Early May North Woods Call

     The early May edition of The North Woods Call is now available!

The gospel of Henry David

By Mike VanBuren
From the early May edition of The North Woods Call

   One of the first books that many student conservationists read is “Walden” by 19th Century American writer Henry David Thoreau.
   Published in 1854 and often coupled with the author’s essay “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience,” the book details Thoreau’s experiences over a period of two years in a tiny cabin he built on the shore of Walden Pond outside Concord, Massachusetts.  It is simultaneously a personal declaration of independence, social experiment, satire, voyage of spiritual discovery and manual for self-reliance.
     By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection, simple living and self-sufficiency.
     “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,” he wrote, “to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
     Thoreau, who once visited Mackinac Island, emphasized  the  importance of solitude, contemplation and closeness to nature in transcending what he saw as the often “desperate” existence that most people live.
     I,  too,  was  captivated  as  a young man by Thoreau’s advice to “simplify, simplify, simplify”  and have tried to exercise that philosophy during much of my life—sometimes successfully and ofttimes not.  I have even supplemented Thoreau’s thoughts with teachings from “Freedom of Simplicity,” a fine book by Christian writer Richard Foster.
     Generally, I have preferred walking, camping, bicycling and canoeing to other more costly and less environmentally friendly activities.  And I have typically tried to live below my means, stay out of debt and resist the temptation of too many possessions.
     Again, I haven’t always succeeded in this effort.  But neither did Thoreau.  During his time in the woods he reportedly often walked back into town for dinners with friends and certain other luxuries that society had to offer.
     Still, I can say without hesitation that I have felt the least desperate and the most joyful during those times when my life has had the fewest trappings.  Even today I am fascinated by the so-called “minimalist” movement toward simple living and smaller houses, though I don’t know if I’ll ever become that Spartan in my own existence.  Maybe so.
    It seems to me that simplicity should always be a central tenant of the conservation movement.  It already is, of course, for some who recognize the environmental, social and spiritual benefits of such a lifestyle.  But many who call themselves “conservationists” and “environmentalists,” seem to want to cling to the high life while complaining about corporate excess, environmental degradation, the ravages of fossil fuels and other things that go along with conspicuous consumption.
     How many people do we know in this modern age, for example, who have willfully given up family road trips, airline travel, large houses, heated swimming pools, computers, televisions, electric appliances and the plethora of other energy eating technologies that define modern life?
     Not many, it seems.  We desire all the conveniences without the often Faustian consequences.  But everything involves some kind of trade-off.
     Over the years, I have had the opportunity to visit Walden Pond on at least two occasions and contemplate Thoreau’s experiment in simple living.  The world has changed dramatically since those days and the sprawl of the Greater Boston area is quickly enveloping the once-pristine rural area.
     The pond itself remains preserved and managed by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but the surrounding area would be largely unrecognizable to 19th Century Concordites.
     Most people today mock the notion of simplicity, and the overwhelming trend is toward greater complexity in our lives, our laws and our aspirations.
     Maybe it’s time that we revisit “Walden” and reconsider the voracious monster of a culture that we have created over the last 159 years since it was written.
     What we are today and what we will become tomorrow depend on wise individual and collective decision making.  Will we continue on the wide path that leads the mass of men toward quiet desperation, or choose to take the narrow path to better living—one simple step at a time?

