A Walk in the Necedah Wildlife Refuge
This is the evening of Saturday, July 23 (and lots of evenings thereafter . . . as I seem to be having a hard time re-doing this!) This morning I took a very nice walk in the Necedah Wildlife Refuge. The reason for my walk was to go blueberry picking, however, it was also a chance to be alone with my thoughts, and enjoy the morning. I returned home from my walk, took a shower, and then spent about two hours typing up my recollections of the morning. Unfortunately, some error in the transmission of my completed entry erased the entire post. Not only did it erase the updates I had made, but the original post as well! I was so frustrated, I had to shut the computer off, and go upstairs and clean a room that has been needing to be cleaned for a very long time.
It is now many hours after, and I've had time to recover from the lost entry. I've lectured myself to make sure to make a COPY of all posts prior to uploading them, just in case I lost them. This has been a frequent theme with online e-mail services as well. Sometimes you can accidentally navigate off the page prior to sending your message. You then lose the entire message. Very frustrating!
So, I shall post this little blerb . . . and then go work on recreating the "masterpiece" I lost this morning! Maybe in the second version it will be even better!
~~~~~~~~~~
I have always enjoyed spending quiet time in remote, wild places. When growing up in West Texas, this was usually done in a desert setting. Sometimes, I was lucky enough to be able to take trips up to the mountains in New Mexico, where there are pine forests. When I came to Wisconsin I found many places to explore. But during the best times of the year, when it is warm, and not covered in multiple feet of snow, it is also usually very buggy. However, lately it has been very dry, so the insect population has been low. I had heard that there was a particularly good crop of blueberries at the refuge this year. It has been quite a number of years since I have picked berries at the refuge. I stopped by the office on Friday and picked up maps of where they have burned the last several years. The burned areas, or “disturbed” as they call them, are usually where blueberries grow best. But I already knew where I was going to focus my gathering activities. There is a spot off of Hwy. 80 where there is parking, and you can walk into the refuge on access roads that are closed to public vehicles. I’ve had luck here before. And the map indicated it had been burned about two years ago. Not being able to go hawking in several months, I really wanted to take a nice, long walk. To enjoy the refuge, but also, to spend time alone, and think.
I have always considered myself a “morning person”. It is my most favorite time of the day! Even on my days off, I frequently awake before 6:00, and enjoy experiencing the sun rise, and the day begin. I wanted to be at the refuge as the sun came up, to experience it at my most favorite time. Also, it would allow me time to gather blueberries before it became too warm., although it was forecast to not become too uncomfortable. I left my home at 5:30, and arrived at the refuge just a little after 6:00. However, I would not catch the sun as it crest the horizon, as low-laying clouds obscured the view. But the light was in the morning sky – and it was a beautiful morning to be alive, and walking in a wilderness area.
As I exited my vehicle, and began to prepare for my walk, I was greeted by the song of a rufous-sided towhee. ~Drink Your Tea~ he sang! There was also the ever-present sound of field sparrows. Their ping pong ball dropping onto a table sound is very distinctive – rendering precise identification of the songster. I swung my cotton field guide bag over my head and settled it on my shoulder, though it contained no guides for today’s outing – but simply a few items I might need on the walk. A bandana around my neck, and a quick spray of repellant on my arms, grab my stick, and I was ready to go. Make sure the keys are in a very secure location – and constantly check they are still there! Don’t want to be stranded and have to call for help. The bowl I brought for gathering berries was cumbersome, as it was not usual hiking gear. But, I had to bring it along. I set off down the road, past the barrier, and into the refuge. Shawn had offered to go with me the previous night, if I wanted his company for “protection”. But I knew he really didn’t want to be up this early, so refused his offer. Besides, I really did need to spend some time by myself. So many things on my mind of late.
Distance can pass by quickly when you are in a pleasant environment, and your pace allows you to fall into a bit of a meditative state. Geese rose from distant beds of water in the surrounding area, winging their way off to forage for the day. As I walked, several great blue herons took wing from ponds by the road. There was also the odd duck, either taking flight, or diving into the tall grasses, many times with the scurry of ducklings behind them. The occasional trumpet of sandhill cranes would echo across the fields. And though I knew they are in the area, none of the released whooping cranes made any appearances this day. I allowed the stillness of the morning, yet the pleasant sound of the morning chorus, to fill me with the awe of the wilderness, the pulse of this place.
