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North Shore Weekend

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  • Saturday 7-10am
Genre: 
Variety
Host CJ Heithoff brings you this Saturday morning show, created at the request of WTIP listeners.  North Shore Weekend features three hours of community information, features, interviews, and music. It's truly a great way to start your weekend on the North Shore. Arts, cultural and history features on WTIP’s North Shore Weekend are made possible with funding from the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund.

 

 


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Magnetic North - February 7, 2018

Magnetic North 2/6/18
Combing Out
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North where the first real proof of winter’s coming demise showed itself this week on the tips of my big cashmere goat’s horns. Bosco, a striking cafe latte colored charmer, sported long wisps of cashmere fleece on both of his horns, proof that he and his three lady friends have begun to shed their winter coats. And, like any creature with excess hair, goats itch and scratch that itch with their horns. 
 
I feel bad for dehorned goats. Most dairy goats are, soon after birth, and so have to find a tree or fence post to scratch on.  So why do people dehorned them? Well, some say it is to protect them from each other, or protect us from them. The argument against is that, first off, it hurts to have a red hot iron held to the top of your head.  Duh! And if that isn’t enough for you, goats the blood vessels in goats horns help regulate body temperature in hot weather. And then there is the backscratching thing.
 
That said, one might assume that getting all that extra itching fuzz combed off would be something a goat would love. One would be wrong. None of my current flock, except for Bosco, enjoys being combed out, but I love to do it, and over time I’ve learned a thing or two about getting the job done with minimal stress to the goat and maximum fun for me.
 
First off, I have to catch them. Time was, I spent hours chasing the identified victim around the barn and corral, often sending a volley of invectives into the winter night as I careened around feed pans or trees. Once I got so fed up with a big male named Bubba, who continually escaped the barn into the frigid night, I yelled at him at the top of my lungs, ”Get in there you old “blanket-y-blank” or I’ll shoot you!” Only to have a neighbor call Paul on the phone to ask if he was “alright.” 
 
Since then I have learned that a bribe will get me whatever I desire. Turns out that goats dream of cracked corn, raisins and a bucket of warm water laced with molasses. The only trouble here is that appearing with such a treat bonanza puts me smack in the middle of a goat vortex. So I’ve learned to first rope one at a time, leading all who are not to be combed that day into the garage to wait their turn.
 
When at last only one goat is left outside, I tether him or her to the sturdy corner post of my woodshed and arrange myself on a chair, blocking the critter with the shed on one side and me on the other. Depending on the goat’s mood, the wiggling and bucking finally quits and I can pull my metal comb through her fleece without a fuss. First on the chest, where the softest fiber grows. Then around the neck and over the back and sides. This can take a while, sometimes hours, but time flies by as I see the buildup of  finely crimped cashmere on the comb and my shopping bag filling with clouds of fluff.
 
When each goat has had its spa day, combing and hoof trimming as well as a yearly tetanus shot, I’ll have at least six grocery bags full of cashmere, which I send off to a mill in Wisconsin to be washed and combed into balls about the size of a cantaloupe. If I liked to spin, which I have no patience for, I would feed strands of this ball into a wheel to make yarn. Or I could use it to do needle felting. But I am a knitter and love to use my fiber, from both the goats and my angora rabbits, to make ridiculously warm mittens. I learned a technique called thrumming a few years ago. It‘s a New England invention where you pull off a length of raw fiber, roll it between your palms, then knit the fat little roll into your mitten The result is that the inside of the mitten is packed with loose fiber, soft and warm and virtually water proof. For any of us who have to spend time behind a snow blower, that means a lot.
 
Admittedly, there have been a few comb outs that were, let’s say, less idyllic than they were near death experiences. Once, when I inadvertently cornered a very nervous goat named Nimbus in the barn after combing out another goat, I dropped something and bent over at the waist to pick up the fallen object. I was facing Nimbus, so I guess he thought I was about to make a move on him and he made a break for it, right through my legs! One second I was standing in straw and the next I was astride a terrified goat, riding him backwards through the barn and out into the snowy night of the corral. Neither of us was hurt, but the whole thing did nothing for our future relationship. Some years later though, Nimbus came right up to me as I was doling out feed for his stable mates. It was the first and only time he let me pet him. I figure it was his way of saying no hard feelings and goodbye, because the next morning I found him snuggled down in the hay, at peace at last.
 