Conservatives and conservation

By Mike VanBuren
From the early April edition of The North Woods Call

    Rush Limbaugh calls me an “environmental wacko.”
    I’m one of those people who believe in saving energy, preserving wild areas, and treating the earth as a finite resource that should be handled with care.  I get alarmed when I hear about air pollution, “fracking,” food contamination, and open-pit strip mining in the Upper Peninsula.
    Rush seems to hate this. He likens me to a Nazi extremist. He says I don’t understand the world’s bounty, or the simple principles of supply and demand. Worse yet, he’s convinced I’m one of those “whining liberals” who use environmental scare-tactics to push big government.
    The funny thing is—in most areas of my life—I’m a fairly conservative guy.
     As an independent thinker, I believe that pure conservatism—based in a deep respect for the uniquely American ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and anchored in personal faith and responsibility—makes much more sense than the frequently deceptive, often ineffective and sometimes immoral policies espoused by the major political parties. Some may disagree, but I’m convinced that those organizations are populated largely by inflexible ideologues who only see the world through their own selfish ambitions and greed.
     As some Call readers have discovered, I have particular difficulty relating to modern “liberal” or so-called “progressive” thought.  It seems to run counter to how most people live their daily lives.  Nevertheless, I have often found myself walking hand-in-hand with left-leaning Democrats in battles to protect our natural heritage.
      I wonder why that is.
     Shouldn’t more conservatives be conservationists and more conservationists be conservatives?
     After all, there are few things more “conservative” than protecting resources for future generations.  And—language-wise at least—“conservatism” comes from the same root word as “conservation,” for crying out loud.
     I know there are some members of the so-called “political right”—whatever that is—who feel as I do.
     ConservAmerica, for example, is a national grassroots organization that claims to be “the environmental conscience of the Grand Old Party.” Members believe we can preserve our environment and boost our economy at the same time.  They want to resurrect the GOP’s once-strong conservation tradition and restore natural resource stewardship and sound environmental protection as part of the Republican vision for America.
     It seems like this would be something we could all support, but many Republican leaders—not to be confused with conservatives—don’t seem to be listening. They want to scrap laws that have cleaned up air and water, preserved natural areas, and prevented the extinction of native species.
    What’s that all about?
     Anybody with the smarts to get elected ought to be able to see that more—not less—needs to be done to defend the natural world that our children and grandchildren will inherit.
     While significant environmental progress has been made during the past few decades, we can still benefit from cleaner air, water, soil and food supplies. And reducing wasteful consumption today will likely bring greater benefits tomorrow, including better economic performance.
     You’d think more conservatives would be leading the way to safeguard our natural resources, rather than fighting against those liberals who are.  If ever there was a bipartisan issue, this is it.
     Few modern social concerns are as vital to our health, recreation and economic prosperity.  Human progress should not be measured solely on the basis of dollars and development, but also on what we have preserved and protected.
     Of course, there will always be disagreements as to how to best go about this work and far too often we’ve seen that professed concerns for the environment are just smokescreens for more sinister political agendas.
     In  an  ideal  world,  we  could simply educate people about environmental issues and trust them to do what’s right.  Isn’t that what personal responsibility in a free society is all about?
    Sadly, the reality is that individuals and corporations don’t always do what they should, and there’s  an ongoing need for some kind of regulation and enforcement action.
      But politicians and bureaucrats are not any more selfless and trustworthy than individuals and corporations, so there are all kinds of pitfalls on the path to good stewardship.
    Republican  Theodore  Roosevelt called conservation “a great moral issue, for it involves the patriotic duty of ensuring safety and continuance of the nation.”
     Roosevelt, of course, may have been the first “environmental wacko” to be elected President of the United States.  Maybe it’s time to put another one in the Oval Office—along with several others at all levels of government and industry.
     And  there’s  no  good  reason they couldn’t be conservative in thought and deed.

Adventures of "Tom" and "Huck"

By Mike VanBuren

From the late March edition of The North Woods Call

    The coming of spring always brings back memories of growing up in rural Michigan, when roaming the freshly awakened woods and wetlands was relatively safe and uninhibited.
    My friends and I were free to do most anything we wanted in the Great Outdoors, as long as it was legal and we were home by suppertime.

     It was a time—in our lives, at least—when it didn’t take government programs and environmental activists to make sure that “no child was left inside.”  That was the last place any self-respecting kid wanted to be.

