If silence is golden, then it’s going to be pretty quiet in these parts. Gold is the catchword as the forest is exploding through the Gunflint hillsides. By the time this scoop reaches you readers and listeners, our landscape will be one to behold.
With only a few spindly showers over the area since we last met over the airwaves, border country remains sadly dry. The mood is kind of eerie as residents are edgy with regard to the possibility of somebody being careless with fire, or an act of nature happening in the form of a lightning strike.
Luckily, thus far this section of the Superior National Forest has been spared while several patches to our west and north have been experiencing a number of small blazes. We on the Gunflint are thankful that people in proximity to these burns have not been adversely affected. Further, all can be grateful that the Forest Service has got right after these incidents, and at this writing, all are either out or contained.
One element of fall is the smell of burning leaves; however, if you live in the forest this is not a pleasant thought. A smell of autumn that is welcomed, though, is the aroma coming from fallen leaves when they’ve been spritzed with a bit of rain.
I got my first whiff of fall just a few days ago following one of our feeble showers. That marvelous indescribable scent would be worth a fortune if it could only be captured and put in a bottle. Ahhh, the essence of our changing times!
The last rose of summer has long since passed, but the last blooms of this fading season are hanging on in dazzling color. Large leaf asters are about the last vestige of bright color against the muted backdrop of other dying wilderness flora. They’re out in abundance this year, and as opposed to their usual white to pale blue color are the most vivid tint of lilac I’ve observed during my short time in the wilderness.
Speaking of roses, our extended dry spell seems to have spelled doom for this year’s rose hip crop. They are rapidly wilting on the stem and many will not be maturing as firm fruit when the first freeze usually sets them in readiness for harvesting.
Some friends who reside over on Loon Lake report that they had a bumper crop of mountain ash berries this year. Their three trees were loaded with the cheery, cherry red fruit until a flock of cedar waxwings invaded one day last week. There were an uncountable number of the hungry birds and in one days setting, they devoured the entire crop. I have since found that this is not an unusual happening.
We all know that loon pairs are forever. They love, honor and serve each other just as human unions can do. A local fellow tells of sitting on a dock recently when a loon popped up out of the water within a few feet from where he was perched.
To his surprise the handsome bird had been fishing and brought its catch out of the water. After a bit of shaking the finny and dunking it back underwater a couple times, the amiable bird swam off a short distance to where its mate had surfaced and “served” it the catch of the day.
How’s that for an affectionate gesture in our often-tough natural world? This avian love affair kind of goes hand in hand with the amorous snapping turtle story of last week.
Some 60 members of the Gunflint Trail Historical Society took part in a historic cabin tour last Saturday. The event, which was open to members only, found the touring participants getting to step back in time as they journeyed to seven cabin/homes in the historic district on the shores of Hungry Jack Lake.
The GTHS is grateful to the property owners for opening up their celebrated dwellings while sharing hospitality and storied information about their wilderness havens. Raves were heard from the visitors, leaving many thirsting for more such opportunities. Hopefully, this might become an annual fund raising event for the historical society. Kudos to all the organizers and the gracious homeowners!
Keep on hangin’ on and savor gold in “them thar hills!”
Airdate: September 14, 2012