A Northwoods Almanac for 11/ 8 – 21//24 by John Bates
Sightings – Trumpeter Swans and a Great Egret
On 10/30, Sarah Krembs told me she had received a phone call from someone who saw an unusual all-white bird flying around Pipke Pond in Presque Isle. It wasn’t a gull said the caller. What was it, she wanted to know?
Sarah and I talked about the possibilities – after all, there aren’t that many all-white birds to choose from – but with so little information, we couldn’t draw any conclusions.
The next morning, Sarah emailed this: “It’s an egret. I drove around Pipke Pond in the driving rain this morning. There are still a minimum of 16 Trumpeter Swans out there. But in addition to the swans this morning, along the shoreline, I spotted a blob of white between the swipes of my windshield wiper blades. I grabbed the binoculars, and I could see it was a cold, wet, hunched up Great Egret standing there. Poor guy. He should have flown south yesterday when the getting’ was good.”
great egret, photo by Bev Engstrom |
Great egrets are a rarity up here, but every few years one shows up. In a quick look at some of my old columns, I have records of one in our area in 2021, 2016, 2011, and 2009, so they do wander our way. But the sighting of a southern species like this always raises the question of what are they doing up here?
They are listed as a threatened species in Wisconsin, but while Wisconsin is at the northern edge of the great egret’s range, during the 2006 breeding bird survey in Wisconsin, 10 breeding sites were found in the state. Their primary range, though, is well south of here along the Mississippi River and around Horicon Marsh/Lake Winnebago.
Still, great egrets can turn up almost anywhere in the summer, often traveling hundreds of miles north from their spring rookeries, for reasons no one can say. But this late in the year? Well, it’s been a warm autumn overall, so perhaps this individual was just on an adventure and delaying its inevitable migration south.
great egret range map |
As for why 20+ trumpeter swans were hanging out on Pipke Pond, well, trumpeter swans don’t necessarily have to migrate south to survive, needing only open water and sufficient forage to stay north. For instance, a small flock stays all winter on the Manitowish River near Benson Lake.
However, most Wisconsin trumpeter swans migrate, and largely to Illinois, but they can go just about anywhere given that they’re a re-introduced native species hatched from Alaskan eggs, and thus don’t have an established migratory route in Wisconsin.
Okay, well, why so many in one place? Territory defense only lasts until their cygnets hatch and leave the nest, or they may remain territorial until fledging of the cygnets, but after that, trumpeters obviously are happy to socialize.
And why so many specifically on Pipke Pond? Well, it must be good foraging, because trumpeters are North America’s largest waterfowl species, and they eat a lot. But many other Northwoods lakes have good forage, too, so . . . As with many things in nature, there’s no easy answer. “Knowledge is an island in a sea of mystery,” wrote Chet Raymo, and I abide by that.
The Muddy Ontonagon River
I recently attended a wonderful event in Eagle River celebrating Joe and Mary Hovel’s selection for the 2024 Land Legacy Award from Gathering Waters, Wisconsin’s alliance organization for more than 40 Wisconsin land trusts. Joe and Mary have worked for decades to conserve and protect lands in the Border Lakes region of Wisconsin, as well as in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and in Wisconsin’s Central Sands region. Together, they have raised public awareness of the importance of land conservation, served as watchdogs for land use, and negotiated and facilitated the purchase and sale of thousands of acres of land and conservation easements.
I have them properly placed on my “conservation heroes” pedestal where they belong. We should all aspire to work as hard for conservation as they do.
During the event, Joe gave a talk on Wisconsin’s connection to Michigan’s wild and scenic rivers, and the question came up as to why the Ontonagon River begins clear but becomes quite red and muddy as it passes through wild sections of the U.P. Ron Eckstin, retired DNR wildlife manager, noted, “These [north shore] rivers flow through a wide band of red clay soils. The red clay soils are ”young” soils formed in glacial times on the bed of Lake Superior when the lake was much higher (Glacial Lakes Duluth and Algonquin). These soils are subject to natural erosion that is accelerated by agriculture, development and past lumbering. The “red” in the rivers is iron oxide formed when the red soils come in contact with oxygen.”
