North Woods Critter Report for Monday

On our way back from Iron River this morning, a black bear went across Highway 139. Gary immediately made a right turn onto an side road and we watched the bear cross that road, too. Gary estimates him to be 150 lbs., and probably a second year bear, not yet old enough for breeding. I never have a camera ready in these situations, but I was pleased nonetheless. A summer without a bear is not worth having.

Back at Laura Lake, both loons are out fishing, which probably means the chicks have hatched out. For the past weeks, at least one loon has been on the nesting platform provided by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. By law, the forests belong to the National Forest Service but the waters belong to the State of Wisconsin.

We found out today that the Sturgeon Guard shirts we ordered in May are on the way. I'd been wondering about that since my check had not cleared. Now we will be properly clad whenever we stand over the banks of the Wolf River in the spring.

The belted kingfisher finally showed himself to me this evening. I'd heard his complaining whenever he missed his prey but never saw him until now.

We haven't seen the porcupine but tonight saw his work on the outhouse next to the boat landing. The door frames had been chewed off as tall as he could reach.

I warned campers at the Flats who had three dogs, two of whom were running loose, that they didn't want to have a run in with a porcupine. We saw them tonight and the dogs were still running loose. I hope they have the phone number of a local veterinarian.

Bridges, Parks, and Overeating

After my nap (a perk of senior citizens) it was still raining. Gary suggested we go to Stoney Ridge for supper. It was packed with a Father's Day crowd. As we came in, the family at the table next to us was praying over together. When that little ritual was over, they began to talk, swearing profusely, discussing f___ this and f___ that. I found it amusing. It let us off the hook, should we let go with a good curse. Gary remarked that even if they prayed, we got our order before they did!

I figured that the end of meal was the day's finale, but Gary had other plans. He drove us off in the other direction. He made a turn off Highway 8 and soon we were following the signs that led to Goodman Park, part of the Marinette County park system. It was a park I first was taken to by my grandparents, back in the days they had a cabin in the area. The park was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the Thirties. It was one of the great ideas that came out of the Roosevelt Administration. It gave jobs to thousands of young men who had nowhere else to turn. They created parks in every state of the union, even in Puerto Rico.

As we walked around Goodman Park we could mark all the log buildings that have stood the test of time. Though the wooden bridges occasionally have to be re-done, their stone bases are still there. The main hall overlooks the dramatic Strongs Falls. 

We checked out the campground which was empty. There is a dumping station which charges $5.00. The campsites were too close together for our liking.

Next we stopped at the smaller McClintock Park, again created by the CCC. Just off the parking lot we discovered a turtle laying her eggs. We took a photo and left her to carry on.

McClintock's bridges crisscrossed the Upper Peshtigo River.

Ferns were lush unlike the last time we visited. It would have made a pleasant walk but the mosquitoes had taken over plus the sun was setting.

I figured that was the end of our outing but no, Gary went off though more back roads. We saw deer and I was glad Gary's reaction times are still good, especially when a doe and a fawn appeared just around a bend. The very young fawn was startled and didn't know what to do. Mama immediately dove off the road, but the little one kept going back and forth on the road, confused. We patiently waited for it to make up its mind.

It wasn't until we reached Lakewood that I realized our next destination: the Shell station at Townsend, which has the best and biggest ice cream cones ever. I got a Mudslide and Gary took the magnificent Zanzibar Chocolate which is the chocolatiest chocolate ever.

We drove home in the dark and rain with me watching for deer, but it wasn't deer that caused him to stop abruptly, it was the balsam fir across the road. It left us just enough room to maneuver into the ditch to get around it. We are finding trees like that one here and there. They become so rain soaked they become top heavy and topple over. We thank our stars that we don't have to worry about forest fires like the one in Colorado.

Before we returned to our camper we checked the campground. Thirteen campsites were filled, seven of them at the Flats. Our section has returned to quiet after a weekend of dogs and a loud generator. With no one around, Gary went out in the rain to start our own generator to run the furnace for a while to get the dampness out...and to allow me to go on line to write my blog.

Then it was to bed for us, after a day well lived.

Lady Slippers and Swimming

Gary and I went down to wish the Gaulkes good-bye and to make sure they weren't trying to take that porcupine home in their RV.  Barbara told me that she had seen a pink lady's slipper on the walk to Gordon Lake.

If there was one pink lady's slipper at Gordon Lake I figured there would be more at the bog lake so I hiked over there.  Sure enough, there were about a dozen of them.