For all the work, some heartache, and countless offenses such as debarking three apple trees, consuming rose bushes and any other edible plant they like, in the main, my experiences with goats has been worth every minute. And it is not just about the cashmere. My devotion to my goats is something that I often struggling to explain. When someone asks questions like, “how much fleece do you get?” or “exactly how long does it take you to comb them out?” or “does the fiber pay for their feed?” I am close to being struck dumb. It’s not about numbers, hours, pounds or dollars, so I usually just say, “I don’t really know, I just like goats.”
 
People either get this answer or they don’t. And if they don’t, I have only this to say to them.
Too darned Baaaaaaahed!
 
 
For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs-Anderson with Magnetic North.

   

 
 

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Northern Sky: Feb 3 - 16, 2018

Northern Sky  by  Deane Morrison 
Feb. 3-16 2018
 
As we approach the middle of February, the moon spends more and more time in the morning sky, and that's good for everybody who would rather see stars in the evening.
 
This is the best time of year to enjoy all the bright winter constellations I've been talking about. If you go out an hour after sunset, you'll see them in the southeast to south. Sirius is the brightest star of all, and it's also the lowest of the bright winter stars. Sirius is called the Dog Star because it dominates Canis Major, the larger of Orion's hunting dogs. In ancient times, people thought that during the summer, when Sirius appears nearer the sun in the sky, its heat combined with the sun's heat to produce the hottest days of the year, which were dubbed the dog days. Of course, Sirius has nothing to do with it, but when looking at it against a dark winter sky, it's easy to see how people could think that.
 
Sirius is also part of two well-known geometric arrangements of stars. One is the Winter Triangle. Besides Sirius, the stars in the triangle are Procyon, which is above and a little east of Sirius, and reddish Betelgeuse, which is a little west of Procyon. Then there's the Winter Hexagon. Again starting with Sirius, move around clockwise to Procyon, which is in Canis Minor, the little dog; then Pollux, the brighter Gemini twin; Capella, in Bootes the herdsman--this is the highest star in the hexagon; then Aldebaran, the eye of Taurus, the bull; and finally Rigel, in Orion.
 
In the morning sky, the planet show continues. The planets and neighboring stars are moving out of the southeast and into the south now. All three morning planets are rather low, but the highest, brightest and most western one is Jupiter. Moving to the left, or east, the constellation Scorpius has Mars, and below Mars is the gigantic red star Antares, the heart of the scorpion. The bright light to the lower left of Mars and Antares is Saturn. At this point, Mars isn’t especially bright, because it’s about 143 million miles away. But when Earth catches up to it this summer, it’ll be almost four times closer—just 36 million miles away. And pretty darn bright.
 
The moon wanes away to the new phase on February 15th, and on its way it visits the morning planets. Between the 7th and 8th it sweeps by Jupiter. Between the 8th and 9th, it passes Mars. On the 9th, the moon, Mars and Antares will make a nice trio of objects. On the 11th, the moon will be right above Saturn, and Saturn will be right above the lid of the Teapot of Sagittarius. On the 12th, the crescent moon will be sitting in the curved line of stars known as the Teaspoon, which hangs above the handle of the Teapot. On the 13th, the moon will be a lovely thin crescent. On the 16th, a young moon of the next cycle appears in the west, in the sun's afterglow. You'll have to look about half an hour after sunset to see it, and you may catch Venus to the lower right of the moon. This month, Venus is just starting a climb into the evening sky.
 
Also in the evening, look for the pale and elusive zodiacal light in the west as soon as the sky gets dark. The zodiacal light appears as a broad finger, or cone, of light extending up along the sun's path. It's caused by sunlight reflecting off dust in the plane of the solar system. You need dark skies to see it, and if you do, count yourself among the fortunate few.
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Wildersmith on the Gunflint - February 2, 2018

Wildersmith on the Gunflint     by     Fred Smith                     February 2, 2018    

Gunflint territory advances to month two with little fanfare from the atmosphere. We continue on the dry side, logging another week of scant to almost no new snow.  
                                                  

During the same segment more seasonal temperatures have returned including some below zero times, so the area hasn’t seen the remaining snow pack diminished much other than through evaporation.                                                                                                                                                                       

