters that enjoys a circumpolar distribution - that is, they are found at similar latitudes throughout Eurasia and North America. While they superficially resemble bears, they are actually overgrown weasels. Wolverines are legendarily badass. Its scientific name means "glutton." They have been observed chasing grizzly bears away from a kill.

The badger and the wolverine are the represented in the state nickname, official state mammal, and university mascots of Wisconsin and Michigan, respectively. In both cases, the reason for the affinity has little to do with the animal itself. The name "badger" for a resident of Wisconsin comes from the early days of lead mining in the southern part of the state, when miners would spend the winter living inside their tunnels². The miners' fossorial habits led to their being known as "badgers." Michigan became known as the Wolverine State during the Toledo War³, a boundary dispute between Michigan and Ohio over the Maumee Valley. The Ohioans reacted to the Michiganders' attempt to usurp territory by proclaiming that "Michigan is as hungry for land as a wolverine is for flesh." While there are wild badgers in Wisconsin, there are very few records of wolverines in Michigan in historical times⁴, and these are believed to have wandered in from Canada or been released as exotic pets which have outgrown their welcomes.

Returning to the question at hand, the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of Natural History may have the answer: in the battle of badger versus wolverine, the winner is...the musk ox?


With that issue settled, I can finally sleep at night. Animal mounts above seen at the NMNH Hall of Mammals.

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¹ Relict refers to a "remnant of a formerly widespread species that persists in an isolated area (M-W)." For example, pika populations at low elevations in the Great Basin are relicts of a period of cooler climates.

² Miners in the lead districts of northern Illinois, by contrast, traveled up the rivers to the mines in the spring and back down the rivers in the fall, mirroring the migration of suckerfish. Illinois is sometimes known as "The Sucker State" as a result, though most Cheeseheads are content to call us "Illinoyances."

³ In the end, Ohio held on to Toledo and the Maumee Valley, and for some reason, Michigan got the Upper Peninsula as a consolation prize. No wonder the Yoopers feel ignored by the government in Lansing and occasionally talk of secession.

⁴ A wolverine was sighted in the "Thumb" of Lower Michigan in February 2004. It was tracked by a devoted high school science teacher for several years until it died of natural causes in March 2010. It is believed to have been a released exotic pet.

Marmots with hard hats!

I saw this at an exhibitor's booth at the International Society of Explosives Engineers conference last winter and it pretty much blew my mind. I shouldn't have been too surprised, though - it is well established by the work of many eminent rodent biologists that the yellow-bellied marmot (Marmota flaviventris) is very safety-conscious. Hard hats and steel-toe work boots are the rule around the burrow. These marmots score points with Lisa for practicing good aural hygiene, too, as they're wearing earplugs with at least a 29 dB noise-reduction rating. Shouldn't they be wearing eye protection, though? And what about dust masks? Oh well, Rodent OSHA will let them off the hook, I'm sure, on account of their fuzzy-wuzzy marmot tummies. Just don't do it again, guys. Seriously.

In case you were wondering, the marmots are hawking products to improve performance of "stemming," the inert material (crushed rock 'n' stuff) used to backfill blasting boreholes after the explosives have been installed at the bottom of the hole. The stemming prevents the pressure from the explosion from simply being vented out the borehole.

Triple-bacon pizza

Four years ago this week, Lisa and I honeymooned along Minnesota's North Shore.

We took a gondola (the kind that hangs from a cable, not the kind that's poled along by a singing Venetian) to the top of Moose Mountain, where we ate a triple-bacon pizza (bacon, Canadian bacon, and prosciutto) with a view of Lake Superior.


I seem to recall that it was Lisa's idea to get the triple bacon. Did I mention that I love that woman?

Coordinates: 47.65490°N, 90.72825°W (WGS84)

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Four More Years! Four More Years!

Our wedding date is easy to remember: August 20, 2006 was two days after the premiere of Samuel L. Jackson's magnum opus, Snakes on a Plane. Since four years have passed since Mr. Jackson declared he'd had enough with the scaly aviators, here are four things I love about my bride:

1. Smiles at brew pubs.

On our road trip to Arizona last year, we stopped for dinner at the Bricktown Brewery in Oklahoma City. In spite of a long day in the car, Lisa was smiling and looked nice. Her profile picture on Creepy Social Networking Site is a snapshot I took there while we were waiting for our food.

2. Kind to tiny toads; able to spot small lizards.

We saw this tiny toad on a path in a park near Lisa's parents' place in the Twin Cities. Lisa thought it was neat, and provided her dainty foot as a scale for this picture of the thimble-sized anuran. Likewise, when we visited White Sands National Monument in southern New Mexico last year, Lisa spotted this bleached earless lizard (Holbrookia maculata ruthveni) - a tiny white lizard on white sand - from tens of feet away. That's a quarter next to the lizard in the photo.

3. Crazy hair.

When Lisa was a teenager, one of the little neighbor girls told her, "You must have eaten all your bread crusts when you were little." Puzzled, Lisa asked how these were related. The girl responded, "My mom told me that if I ate my bread crusts, I would get curly hair like yours." I'm glad Lisa ate her bread crusts.

4. Smells nice.

Really, what more could one ask?