Yesterday it was yellow lady's slippers, today pink. We've found white ones in the UP before. Now my goal is to find a showy lady's slipper which are very rare.

My day would have been made with the lady's slipper but it got better.  The day turned warm and breezy.  Gary suggested that I might like to go swimming. The established swimming beach is at Gordon Lake but there is a tiny sandy beach on Laura Lake next to the the path that leads to the bog.  Gary loaded up his canoe with  a lawn chair, a small table, and a stool to rest my feet on. I took along my cell phone, a towel, a bottle of water, and another  book by Walter Mosley. Then he took me across the lake using his new trolling motor.  With the breeze so strong, it would have been way to difficult to paddle.

Once on the beach, I was in heaven. Behind me the forest, in front of me the water slap-slap-slapping against the shore.Behind me the warblers were singing.  The day was warm but the strong breeze kept mosquitoes away. The book held my interest until I got too warm, then I took a plunge into the lake. Once cooled off, it was back to the chair and my book.  I replenished the summer tan I got while gardening.

The clouds began to gather. I used the cell phone to call Gary who was paddling around at the other end of the lake.  He motored over, picked me and the gear up and we all went back to the campground just as the rain began.

So much more happened today but I will have to report on that tomorrow.

Orchids and Thunder

Years and years ago, when I was writing a weekly newspaper column, I wrote about the Good Shepherd swamp and its trail that I often walked. One spring, I reported on the first blooming, the three lobed hepatica, a lovely lavendar colored flower that appeared at only one spot along the trail. I described the flowers to my readers and my joy each year at finding them.

The day after the column appeared, I was back on the trail and found to my horror, that someone had picked every one of the flowers. Perhaps it was someone taking a child out to pick flowers. Perhaps it was some teenager who noticed them. No matter. It was the last time I ever saw the hepatica in the Good Shepherd swamp. I never wrote about wildflowers again with the exception of the marsh marigolds. There were so many, no one could pick all of them.

Today, I am writing about a nature area with beautiful flowers, but they are generally known to the public so I hope no one is tempted to go picking or even worse, digging them up and transplanting them.

The 1800 acres of water and forest of the Fumee Lake Natural Area are just off Highway 2 at the outskirts of Norway, Michigan. There are miles of hiking and biking trails rated easy to difficult. Canoeing is allowed with a portage between lakes. During the winter the trails are open for snow shoeing and cross country skiing.

Today, Gary and I returned there to see what orchids are blooming. We hiked the shorter trail around Little Fumee Lake, only a mile and a half on an easy road, but we found plenty to look at.

In that short period we saw rununculus (buttercups),columbine, beech peas, water irises, and goats beard. White flowers showed the promise of blackberries by the end of July.

The streams were full of bullhead lilies.

But what we had come to see were the multitude of yellow lady's slippers.

They were everywhere, but just one of the seventeen orchids found at Fumee Lake. If we had gone further, we likely would have found the more common pink lady's slippers, but we will see those at the Bog Lake by next week. A little later in the summer, Fumee will have the rarer showy lady's slipper.

Other orchids will show up at Fumee as the year progresses. I wish I had thought to include the place in Yesterday's Secrets, Tomorrow's Promises, my romance novel set in Norway.

Tonight we are snuggled in the trailer, waiting for a thunderstorm with multitude lightening strikes. As I told Barbara Gaulke, things that go wrong make for good blog posts. If we survive, I'll report on it tomorrow. 

Things to Write About

I've been writing this daily blog since 2010.  Folks ask if I ever run out of things to write.  So far, no. There is always something going on or something I've been thinking about.

Today, I returned to Laura Lake.  Gary had been busy while I was gone. My office now has a book shelf for my paperwork, journals and books.  This cleared the desk for my computer. The whole system is more workable. The wi fi signal is strong enough to reach in here so I can close the door and get busy.

I posted "Four Old Farts" at Black Coffee Fiction http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com before I left Seymour but when I arrived here at the campground I found that Betty had edited the copy I sent her and had sent me the corrections.With my new office system, it was easy enough to take out the errors and re-post.

The story came from some old timers Gary and I keep running into in the Upper Peninsula.  (When I say old timers, it only means that they are even older than we younger old timers.)  We've been observing these guys for over four years so when it came time to write the story.....it wrote itself in about an hour.

Other news from Laura Lake:  with school out and the weather improving, the campground is getting busy. So far eighteen of the forty-one campsites are filled.  There were five canoes and two kayaks on the lake this evening which is pretty darn busy. I hope they stay away from the loons' nest.