   Richard Louv’s 2005 book, “Last Child In the Woods,” was decades away from being published and nobody in our orbit gave much thought as to where we would spend our days.  It was simply assumed that we would be outside wading streams, climbing trees and generally burning off the youthful energy that many of us wish we still had today.

    The  mother  of  one of  my friends often referred to her son and me as “Tom and Huck,” reminiscent of the adventurous Mark Twain characters, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.  We even tried to build rafts, as I recall, to float down tiny Spring Brook after the spring rains came.

     Those were the days when parents didn’t have to worry so much about their kids being kidnapped, murdered or otherwise harmed by criminal weirdos with ill-intent, although we were routinely warned to be wary of strangers before we headed out of the house.

    Truth be told, the entire neighborhood kept watchful eyes and ears on us, and news of any misdeeds or trouble was likely to reach home before we did.

    It was a time when we didn’t lock our houses—unless the family expected to be gone for several days—ignition keys were always left in the cars and our garage door was seldom closed, day or night, from April through October.

    And  nothing  ever  came  up missing.

     In short, it was a glorious era  to be growing up before the widespread lawlessness, violence and general disrespect for the rights of others metastacized and became the cancer on our society that it is today.  No child that I knew needed to be coddled and sheltered within the walls of a protected home or day-care facility.

     So we roamed pretty much at will—camping, fishing, hunting, swimming, biking, wrestling, playing ball, building forts, catching frogs and exploring our world—from the time the morning chores were done until the skies darkened, night fell and we dragged our weary bodies up the stairs to bed.

     The benefits were obvious.  We strengthened our muscles, tested our endurance and got more exercise in one day than most children addicted to television, computers and electronic games get in a month—or more.

     Even our most inactive moments (every kid needs to rest from time-to-time) still involved much social interaction with friends and neighbors—playing croquet on the front lawn, participating in marathon front porch games of  Risk, or plotting our next outdoor adventure.

     And the related discoveries were legion.

     We might huddle beneath a trestle of the CK&S Railroad and feel the earth shake as the trains passed overhead, hike a few miles down the tracks to buy candy at the small store on Riverview Drive, dig spent lead from the sandy hillsides at nearby firearm target ranges, or search for lost arrows in the weeds behind straw-bale targets at the local rod and gun club.

     Once, “Tom” and I found a pile of unopened mail along a side road.  It had been stolen from a local seed company and we thought we had found a great treasure—especially when we ripped into the envelopes and retrieved several dollars in illegitimate cash that our parents promptly made us give back.  That was OK, because we got something even better—a coveted ride in a patrol car when a sheriff’s deputy came to investigate the incident.  

     Sleeping out at night—under the stars or in a canvas pup tent—was a special summertime treat and we did it as often as possible.  Escaping the valley where we lived to ride our bicycles five miles into the village of Richland also fueled our wanderlust and growing desire for greater freedom.

     It’s sad to think back on those times and realize what so many of today’s children are missing.

     Thanks in part to Louv’s aforementioned book, many people are now realizing this disconnect and legislative efforts are being made to amend the 2001 Elementary and Secondary Education Act (No Child Left Behind Act) to include environmental education.  Several states have already passed their own bills aimed at re-aquainting children with nature.

    Such laws were largely unnecessary in our neighborhood when I was a child, but most things now seem to involve some kind of government action.  Even so—like almost everything else—the political debate has been polarizing.  Critics claim such legislation will be ineffective and is intended to spread a political agenda to children.  Supporters insist that there are countless benefits to including environmental education in elementary and secondary schools.

     With the deceitful and corrupt nature of  modern politics, who knows what to believe?

     One thing that’s clear, however, is that children learn much and benefit greatly from being in the out-of-doors.  And the best education comes when this experience is unencumbered by too many rules and regulations.

     It’s all about freedom—to explore, learn and absorb the rhythms of nature at one’s own pace.

      Maybe  if  we  just  turned  the television off and put down our myriad electronic gadgets, our children could better see and taste  the world around them.

