Good Neighbors

As the fall and winter seasons continue to approach here in Northern Minnesota, the Gunflint Trail becomes less and less dominated by tourists, campers, and canoeists, and more and more by the wildlife. The true calm of the wilderness has officially set in and the inhabitants of the woods are becoming more mobile as they prepare for the oncoming winter. This has been very obvious with the movements of our local wolfpack. Packs have very large territorial area and they patrol them regularly, meaning that we see our local pack almost on a weekly basis. I was driving down the trail only a few days ago and saw the alpha male of the pack and another female making their rounds across the landscape.

The staff here at camp have become quite familiar with the Alpha male because of his appearence and because of his demeanor. I personally have seen him at least four times, several times within feet of him. While most of the wolves in the pack are of the typical white and gray coloration, the Alpha is dark brown and black, making him very recognizable, bordering on mysterious and frightening. In addition, he is a good 15 to 20 pounds heavier than the other wolves in his pack. However, his most distinguising characteristic is his personality and character. Most of the pack is shy and are generally nervous around people, but the Alpha always makes a point to stop and make eye contact with virtually everything in his path, even if it is a moving vehicle. Essentially it is his job to be big, dark, and intimidating, and he is an expert at that job. His presence and bold personality make him a very dynamic character on the Gunflint, and my personal encounters with him have given me a very distinct respect for him.

These encounters and ponderings have lead me to think more about the "neighborhood" that I live in. Often times when we think of our neighbors we think of the people that live near us, or even the people around us on a communal, maybe even a global scale. Also, as we begin to know our neighbors better, we begin to know them much better, even to love them and care about their well being. Caring about our human neighbors is extremely key to living a full and godly life, but often times I feel like it is easy to ignore our natural neighbors in the process. Do we always greet or care about the old oak tree that you walk past everyday on the way to work? What about the pair of cardinals that visit the bird feeder everyday, or the clump of mushrooms that silently feast on the dead tree in the backyard? It may seem odd and almost crazy to think of nature in this way, but I think that for me it is key to gaining a better understanding of my context within the land and area that I live in and the relationships that I have with the things around me, whether they be the people that I dearly love, the wolves that I see patrolling the roadsides, or the pines, birches, and firs that I pass by everyday on my way to begin the work day. In the same way that human neighborhoods are full of differnet characters and personalities, our natural neighborhoods are full of dynamic and unique personalities as well, ones that we can greatly learn from if we are only willing to listen. If we strove to be good neighbors to not only our human neighbors, but all of our living neighbors, what kind of insight would we have then?

City Kids in the Woods

Wilderness Canoe Base was originally designed for city kids. In the fifties, the camp was built in order to give tough kids growing up in the rough part of Minneapolis a real taste of the wilderness and give them experiences that they might not be able to have on their own. Going into the wilderness, especially going into the Boundary Waters, gives kids a chance to reconnect with their truly wild spirits and the chance to connect with the truly wild spirit of God. That spirit was rekindled this weekend when a group of North Minneapolis inner city kids came up to the camp on a retreat this weekend. The atmosphere around the camp was absolutely electric with activity and fun!

The kids did almost everything that you can do at camp for a weekend. They canoed around on the lake, took many hikes, took pictures all over the islands, sat around the fireplace at night, and consumed huge amounts of hot cocoa and s'mores. They were completely worn out by the end of the weekend and it looked like they had a fantastic time. It was really a privilege to see this place really make an impression on them. Being away from the busyness and distraction of the inner city really gave them time to relax and have fun. It was also really special to see kids that have a high potential to be involved in drugs, alcohol, and gang violence, just have the chance to really be kids again and play hide and seek (I do not kid!), be freaked out by walking alone in the dark woods, and appreciate every little squirrel, frog, and loon. It is a kind of energy you don't see as often with suburban white kids who get to go camping every so often. I do not mean to critcize the suburban kids who come up here, their background being very similar to my own, but it is just especially neat to see kids who grow up in cities most of their lives experience the environment that I truly believe that we were created to live in. This weekend all I did was guide them on the lake, cook the food, and hang out with them, but they managed to pull me and the other staff into their community and make us one of the family. For that I feel truly blessed. Maybe we all need a little wildness in our lives, whether we live in log cabins or high rise apartment buildings.

Snowflake

It has been quite awhile since I did this! Working up at camp has taken up a lot of my time, but recently my surroundings have gotten my old writing juices flowing, especially since I get to live in such a beautiful place, so here I go.

This morning as I was paddling across the lake in the late morning I had the pleasure of seeing a snowflake. Not an actual, physical snowflake mind you, but rather a snow bunting, also known in the far North as a "snowflake." I was thrilled to see him because not only was he a beautiful bird, but it was also the first time I had ever seen one. A snow bunting sighting also means much more up here. It means that winter is not very far behind the coming of this little bird. Snow buntings are birds that breed in the far, far North, farther than Alaska, and thrive in harsh, cold climates. Every winter these small birds descend to the northern states for the winter, feasting on the things that would be in a deep freeze farther north. Seeing a snow bunting is yet another indicator of the seemingly rapid change of seasons.

All around us up here there have been other signs of the approaching winter. For the past three nights we have been experiencing very deep overnight frosts. This has also triggered the fall colors, making the surrounding area flaming yellow with changing birches, aspens, and tamaracks. It is quite a change in comparison to Norfolk, where I have spent my last four autumns, where I could expect to see temperatures in the 50's, not the 20's, and where I could expect to see migratory ducks descending from the northern parts of the states. All these things are beautiful and exciting in their own way, but it is certainly a change when compared to the soon to be frozen reaches of northern Minnesota.

All these transitions have lead me to think about the connection to the land that I have been establishing since I came up here to stay in late May. Working outside for months and months has really made a deep connection in my heart to this place and has immersed me in the beauty of the seasons as well as the beautiful setting around me. More and more I have been feeling more connected to nature and wilderness, feeling like it is a place where I belong rather than a place that I visit. I truly believe that, deep down, all humans are meant to live closer to the nature around them and it has been very refreshing to feel that connection as I paddle across the lake, listen to the wind in the trees and the thumping of grouse in the bushes, and as I spend hour after hour splitting our winter stockpile of wood. Perhaps I am finally beginning to form a deeper relationship with the beautiful framework of the wilderness around me, and also with it's mighty creator. The wooded, dense, and watery landscape of northern Minnesota is carving out a very special place in my heart, along with the idea and concept of wilderness itself, and I think that that relationship will be with me for years to come. All this from a small snow bunting, pecking at the ground near my beached canoe.