The colder conditions returned just in time to serve the canines pulling through the John Beargrease Marathon with more tolerable temps than were the order of a week ago (those dogs love below zero working conditions).                                                                                                                                                                                  

It was a busy time in the mid-Trail neighborhood as the mid-distance race saw its first finisher in the wee hours of last Monday morning.  While in the Marathon event, the leader swooshed through the Gunflint area and was at the Grand Portage layover by early afternoon on Monday.  
                                                                                                                                                       

What a great re-enactment for the namesake musher and his duties serving pioneers of yester-year along the Northshore. Congrats and thanks to all whom made this 34th historic celebration come to life.                                                                                                                                                                                   

As I mentioned last week, another popular winter event hits the Trail this weekend. Saturday the Ridge Riders Club puts on their traditional power sledding “fun run.” Area folks should be on the look-out for a colossal number of snowmobiles howling through the woods. Registrations begin at 9:00 am, at either the Ridge Riders building on Devil Track or at Hungry Jack Lodge up the Trail, with the day ending at the Groomers Building around 7:00pm.  Wishing all a good ride, everyone be safe.                                                                                                                                                                   

Activity in the “wild neighborhood” along the Mile O Pine has been busy as usual. Recently a brief fracas occurred at the Wildersmith feed trough as two pine martens squared off over munching rights. The scuffle was short lived as both rolled around in a tangle of legs, tails and fur.  None the worse for wear, neither appeared to have inflicted any hurts on the other, and they scampered off. One apparently established rights for the afternoon as it returned later not to be bothered again.                                                                                                                                                                  

Another of the visiting martens appears to have not been so lucky in previous survival episodes. This one was observed to have only one eye. How this injury occurred is unknown, but the wound seemed to be healed and the critter had adjusted to the handicap by acting no different than any other of its’ kin.                                                                                                                                        

Our avian world is a blur of fluttering wings. In addition to the regular, chickadees, nuthatches and blue jays, we are being inundated with daily flocks of pine grosbeaks and red pols. An interesting thing about these two species is their apparent compatibility at the feed tray. Whereas the jays and the others come and go independently, the grosbeaks line the perimeter of the tray while the red pols feast simultaneously on the unit screen inside them.                                                                 

One more winged critter has found the morsels here to be inviting. I’m talking about a hairy woodpecker. We don’t often have one visit with regularity, but this one has found Wildersmith to be of its liking with menu offerings beyond just insects.                                                                                                                                           

Speaking of woodpeckers, some members of this Picidae family are in the process of adding a new real-estate development along the Mile O Pine. I’ve been watching construction all winter on a deceased Aspen.                                                                                                                                

The project started as a fast food eatery, specializing in gourmet bugs for a pileated wood pecking family. Now out of the food business, it’s being converted into multi-unit residential quarters that will no doubt provide housing opportunities for any number of treehouse dwellers. Nearly completed, a digital can be seen with my Wildersmith website posting at WTIP.org.                                                                                                                                                               

For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, with fauna and flora marvels always just on the brink!         
 

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Superior National Forest Update - February 2, 2018

Superior National Forest Update – February 2, 2018.

Hi.  I’m Tom McCann, resource information specialist, with this week’s National Forest Update, a round-up of everything that might affect your visit to the Superior during the next two weeks. 

February 2nd is, of course, Groundhog Day.  Up here in the north woods, the chances of seeing a groundhog, let alone his shadow, on February 2nd, are pretty remote.  Groundhogs are ground dwelling relatives of squirrels, and have an extremely large range stretching from Alaska all the way down to northern Alabama.  They aren’t terribly common in northern Minnesota compared to other parts of the state.  This isn’t because of our weather, it is because in many places the soil here is too shallow to be able to dig a nice tunnel system.   A true hibernator, a groundhog’s burrow has get below the frost line so the animal won’t freeze during the winter months while asleep.  Their burrows are usually a single long tunnel, up to 45 feet long, with a main entrance on one end, and an emergency exit on the other.  There are short side galleries off the main tunnel for sleeping and food storage.  This time of year, you’ll find the groundhog curled up in a hibernation chamber with a slowed heart rate and a body temperature equal to that of the surrounding environment.  It’s been found that hibernators usually rouse a few times during the winter, but sometimes only to the point of normal sleep.  One current theory is that they actually need to do this in order to dream.  Occasionally, a groundhog will rouse enough to eat and possibly poke their nose out of the burrow in midwinter, but I don’t think they really care about their shadow at all.