One visitor is certainly not welcome.  The Gaulkes on site 1 have been plagued by a porcupine.  He nestles under the end of their big RV, the end being their bedroom. Porcupines mutter to themselves, sounding almost human, which is unnerving in the middle of the night.  They can also be destructive.  He's been chewing on the door frames of the outhouses, also unnerving if one wants to use those facilities.

No one is trying to start a porcupine hunting season using dogs but on Wednesday night, the National Forest expert will be here to try to trap the porkie and move him to a better location.  Gary wants to stay and help so we will be here at the campground until Thursday. You can be sure I will available to take notes for my readers.

Run out of ideas?  Never.

----
At 8:00 pm, Gary and I walked over to Site 1.  The Gaulkes were not there, but Gary heard an unusual sound, and when we investigated, there was Porkie, gnawing on the frame of the outhouse.  Gary gave him a stern talking to saying "You're only going to get yourself in trouble", at which time Porkie went up a tree.

Yes, something is always going on.

Entitlements

One of the bugaboos of the right wing is entitlements.  All of the troubles, real or perceived, are laid on the door of too many government giveaways to those referred to as the 47% by Romney...or as he said, the takers. The trouble is that everyone I know has access to at least one of the government entitlements except they don't usually recognize them as such.

The farmers don't see the farm subsidies as entitlements.  They wouldn't survive without them.  Heat assistance?  Without it, the high cost of fuel would break those who sign on for it.  The older folks don't see social security as an entitlement, since they figure they've earned their monthly checks.  Medicare?  Again, not an entitlement.  An entitlement, it seems, is something somebody else gets and therefore doesn't deserve.

This morning, as I was waiting for my yearly Medicare physical, I got to thinking about the entitlements I've taken over the years.

In 1970, my husband left me and drove off with our only car.  He took all the credit cards and all the cash we had. I was in a trailer park in South Dakota with almost no food in the house. It was then that I had to go on food stamps.  It was only for a month in which I reorganized my life.  By then, I had a cheaper trailer and had started my teaching assistant job at the University of South Dakota.  I've never been on food stamps since. I've never even been to a food pantry.

The next time was in 1991.  The menopause from hell had hit me. Without getting too graphic, I was bleeding to the point that I could no longer go out telling stories (I would frighten small children)and I certainly couldn't look for a 40 hour a week job.  I was anemic almost to the point of fainting. One doctor, a feminist, told me it was a normal part of aging and accept it.  However, when I checked with my sisters, I realized it could go on for a year or two.  I needed surgery but the sparse insurance I had did not cover the pre-existing condition....of being a woman. I applied for Medicaid but found out I couldn't get it without going on welfare. The only other option I could think of was suicide.

I went on welfare, got Medicaid, found another doctor, and had the surgery. It turned out the tissue removed was pre-cancerous. I'd made the right decision. The following day I walked out of the hospital and a week later was off both welfare and Medicaid.

And that was it until I got Social Security and Medicare plus Senior Care for prescriptions.  Medicare paid for cataract surgery when I was 65 and Senior Care paid for the necessary eye drops.  Other than yearly physicals and mammograms, plus one colonoscopy, I've had no further use for Medicare or Senior Care though  I pay out about a hundred dollars each month.

When I consider all the years I've paid taxes and put money into these entitlement programs, I've never gotten as much out, nor do I expect to.  I am far too healthy.

My contributions over the years go to others who need the care. That is as it should be.  Yes, there are those who abuse the system, but that is no reason to take away from people in trouble.  I figure we should take care of those in need and get them back on their feet, so they in turn can help others.

They are entitled.

Irises

I had to come home from Laura Lake for tomorrow morning's yearly physical.  When I got here, this is what I found.

And this

And this

In the past few years, I've often been on tour when the iris bloom and have only seen photos of them others have taken.  I have about 12 varieties if not more.  

The columbines are in bloom, too

as are the poppies 

And for the first time in years, I get to enjoy them...at least for three days.  

Waste of Trees

Earlier this spring at a library book sale I bought books to take along on camping trips.  They were to remain in this camper for the summer. Because of the rainy days we've had over the past two weeks, I've been polishing off a book almost every day.  Until today.

I bought three books of a mystery series about a woman who creates crossword puzzles and solves murders, thinking it would be light reading. Light was right, in was banal drivel. I got as far as page 100 on the first book and threw it down. The question is whether I take the books to another library for another book sale or put them into recycling to be shredded.  The books were an awful waste of trees.

Today as I walked around the forest, I considered my leafy friends.

How many books aren't worth reading?  And these days, how many of them are self-published? As a self-published author, I count myself in that category.  How good are my books?