I crossed several small streams, experimentally making short forays into the various fields looking for berry sign. At the last one I crossed I disturbed a beaver who gave several warning splashes with his flat tail. Past his watery home, I made my first discovery of berries. They were growing on very short bushes, and were scattered. But it was a first sign. I made my way further into this field and discovered it was a fairly rich patch. To my experience, the berries in this area grow in two separate forms. On very short, practically herb-length stalks, very close to the ground. And on bushes that reach as high as my waist. You would need a botanist to tell you the difference. However, the taste is pretty much the same. The only difference being that the short variety grows best in combination with another bushy plant that was abundant in this field, protected by it, allowing the berries to grow larger, softer, and more sweet. But you have to push aside this companion bush to get at the berries. But their symbiotic relationship made the blueberries easy to find. Just look for the large bush. There was some other kind of berry ripening at the same time. It was reddish, with a pit, almost like a cherry, but cherry does not grow on the ground. I did not know what they were. A brief taste revealed something not very sweet. I have often used this technique, which might kill me some day, of testing berries with a quick experimental taste. My logic being that something bad for me would most likely taste sour or bitter. These particular berries, whereas they were pretty to look at, did not have a taste worthy of gathering them. However, I would like to know what they are. I should have brought a branch home to ID them, but didn’t want to carry extra things with me.
The insects, what there were of them, were very kind to me. I was not bothered by mosquitoes at all. There were some biting flies, who mostly just buzzed around me, occasionally bumping into me. The odd one who decided to bite would be swatted. It was an extremely pleasant day to be out gathering wild blueberries.
As I worked the field I moved off further into it, and out into the center, where very deep grass grew. Moving in the very deep grass, up to my chest sometimes, makes me very nervous. I’m not sure if it is simply that I can’t see very well where I’m going, and what the surface at my feet is like. I don’t want to come suddenly upon mud, and become mired. I’m an awful long way from help . . . and how in the world would I describe to someone how to find me. But I also wonder if the fear is some deep subconscious one. That of not wanting to be out in deep grass, where you can’t see any predators sneaking up on you. It’s not that I myself was afraid on this day of predators. About the only thing on the refuge that could go after a human are wolves, and black bears, neither of which would be out or would do just such to me. However, perhaps it is an ancient fear that manifests in the subconscious. It made my skin crawl. Regardless, blueberries don’t grow in the deep grass, so I moved away from it. But as I worked I joined in an activity practiced by countless women through the millennia. That of bending to the gathering task of berries and roots and herbs. The work did not bother me, and the experience peaceful. However, I wouldn’t want to depend on my sustenance to this task. And my plant knowledge is limited.
Before long I had a goodly collection of berries. I knew there were taller bushes further up the path I had diverged off, and could add to my haul there. However, I wanted to take a break, and had found a nice location to do just that. Next to the canal/creek that ran alongside this field there was a sandy short grass area. It was perfect. There was the comforting gurgle of the water. The light breeze stirred the aspens, waved the long grass. The sky was lightly clouded, the sun not too hot. And the ground inviting. I sat down, and eventually layed down in the grass. It was so peaceful, so very tranquil. The road was a couple miles away. And what few cars travel down it could not be heard by me at this distance. I knew, with a sense that cannot be analyzed, cannot be explained, that I was the only human in a several mile radius. I was safe. No harm would befall me. I closed my eyes and allowed a meditative state to overtake me. I'm not sure exactly how long I was there.
So many thoughts in my mind. A tangled web of ideas and interpersonal relationships I've been trying to sort through. I came to this place to gather berries, but in truth, to gather focus and perspective. Answers to questions that have been weighing heavy on my mind. How to sort through them? How to navigate the path?
In this remote and wild place, I sought the quiet voice of Deity . . . as I understand it. And the peace of this place allowed the wisdom to flow into my heart, and to guide my decisions.
Time passes . . . and with no watch, I had no idea how long I had been at this place. But time did pass, and finally, I felt renewed and decided it was indeed time to go. Not to leave, not yet, but I did get up and work my way out of this field, finding a few more rich patches of ground berries, adding to my bowl, before I returned to the path and continued further down the path. There is a rich patch of tall bush berries off to the right, a couple miles into the park. I found them, and they were ripe! And so much easier to harvest, as you don't have to bend over to get them. I spent the next half hour or so picking these, and eating a good many, before I decided that truly it was time to go. I was some distance from my car, and it would take a bit of a walk to get back. The return trip was also a blur of repetitive steps, taking in the beauty around me, and flushing the same blue herons who probably returned to their pools after I had passed a few hours before.
I got back to my car and found that only four hours had passed. I thought it had been much longer than that. But, the morning was still young! On my way home I stopped by the observation deck by the refuge office, to see if any of the whooping cranes could be seen in the large field that the deck oversees. There were none. But I was surprised to find lots of blueberry bushes all around, and just loaded with berries. People visiting the deck must not have known what they were, because they were right along the path!