If you poke your nose out of your warm house and head out into the woods, you’ll find that there are no active timber sales on the Tofte District right now.  On the Gunflint logging trucks are only expected on the Greenwood Road, Firebox Road (dual-use snowmobile trail), Greenwood Lake Boat Access Road, South Brule Road, Lima Grade, and Forest Road 152C off the Lima Grade.  Be particularly cautious on the Firebox Road and 152C because these routes are also used as snowmobile trails.

If it is too cold to go out though, you might be spending some time planning for next summer.  You are now able to make reservations for summer time Boundary Waters entry permits online at Recreation.gov.  If the Boundary Waters isn’t for you, you can also currently make summer reservations for many of the National Forest campgrounds on the same website. 

Speaking of websites, we’ve added a link on our Special Places page to an interactive map of the North Shore Scenic Drive.  We may drive Highway 61 daily, but this map gives others a great look at our North Shore.  Check it out, and send it off to people living in other places so they will be jealous.  Just don’t mention the subzero weather we’re having right now. 

That cold weather does make for excellent star gazing at night.  Cold air is usually more stable than warm air, and visibility is great for celestial objects.  The recent lunar eclipse on the morning of January 31st was a beautiful event that hopefully a lot of people were able to see.  If you were up before dawn to see that, you might also have noticed that Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars are all in the eastern sky before sun up.  It’s a great time to look for these planets if you walk the dog in the morning.

Whether walking the dog, driving Highway 61, or heading into the woods, enjoy the Forest.  Until next time, this has been Tom McCann with the National Forest Update.
 

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Wildersmith on the Gunflint - January 26, 2018

Wildersmith on the Gunflint     by     Fred Smith   -           January 26, 2018 
   

With January fading fast, a “blue moon” over the northland in the coming days provides a second act of the lunar Ojibwe “great spirit.” The interesting thing about such a first month celestial double finds there will be no “big cheese” happening in February. Guess “ground hog day” will have to suffice as the big affair in the universe for month two.                                                       

Big changes have taken over in the territory as frigidity has moved on in favor of a border country thaw. Three days of thirties above has squashed the snow pack.                                          

So we’ll be starting over to recapture what was a spectacular winter landscape. This sudden collapse couldn’t have come at a worse time with several snow time events on the docket for the next couple weeks. And as one has come to expect, another weather service snow maker for the area missed its Gunflint mark earlier this week.                                                                                              
A couple events highlight this weekend in the Arrowhead and up the Trail. The 34th running of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon hits the Trail Sunday from Two Harbors. The four hundred mile trek brings it into Gunflint territory sometime late Monday into early Tuesday as it hits the Trail Center check-point before running to the mid-race turn around at Gunflint Lake. Trail Center is also the finish place for the “mid-distance class.” So this mid-trail area will be bustling with canine activity.                                                                                                                             

Many Beargrease Race related events get under way on Friday and extend through the races conclusion in Duluth on Wednesday. Check them out on the Beargrease 2018 website.                                  

Meanwhile, sledding of a noisier and more powerful intensity takes place this weekend too. The Cook County Ridge Riders Snow Mobile Club is sponsoring their annual drag races. The event which is held on Devil Track Lake for all classes of sleds, takes place Saturday, beginning at 11:00am. For registration details and more information, contact race headquarters at the CCRRSMC groomer shed, or Skyport Lodge, or check Ridge Riders on Facebook.                                                                                                                                                                           

Then next weekend, February 3rd, the same Club holds its’ annual sledding “Fun Run.” Registrations take place at the Club’s groomer shed beginning at 9:00 am, or if one is starting from an up the Trail location registering can be done at Hungry Jack Lodge.                                                   

A full day of touring the area requires stops to check-in and get stamped at Skyport Lodge; Hungry Jack Lodge; Trail Center Restaurant; Poplar Haus Restaurant; Gunflint Lodge; Gunflint Pines Resort Lodge; and the Groomer Shed .The event will culminate with food, music, a raffle and prizes beginning at 7:00 pm back at the Club’s shed. Anyone can take part and all are welcome.                                                                                                                                                                        