In the old vanity press days, self-published authors were required to order large numbers of five hundred books or more.  These usually wound up stored in garages until the author died.  The heirs finally took them to the dump.  The good news about self-published books these days is that they can be printed as needed.  I never order more than ten at a time. They aren't selling that fast but at least they go to people that appreciate them...I hope. Electronic books are even better, requiring no paper.

For the rest of this camping trip, I am sticking to e-books and leaving the trees alone.

To the Bog and Back

When a day is beautiful, you grab it and wring out every moment of it. That was the way it was today. The sun came out, the temperatures were moderate, and at least until afternoon, the mosquitoes gave up and let us be.

We sat in our lawn chairs to read and allowed the chipmunks to amuse us. We fed them peanuts. We fed them again. And again. At one point one of them was sitting next to me on the table expecting to be waited on. There are four of the little rascals, coming from four directions. When two of them arrive at the same time, chipmunk wars erupt with squeaking and chasing. Then we start all over.

At mid-morning, Gary and I got in the canoe. Throwing caution to the wind, Gary drove the canoe at 4 mph using the electric trolling motor. He says if he tinkered a bit he might get another 2 mph and then we might actually have a wake. As it is, it is the quietest way to travel, even quieter than paddling.

A juvenile eagle flew overhead, harassed by a crow.

Our destination was the far shore and the brief walk through the forest to Bog Lake.

The mountain bikers told me that when they first starting coming to Laura Lake campground 31 years ago, Bog Lake was really a bog. There is no outlet so snow and rain over the years caused it to rise up and fill in the valley. The shores are still sphagnum moss, a spongy mass Gary walks across.  I haven't the nerve. 

There we found pitcher plants blooming. The bog laurel was in flower.

.

When rain threatened in the afternoon, there was only one thing to do, drive to Crandon. I wanted to see the downtown which I knew had been spruced up since last I was there. While I was on the city council, I attended a workshop on improving small town business districts and the Crandon improvements were featured. Crandon got a grant to paint the buildings with the help of a designer. It was attractive compared to other places I'd seen.

Crandon also has an ice cream parlor with 25 flavors. That was worth stopping for.

When I took my final walk around this campground, I ran across the Bartelt family who had just arrived. Gary worked for Dan when he was at Menards. They were fighting mosquitoes same as us. Tonight we sit inside this camper enjoying screened in comfort.

Tomorrow should bring another fine day. We'll see.

Rain or Shine

With rain forecast, campers pulled up tent stakes and headed home early. By noon there were only eight occupied sites. Then it didn't rain.

There is no accurate way to know what weather will be in a rain forest. The Nicolet National Forest seems to have its own system. We can check the forecasts for Rhinelander, Pembine or Laona but they don't seem to have anything to do with Laura Lake. If we drive the five miles south to Highway 8, we can go from sun to thunderstorms and vice versa.

So we occupy ourselves according to the weather. When it is pleasant, we sit in lawn chairs at the fire pit, paddle around in the canoe or take walks.

When it rains, we come inside the camper. Gary takes the couch and I take the bed in my office which is now fitted out as a sort of day bed. He took the top bunk off and shoved it under the lower bed which makes it the right height for comfortable sitting. Each in our own spots, we read. I've just finished the fifth book of this trip and started on the sixth.

I'm reminded of a Twilight Zone episode with Burgess Meredith as a half blind bank clerk who likes nothing better than to hide in the bank vault with a good book. He comes out to everyone in town wiped out. He has food, a place to live but best of all, he has all the time in the world to read. He perches on the steps of the public library and picks up books but accidentally breaks his thick glasses.

I am in heaven when it rains and there is nothing else to do but pick up yet another book. As long as I know where my readers are....

Other than reading today, we took time to go up to camp site 41. There was a rowdy bunch there last night and they left a mess. For some reason, they spread toilet paper around. Gary picked it up and put it in the fire pit for burning.

My task today was appeasing the chipmunks. They come right up to the door in the morning demanding peanuts and I do my best to oblige. I've run through half of a three pound bag so far. On a stroll, I passed another camper. The fellow was seated on a lawn chair. Next to him on a boulder was a chippy staring at him. The guy said he had run out of peanuts and was currently resorting to peanut butter M&Ms. I commiserated. He'll probably go on a peanut run tomorrow.

Gary says it is all my fault. Everyone worries about bears, but when I leave here on Wednesday morning, he will be over run by chipmunks. “Death by Chippies” will be on his tombstone.

Just another day at Laura Lake.