    Only then will their own curiosity lead them outside into the lives of fresh-air adventure that we all need for a more healthy and balanced life.

Water wars

By Mike VanBuren
From the early March edition of The North Woods Call

   When I was a boy, my grandmother sent me a postcard from Arizona. It was covered with pictures of desert plants and animals. There were cacti, jackrabbits and rattlesnakes—each well adapted to the harsh climate.
   My grandmother was well adapted, too—having lived in Phoenix for many years. But her needs were different from the coyotes and roadrunners that populated the countryside. They'd learned to get by on less. She—like the rest of us—was dependent on generous supplies of clean, fresh water.
     The Southwest, you see, is a thirsty place. The sun is bright and hot. And the land is dry. It's enough to send a Gila monster out for a tall glass of cold sarsparilla. And it has made many misguided public servants cast greedy eyes on the Great Lakes.
     The reasons are simple. Water is critical to life, and to many social and economic activities. In some areas—such as Arizona—water is in short supply.
     The Great Lakes Basin contains about twenty percent of the freshwater on the surface of the earth. Why not just redistribute it so everyone has enough?
     Some profiteers—and politicians with dry tongues—like this idea.  But I don't.
     Water is already being pumped in and out of the Great Lakes on a relatively small scale. Fortunately, no major diversions are currently planned. But some public officials and environmental leaders say it's just a matter of time.
     The population is expanding in many parts of the country where water is scarce. Recent census results show that some of the fastest-growing states—Arizona, California, Nevada and Texas—are also among those most in need of water.
    The census also shows that those states will gain seats in Congress, while the Great Lakes region loses seats. That means that it could be harder to win a congressional vote to restrict the sale of Great Lakes water.
     Siphoning lake water makes perfect sense to those who don't know—or care—about ecosystems. But scientists say such activity could harm plants and animals. It could upset the balance of nature, lower groundwater levels, reduce water quality, and even impact the climate.
     And what happens if you have to shut the spigot off for some reason? Who's going to tell the folks in Sun City that the well is dry?
     My home state of Michigan is almost entirely within the Great Lakes basin. We have everything to lose and very little to gain if water is taken. Our economy is tied to shipping, fishing, agriculture, recreation and tourism. These activities depend on the Great Lakes being healthy and vibrant.
     That's why we all need to conserve water and develop strong policies to prevent raids on the resource.
     Now, I love Arizona and I'm pleased my grandmother could live there. But if she had wanted to drink from the Great Lakes, she probably should have moved back to Michigan.

           *           *           *

    This column originally appeared as a commentary on National Public Radio’s Living on Earth program and on Michigan Public Radio.