Let’s hope the snow holds and better yet, a new dose blesses these swell north land events.                                                                                                                                                                         

Sad news from “moose-dom” was reported last week when one of our dwindling herd was struck by two different vehicles in unusual circumstances. The incident happened between Loon Lake Rd. and Tucker Lake Road. There were no human injuries, but considerable damage to the second vehicle involved in addition to the moose fatality.                                                                                                                                                         

Sometimes it’s just impossible to avoid the north woods icons when they come out of nowhere, particularly on slippery winter roads after dark. Nevertheless, losing one of these treasured members of the “wild neighborhood” is disheartening.                                                                    
My list of outdoor winter chores included the burning of nine brush piles the likes of which came from winter blowdowns of last season. I’m happy to say the job has finally been completed. But I also realize the task of beginning to pick up this winters’ accumulation is but a few short weeks away. For now, I can focus on sawdust making and snow removal, should that ever happen again. A woodsman’s work is never done!                                                                                                                       

For WTIP, this is Wildersmith , on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, as we head into the next two months of this off and on again winter.
 
 

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West End News - January 25

West End News 1/25/18

Before the winter Olympics start up, we have the opportunity to witness some Olympic quality four-legged athletes here at home. This coming weekend, starting on January 28 through the 31st is the annual Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon. In it’s 38th year, the Beargrease is the longest sled dog race in the lower 48 states and serves as a qualifier for the Alaska Iditarod. This year brings over 60 world class mushers and over 500 volunteers from around the country.  In the full distance marathon you can cheer on local mushers Matt Schmidt from Grand Marais and Blake Freking from Finland.
There are a number of checkpoints in the West End where you can take pictures, hang out a campfire, drink hot chocolate, and of course, watch the amazing canine athletes come and go. Two great spots to see some action are in Finland or at the checkpoint on the Sawbill Trail. To get to the checkpoint on the Sawbill, just drive up the trail, which starts in Tofte at the Tofte General Store, for about 6 miles. You can’t miss the checkpoint as it’s always a big jovial gathering with the dogs napping amongst the trees. If you do come visit, please leave your pets at home, the sled dogs need to be distraction free!
A couple of reminders about the great many services offered in the West End. First, there are two computers with internet access, that are available to the public at Birch Grove Center in Tofte. The computers are in Community Room #1 and anyone is welcome to use them. Birch Grove is open Monday through Friday from 9am to 4pm. Also located in Community Room #1 is a small community library. Many books have been donated so the shelves are full! Anyone is welcome to take books home to keep or you can exchange for books you are done with.
I know you’re all dying to hear how the great 2018 Minnesota Frozen Butt Hang went. If you recall, this group of hardy winter hammock campers was headed up to the Sawbill campground for a weekend of freezing their butts off in good company. It was quite the gathering with somewhere around 60 people attending. I heard from one fellow from New Orleans that he’d never seen this much snow in his life. Another camper from Kentucky was very impressed by my stroller fitted with skis in place of wheels. He thought it was a new fancy way of carting your gear into the campsite so imagine his surprise when he peeked in and saw an almost 2 year old little girl peeking back up at him!
The group passed the weekend with the time honored winter traditions of many hours next to the campfire and a quick jump in the lake via a large hole they spent the better part of a day cutting out.
Not much to report in the way of ice fishing this week. Last week’s brief thaw, followed by a dusting of snow in the last few days has created fast and slippery travel conditions out on the lakes. It’s a good time to be from the beautiful West End.

For WTIP, I’m Clare Shirley, with the West End News.
 

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Magnetic North - January 24

Magnetic North 1/23/18
Commuting by Memory
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North, where warmer weather had folks walking about outside in shirtsleeves until it plunged back down near zero, The change in temperature is nowhere more visible than when driving Hwy 61 along the lake, which, just a week ago looked more like a huge steaming cauldron than a body of water.
 
Sub-zero air teased clouds of mist off the big lake, sending droplets of water that may have been there for hundreds of years on a new journey over the land. It was gorgeous to watch, as the last of the great lakers sailed close to shore, bound for port Duluth. Imagining what life must be like out there on those icy decks makes me shiver. I hear the crews eats like royalty, but still....
 