Later in the week, during a particularly stressful day, I took a drive on my lunch break, and came to this deck, which is not too far from where I work. I overlooked the marsh . . . no, still no cranes. But I spent a few minutes and picked a couple handfulls of berries. Dessert!
Such a wonderful place to live . . . Central Wisconsin! I am glad at whatever circumstances have brought me here. And my life that includes friends, falconry, and the forests of Central Wisconsin.
It is now many hours after, and I've had time to recover from the lost entry. I've lectured myself to make sure to make a COPY of all posts prior to uploading them, just in case I lost them. This has been a frequent theme with online e-mail services as well. Sometimes you can accidentally navigate off the page prior to sending your message. You then lose the entire message. Very frustrating!
So, I shall post this little blerb . . . and then go work on recreating the "masterpiece" I lost this morning! Maybe in the second version it will be even better!
~~~~~~~~~~
I have always enjoyed spending quiet time in remote, wild places. When growing up in West Texas, this was usually done in a desert setting. Sometimes, I was lucky enough to be able to take trips up to the mountains in New Mexico, where there are pine forests. When I came to Wisconsin I found many places to explore. But during the best times of the year, when it is warm, and not covered in multiple feet of snow, it is also usually very buggy. However, lately it has been very dry, so the insect population has been low. I had heard that there was a particularly good crop of blueberries at the refuge this year. It has been quite a number of years since I have picked berries at the refuge. I stopped by the office on Friday and picked up maps of where they have burned the last several years. The burned areas, or “disturbed” as they call them, are usually where blueberries grow best. But I already knew where I was going to focus my gathering activities. There is a spot off of Hwy. 80 where there is parking, and you can walk into the refuge on access roads that are closed to public vehicles. I’ve had luck here before. And the map indicated it had been burned about two years ago. Not being able to go hawking in several months, I really wanted to take a nice, long walk. To enjoy the refuge, but also, to spend time alone, and think.
I have always considered myself a “morning person”. It is my most favorite time of the day! Even on my days off, I frequently awake before 6:00, and enjoy experiencing the sun rise, and the day begin. I wanted to be at the refuge as the sun came up, to experience it at my most favorite time. Also, it would allow me time to gather blueberries before it became too warm., although it was forecast to not become too uncomfortable. I left my home at 5:30, and arrived at the refuge just a little after 6:00. However, I would not catch the sun as it crest the horizon, as low-laying clouds obscured the view. But the light was in the morning sky – and it was a beautiful morning to be alive, and walking in a wilderness area.
As I exited my vehicle, and began to prepare for my walk, I was greeted by the song of a rufous-sided towhee. ~Drink Your Tea~ he sang! There was also the ever-present sound of field sparrows. Their ping pong ball dropping onto a table sound is very distinctive – rendering precise identification of the songster. I swung my cotton field guide bag over my head and settled it on my shoulder, though it contained no guides for today’s outing – but simply a few items I might need on the walk. A bandana around my neck, and a quick spray of repellant on my arms, grab my stick, and I was ready to go. Make sure the keys are in a very secure location – and constantly check they are still there! Don’t want to be stranded and have to call for help. The bowl I brought for gathering berries was cumbersome, as it was not usual hiking gear. But, I had to bring it along. I set off down the road, past the barrier, and into the refuge. Shawn had offered to go with me the previous night, if I wanted his company for “protection”. But I knew he really didn’t want to be up this early, so refused his offer. Besides, I really did need to spend some time by myself. So many things on my mind of late.
Distance can pass by quickly when you are in a pleasant environment, and your pace allows you to fall into a bit of a meditative state. Geese rose from distant beds of water in the surrounding area, winging their way off to forage for the day. As I walked, several great blue herons took wing from ponds by the road. There was also the odd duck, either taking flight, or diving into the tall grasses, many times with the scurry of ducklings behind them. The occasional trumpet of sandhill cranes would echo across the fields. And though I knew they are in the area, none of the released whooping cranes made any appearances this day. I allowed the stillness of the morning, yet the pleasant sound of the morning chorus, to fill me with the awe of the wilderness, the pulse of this place.
I crossed several small streams, experimentally making short forays into the various fields looking for berry sign. At the last one I crossed I disturbed a beaver who gave several warning splashes with his flat tail. Past his watery home, I made my first discovery of berries. They were growing on very short bushes, and were scattered. But it was a first sign. I made my way further into this field and discovered it was a fairly rich patch. To my experience, the berries in this area grow in two separate forms. On very short, practically herb-length stalks, very close to the ground. And on bushes that reach as high as my waist. You would need a botanist to tell you the difference. However, the taste is pretty much the same. The only difference being that the short variety grows best in combination with another bushy plant that was abundant in this field, protected by it, allowing the berries to grow larger, softer, and more sweet. But you have to push aside this companion bush to get at the berries. But their symbiotic relationship made the blueberries easy to find. Just look for the large bush. There was some other kind of berry ripening at the same time. It was reddish, with a pit, almost like a cherry, but cherry does not grow on the ground. I did not know what they were. A brief taste revealed something not very sweet. I have often used this technique, which might kill me some day, of testing berries with a quick experimental taste. My logic being that something bad for me would most likely taste sour or bitter. These particular berries, whereas they were pretty to look at, did not have a taste worthy of gathering them. However, I would like to know what they are. I should have brought a branch home to ID them, but didn’t want to carry extra things with me.