Big Elk: Indian herbalist

By Mike VanBuren
From the late February edition of The North Woods Call

    When Herbert Gleason Mingo was born on February 22, 1851, Millard Fillmore was president of the United States and Abraham Lincoln was still a prairie lawyer nine years from the White House.
     It was the year that Yosemite Valley was discovered in California, Herman Melville published his classic novel “Moby Dick” and abolitionist Sojourner Truth addressed the first Black Women’s Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio.
     By the time Mingo died on February 25, 1957—at the enviable age of 106—automobiles and airplanes were in widespread use, America was rushing headlong into the space age, and the mighty  Mackinac Bridge would soon make Michigan’s Upper Peninsula more easily accessible to hunters, fishermen and tourists.
    Better known as Big Elk, Mingo was a Native American medicine man—a skilled herbalist whose extensive knowledge  was based in years of hand-me-down mentoring from tribal elders, and an expert eye for wild plants and potions that were proven cures for human ailments.
     I have vague memories of Big Elk—perhaps because I may have seen him once as a small child, but more likely from family stories about his legendary powers as a traditional healer.
     I have clearer memories of visiting his home south of Stanwood with my parents and sister in the years following his death, and talking to Mrs. Arnold—Big Elk’s longtime assistant, understudy and housekeeper—who at the time was still dispensing herbs to legions of loyal customers who came to her door.
     On one such occasion, Mrs. Arnold was angry with the medicine man because, she said, he had appeared to her when she visited his grave at the White Cloud Cemetery and told her there was no reason for her to do so.
     “I’ll never go back,” she said.
     Our family became acquainted with Big Elk when my great-grandfather, Phillip Spalla—a Sicilian immigrant with asthma who used to spend the annual pollen season picking fruit on farms in the Traverse City area—learned of the herbal healer and sought help with his breathing problems.  Spalla was so satisfied with the results that he began referring friends and relatives to Big Elk.
   According to my father, my grandmother was once so deathly ill with an unknown malady that  medical doctors had given up on fixing the problem.  Spalla and other family members wrapped her in a blanket, put her in the back seat of a Model A Ford and hauled her to northern Michigan.  There Big Elk brewed a concoction of herbs and had her drink the aromatic liquid as hot as she could stand it.  A few hours later—after napping and sweating out the illness—she was feeling well enough to drive part-way home.
     Big Elk liked my great-grandfather and other family members, and sometimes would cook up several of the large catfish that he raised in a small pond behind his house on Mecosta County’s 177th Avenue along the old Pennsylvania Railroad tracks.
     He was reportedly a soft-spoken and friendly man of relatively few words, who stood tall and straight, even as an old man.  I remember an over-sized wooden chair at his home that seemed—to a small child, at least—to have been built for a giant.
     Even as he neared his 101st birthday, Big Elk was “surprisingly agile, hears remarkably well, reads without glasses and retains his own teeth,” according to a February 20, 1952, story in the Big Rapids Pioneer newspaper.
     He told the reporter that he expected to live significantly longer, thanks to “the strength, faith and trust sent to him from his friends in various parts of the world, consumption of his own herbs and faith in the Great Spirit God.”
    Big Elk knew the land on which he lived and the medicinal quality of the plants he found there. He gathered them in the woods and fields surrounding his house, then dried, milled and packaged them in another small building next door.  His office was usually closed on Mondays while he searched for the herbs.
     Today, the beginnings of a residential housing development have appeared in the nearby woodland  where the medicine man found his plants.  And Morley-Stanwood High School and football stadium occupy the property just across the railroad tracks from the two-story clapboard house where Big Elk lived for the last 27 years of his long and storied life.
     Born in Mashpee, Massachusetts—the son of a Pequot chief—Big Elk was already nearly 80-years-old when he settled in Mecosta County.  Prior to that, he had reportedly traveled over most of the American continent, as well as portions of Siberia, Australia, China, Japan, Africa and the South Pacific islands.
  As a young man, he was a courier from Fort Simcoe, Washington, traveling to Wanatchee, the Powder River basin, Okanagan in British Columbia, and Penderilla—a route of about 700 miles.  It was a six-week trip that he usually made on horseback over Indian trails through wild and hostile country, requiring significant physical strength, endurance and courage.
     There is little else I know about Big Elk—or his life and times—except that his house still sits at the dead-end of 177th Avenue between Morley and Stanwood, along what is now the White Pine Trail Linear State Park.  Another family lives there now and I wonder whether they are aware of the rich legacy of herbal medicine that their home represents.
     It’s a fine history of a memorable man—connected in a small way to my own family’s story.
    I think there’s still much to be learned from Herbert Mingo, as we journey through life and seek to heal our own bodies and souls.

Early March edition

Hot off the press!  The early March issue (Vol. 60, No. 7) of The North Woods Call goes in the mail March 6, 2013.  (electronic subscribers have already received their copies).  See stories about Great Lakes water levels and dredging, the continuing wolf-hunting debate in Michigan, "Cops in the North Woods" (conservation officers), and much more.  Subscribe now and don't miss a single issue!