There are many familiar markers and memories along that 15 mile stretch of highway between home and town. For example, there’s one scraggly alder bush that continues to amaze me with every passing winter. She is remarkable enough to have kept her footing on the shallow soil, rooted as she is within a scant ten feet of the water’s edge. But this time of year she stands encased in ice, buffeted by waves and wind. The weight of all that ice would seem a crushing burden, but year after year she bears it. Thawing and leafing out when spring comes again. So many times I promise myself to take a picture of her in her ice cloak. But I needn’t really. 
 
As I pass one place after another on my drive, I recall past scenes more clearly than any camera could capture.
 
There is the beach across from the Outpost Motel, where once I chased an injured snow goose for close to an hour in a vain attempt to rescue her. A friend helped, but each time we got close to the creature she would flap her great buff grey wings, and hobble into a large drainage pipe that ran under the road onto the beach. Finally, I gave up. I told myself that this was “her time,” and all that rot. But each time I pass that beach, the scene plays out again. And so do my regrets.
 
Then there is the seasonal waterfall near to Five Mile Rock, where, on a bright Sunday morning on my way to church, a deer ran in front of my car with a wolf hot on its tail. Again, I was in rescue mode, pulling my car over and hitting the horn. The wolf, stopped for a bit, just long enough for the deer to bound away uphill. And another few blasts of my horn sent the predator loping off in the opposite direction from his prey.  Again, as I pass that spot, I often play out the scenario, this time with a satisfied feeling. 
 
Then there is the ditch alongside the highway in Tofte that conjures up a particularly vivid memory. Paul and I were headed for Duluth one day when we spied a deer carcass on the lake side of the road. We saw also that there were a fair number of happy critters dining on it., lined up along it’s body like a family at a picnic table. There were four of them, three bright black ravens and one furry red fox, all chewing and pecking away at their treasure, the very picture of a peaceable kingdom. Now THAT would have been a photo I would have paid good money to get.
 
Five Mile Rock is my favorite memory spot on the commute. It is the place where my late friend, John Anderson, wished to have his ashes aimed. That’s right, aimed. You see, John’s friend, Chuck owns a small canon, which he hauls out and shoots off on special occasions. Doesn’t everybody? Anyway, when John saw his end approaching, he asked Chuck to load his cremates into the canon and shoot them in the direction of Five Mile Rock on July 4th.
 
It wasn’t just the spectacle, John was an avid fisherman, so to be shot into a body of water he had often plied for fish was a brilliant wish. Many of John’s friends gathered that July 4th at a home on the bluff just above Five Mile Rock. Chuck had alerted law enforcement of his plans, and a good thing too. For just as he aimed the canon full of ashes at the rock, a small fishing craft motored abreast of the target area. Well, we all knew there was no cannonball in the thing. And we knew that Chuck was not a man to dilly dally around until the fishermen decided to quit the rock. But the fellows in the boat were missing some of this vital information.
 
When the blast from the canon came, we all cheered. Then we howled with laughter as the little boat stood practically on end motoring full speed away. Rumor had it that they called the law and I would have given anything to have heard that conversation. “What do you mean he had permission?”  As the saying goes, “Welcome to Cook County!”
 
All in all, it was perfect sendoff for John, a man who loved a good laugh as much as anyone I ever knew.
 
There are more places, more memories along those miles I drive so often: a runaway pot belly pig, a sudden ditching on black ice, the eagles, my spirit animal, flying overhead every single time I went to get chemotherapy in Duluth. So many odd, funny, mystical scenes playing out over and over. And, like a favorite movie or tune, they never, ever get old.
 
For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs-Anderson with Magnetic North
 
 

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Supermoon by Alex Galicia

Northern Sky: Jan 20 - Feb 2, 2018

Northern Sky by Deane Morrison  for January 20 through February 2, 2018.

Deane Morrison is a science writer at the University of Minnesota.
 She authors the Minnesota Starwatch column, and in this feature
she shares what there is to see in the night sky in our region.

Deane Morrison’s column “Minnesota Starwatch” can be found on the
University of Minnesota website at     astro.umn.edu.