The insects, what there were of them, were very kind to me. I was not bothered by mosquitoes at all. There were some biting flies, who mostly just buzzed around me, occasionally bumping into me. The odd one who decided to bite would be swatted. It was an extremely pleasant day to be out gathering wild blueberries.
As I worked the field I moved off further into it, and out into the center, where very deep grass grew. Moving in the very deep grass, up to my chest sometimes, makes me very nervous. I’m not sure if it is simply that I can’t see very well where I’m going, and what the surface at my feet is like. I don’t want to come suddenly upon mud, and become mired. I’m an awful long way from help . . . and how in the world would I describe to someone how to find me. But I also wonder if the fear is some deep subconscious one. That of not wanting to be out in deep grass, where you can’t see any predators sneaking up on you. It’s not that I myself was afraid on this day of predators. About the only thing on the refuge that could go after a human are wolves, and black bears, neither of which would be out or would do just such to me. However, perhaps it is an ancient fear that manifests in the subconscious. It made my skin crawl. Regardless, blueberries don’t grow in the deep grass, so I moved away from it. But as I worked I joined in an activity practiced by countless women through the millennia. That of bending to the gathering task of berries and roots and herbs. The work did not bother me, and the experience peaceful. However, I wouldn’t want to depend on my sustenance to this task. And my plant knowledge is limited.
Before long I had a goodly collection of berries. I knew there were taller bushes further up the path I had diverged off, and could add to my haul there. However, I wanted to take a break, and had found a nice location to do just that. Next to the canal/creek that ran alongside this field there was a sandy short grass area. It was perfect. There was the comforting gurgle of the water. The light breeze stirred the aspens, waved the long grass. The sky was lightly clouded, the sun not too hot. And the ground inviting. I sat down, and eventually layed down in the grass. It was so peaceful, so very tranquil. The road was a couple miles away. And what few cars travel down it could not be heard by me at this distance. I knew, with a sense that cannot be analyzed, cannot be explained, that I was the only human in a several mile radius. I was safe. No harm would befall me. I closed my eyes and allowed a meditative state to overtake me. I'm not sure exactly how long I was there.
So many thoughts in my mind. A tangled web of ideas and interpersonal relationships I've been trying to sort through. I came to this place to gather berries, but in truth, to gather focus and perspective. Answers to questions that have been weighing heavy on my mind. How to sort through them? How to navigate the path?
In this remote and wild place, I sought the quiet voice of Deity . . . as I understand it. And the peace of this place allowed the wisdom to flow into my heart, and to guide my decisions.
Time passes . . . and with no watch, I had no idea how long I had been at this place. But time did pass, and finally, I felt renewed and decided it was indeed time to go. Not to leave, not yet, but I did get up and work my way out of this field, finding a few more rich patches of ground berries, adding to my bowl, before I returned to the path and continued further down the path. There is a rich patch of tall bush berries off to the right, a couple miles into the park. I found them, and they were ripe! And so much easier to harvest, as you don't have to bend over to get them. I spent the next half hour or so picking these, and eating a good many, before I decided that truly it was time to go. I was some distance from my car, and it would take a bit of a walk to get back. The return trip was also a blur of repetitive steps, taking in the beauty around me, and flushing the same blue herons who probably returned to their pools after I had passed a few hours before.
I got back to my car and found that only four hours had passed. I thought it had been much longer than that. But, the morning was still young! On my way home I stopped by the observation deck by the refuge office, to see if any of the whooping cranes could be seen in the large field that the deck oversees. There were none. But I was surprised to find lots of blueberry bushes all around, and just loaded with berries. People visiting the deck must not have known what they were, because they were right along the path!
Later in the week, during a particularly stressful day, I took a drive on my lunch break, and came to this deck, which is not too far from where I work. I overlooked the marsh . . . no, still no cranes. But I spent a few minutes and picked a couple handfulls of berries. Dessert!
Such a wonderful place to live . . . Central Wisconsin! I am glad at whatever circumstances have brought me here. And my life that includes friends, falconry, and the forests of Central Wisconsin.
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