 

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Wildersmith on the Gunflint - January 19

Wildersmith on the Gunflint     by     Fred Smith   January 19, 2018    
Winter remains REAL (with a capital R) along the Gunflint as we end week three of the New Year. Another run of frosty north land persona has showed determined grit since we last gathered around the radio.                                                                                                                                                                            
With exception of a one day respite of semi-warmth in this neighborhood, the thermometers have been stuck in the minus category, matching the previous two weeks. Even on the day we did feel a bit of warmth, our winter wasn’t compromised as clouds opened up and dropped little over one-half foot of snow along the Mile-O-Pine. Since then we’ve even added a little more.  
                                                                                                                                                        
It’s anyone’s guess as to what will come next, but a good bet on cold makes sense, since this time of the seasonal calendar is usually the coldest of all.   
                                                                     
Cold as it’s been outside, cold has also been a problem indoors here at Wildersmith. I don’t mean the living conditions, though.     
                                                                                                                                
This household has been sick with an ugly upper respiratory crud since we came home from the Gunflint Mail Run. If listeners heard last weeks’ broadcast you no doubt realized I was not in usual voice.    
                                                                                                                                                          
Feeling pretty punky, it was a raspy struggle. I apologize for my congested attempt, but the news must be heard. If any listeners had trouble understanding my plugged up jargon, you might want to visit the WTIP Wildersmith archives and read the website (WTIP.org) posting for January 12. It will likely be clearer reading than it was as an audio.                                                                                                                                                   
In any event, after being housebound, except for a run to the mail box and an occasional trip to the woodshed over the past week, our physical status appears to be on the upswing commencing this weeks’ scoop last Sunday evening. Thanks to mounds of nasal tissues, routine gulps’ of adult Tussin and bowls of hot soup, I think we’ll live. And, yes, we each had our flu shots!                                                                                                                                                          
Meanwhile, since my connections to the wild land world have been limited, people happenings have not been heard. However, we’ve been entertained by hungry critters the likes of which are hard to comprehend when conditions have been so frigid. Like “water is life”, so too is a “full tummy” in the “wild neighborhood.”                                                                                                                                                                           
We have marveled at the activity of pine martens at seemingly all hours of the day and into the night. It can be hard to differentiate one from another, but for sure there are no less than three and perhaps maybe twice that many, based on efforts to distinguish one furry critter from next. 
                                                                                                                                                           
Lately, we’ve had a few table left-overs lately that I put out for the blue jays (they’ll eat anything) and have discovered these martens have taken to them more readily than expected, in spite of knowing, they prefer raw meat to anything processed.                                                                                      
A left-over portion of scalloped ham and potatoes was dished out recently, and although the jaybirds swooped in for more than their share, an observant marten found it to be suitable too as it munched on the sliced taters, interesting.                                                                                  
The complexity of what hunger is for all beings in creation is renewed daily, right here in our simple north woods setting. Nobody should have to go hungry!     
                                                   
On a closing note, the trout season is now open on border lakes and several anglers braved the bitterness on Gunflint Lake last weekend. According to a few reports, the trout were hanging out below the twenty inches of ice, but not real interested in providing a fisherman’s dinner.   
                                                                                                                                                                   
My good friend down the road, who always seems to catch, like a “green thumb” gardener (with uncanny success), and his buddies brought a few onto the ice. However, he too indicated none were of the whopper variety. As often happens, one to write home about only made it half way onto the ice before breaking off and taking an underwater hike. For sure, there’ll be better days ahead, as there was never an angler born, who isn’t, an eternal optimist! 
                                                                                                                                          
For WTIP, this is Wildersmith, on the Gunflint Trail, where every day is great, with the magnetism for hard water fishing a pulling delight! 
 

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Magnetic North - January 17

Magnetic North 1/15/17
 
Critter Catch and Release
 
Welcome back to Magnetic North where daily snowfall reveals fresh critter tracks every morning. On my chore rounds to coop and barn, I spy the telltale prints of field mice, and snowshoe hares, along with a few more concerning paw marks. The wily fox visits each night and often at dawn, sniffing out the flock of bantam chickens, ducks and two geese snugged up in the hay storage side of my garage.
 
But old Wiley can sniff all he wants. I keep the garage door and coop hatch shut tight at dusk and my two big Lab, Jethro and Zoey, often chase the handsome redhead across the meadow and into the woods by day, allowing the birds safe sunbathing outside, even on  the coldest of days. 

That is not to say there haven’t been loses over the years.. The chicken wire run has been breached by tenacious martens and raccoons.. Stubborn turkeys and guinea hens have resisted my efforts to put them in at night, paying the ultimate price for their brief freedom. And hardest to bear, there have been lapses on my part -a garage door left ajar, or the coop hatch I forgot to close.
 
And so, I have lost birds to pine martens, skunks, coyotes, raccoons and foxes.And even though I know that the predators are only doing what nature tells them to do, I am bitter, even vengeful. But over time, I think I’ve struck a workable method of dealing with the inevitable outcome of keeping domestic creatures in the midst of wild ones.
 
All of the marauders mentioned, except for fox and coyotes, I’ve successfully coaxed into Havahart traps. Skunks proved to be the trickiest to deal with humanely, for obvious reasons. And for those who say that skunks are just big pussycats who can be covered up with a tarp, then carried to a distant place and release without spraying, I say this: give me your phone number and I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to do that for me next time I catch one. 
 
Time was, Paul would dispatch trapped predators with the 22 rifle he got as a twelve year old boy for Christmas. He was a great shot and did the deed well. I can’t shoot straight and, for my own health and safety, prefer not to have a weapon in the house. For these reasons, over time I have become a catch and release fan. 
 
Oh, I did toy with the idea of snaring for a while after my pet goose, Ziva, was killed last winter. She was snatched by a fox in the middle of the day when the dogs were inside. Ziva was a dear thing, not the least bit mean. When I visited her quarters on bitter cold winter nights, the big grey and white African goose would waddle up to me as I sat on a bale of straw and wait for me to pick her up and unzip my parka so she could stick her head inside. It must have reminded her of being a gosling under her mamas wing. For me, it was like holding a big feather pillow, only with a beating heart and cold feet. I miss her every night on chore rounds, as her babies, Thelma and Louise, are not so much cuddly as combative.
 
So when I lost Ziva to a fox, I had blood in my eye and took to researching snares. I knew where the fox came and went from its tracks in the snow. He -or she- made a path off the driveway into a willow stand. The slender willows were perfect for setting up snare lines. After measuring and plotting the wire placement, I asked a friend who knew about such things what he thought my choice of location and chances for success.
 
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked me. . “Have you thought it through?”
 
I had not. 
 
“Well, the thing is,” my friend told me, “it’s not going to be pretty. The animal is going to be frantic, caught by a foot or by the neck. And right off the driveway?....What happens when you let Zoey and Jethro (my dogs) out? Are you going to borrow a gun? It won’t stand still, you know, so you’ll probably end up making a mess of it.....”” and so forth. 
 
Frankly, he had me at “it’s not going to be pretty.” The snare wire is still in the garage. And the fox is still coming, like clockwork, at dusk and dawn, outracing Zoey and Jethro across the meadow at other times. 
 
Howsoever, also in the garage are three sizes of Havahart traps. Wonderful devices that look like big wire breadboxes, with spring-loaded doors that snap shut after the hungry varmint enters and steps on a metal plate where I’ve placed stinky tidbits. The biggest Havahart snapped shut on an enormous raccoon, who clung to the wire piteously until I released her. The small traps have imprisoned three pine martens. All of them, like the raccoon, left the farm alive in my car with road trip treats to keep them happy on their way to their new hunting grounds.
 
When get to the release point - a good 15 miles from my farm - and set the Harahart on the ground, I open the trap door and sing, “Born free, free as the wind blow, free as the grass grows, born freeeeeeee.....” After a momentary confusion as to where the heck they are, the little criminals can’t get away from the sound of my voice fast enough.
 
So yes, this isn’t the eye for an eye punishment I feel like bestowing when I find a favorite goose missing, or a poor duck so badly injured that I have to put her down, but revenge is, as they say, a dish best served cold. I take that to mean that to punish an offender when in the grip of grief and rage is folly and just makes matters worse.. 
 
It’s not exactly the Annie Oakley image of myself I had when I moved to this wild and wonderful place. But it’s one I can live with. And so can the critters who live here too.
 
 
For WTIP, this is Vicki Biggs Anderson with Magnetic North.
 
 

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