I also brought up the impact of the intense logging and subsequent river drives that took place in the U.P. and Wisconsin, all of which scoured the river bottoms and obliterated shorelines. Can you imagine how much our narrow and shallow rivers were altered by literally tens of thousands of logs being driven down them, as well as the erosion of the river banks after the drives from the clearcutting to the river edges?
If you haven’t read Deep Woods Frontier: A History of Logging in Northern Michigan by Theodor Karamanski, I recommend it highly. The Diamond Match Company was the single biggest timber cutter in the UP, and their impact was immense. Kamanski writes,”The high water mark of pine logging in northern Michigan came in the 1894-95 season. Forest fires, caused by a dry summer but spurred by the debris from Diamond Match’s own logging, ravaged the woods of southern Ontonagon County. The fast burning fire did not consume the pine forests, but the trees were badly scorched by the blaze.”
Loggers were concerned that the wood had to be cut immediately or insects would consume it. So, they brought in “Six thousand lumberjacks, a small army, [who] labored the winter butchering the timber. Thirteen million board feet of pine per week fell in the wake of their cross-cut saws. A total of 1200 horses, brought from farms in far-off Iowa and southern Wisconsin, hauled the mountain of wood from the cuttings to the banks of the Ontonagon River . . . One hundred eight-five million feet of pine were scaled at the side of the Ontonagon River . . . it was estimated that if all the logs were loaded on railroad flatcars, it would take a train more than 250 miles long to carry the haul . . .
“It was at this point that the ambitious appetite of the Diamond Match Company ran afoul . . . of the serpentine Ontonagon River. Mammoth log jams occurred all along the course of the drive . . . For the remainder of 1895 and all through the spring and summer of 1896, the Ontonagon River remained choked at Grand Rapids . . . Finally in 1897, the jam was cleared and all the logs delivered to the lakeshore.”
Well, there’s so much more worthy of reading here, but the point is to try to envision 185 million feet of pine being cut in one year and sent down one river, and all the jams that ensued. The violent gouging of the river banks and the dredging of the river sediments is, for me, nearly impossible to imagine. At the time, this was considered the “world’s greatest logging operation.” What would have been its impacts to the red clay banks of the Ontonagon, and what are the impacts still today in this often hilly region of the U.P.? I believe it’s part of the reason the river runs so red.
The Flambeau Trail
While I’m talking history, I read a recent article in “The Wisconsin Archeologist” (January-December 2023) by John Wackman entitled “The Montreal Portage Trail/Flambeau Trail – A History” that challenged what I thought I knew about the 45-mile long Flambeau Trail.
I had always understood there was a single trail starting at the mouth of the Montreal River that ran all the way to the north end of Long Lake in Iron County. From there, Native Americans and fur traders would paddle south to the base of Long Lake, enter Long Lake Creek, which flows into the Turtle River, then head into Echo Lake (formerly Big Turtle Lake) in Mercer. From there, a short 100-yard portage took them into Tank Lake (formerly Grand Portage Lake), then into a tiny creek that runs under Hwy. 51 right next to the giant fiberglass loon greeting folks entering Mercer, and into Mercer Lake (formerly Sugar Camp Lake). Then a nearly four mile portage had to be taken southeast through some serious wetlands into the Manitowish River.
Now the options were to head upriver on the Manitowish through the current “Chain of Lakes” in Manitowish Waters, which wasn’t a chain back then, and on into the Trout River to Trout Lake and through a series of lakes and portages to the Wisconsin River.
Or they could go downriver on the Manitowish until they hit the Bear River, and paddle upstream into Lac du Flambeau.
Well, it turns out the Flambeau trail had two branches, one originating at the mouth of the Montreal, and the other at Saxon Harbor. Both, however, came together about three miles later near Saxon Falls. Which of the trails was the principal trail is a matter of conjecture, but Wackman believes the Montreal River mouth was the main starting point.
Montreal Portage Trail and Flambeau Trail |
The trail was first described in writing by Raddison in 1661 and Perrot in 1667, but was later described among others by Schoolcraft in 1820, Cram in 1840, Owen and Norwood in 1848, and Sweet as late as 1880.
The earliest use of the trail is unknown and can only be speculation. Archaeologist Robert Salzer (1969) described the long-term occupation on Strawberry Island in Lac du Flambeau: “We can hypothesize a minimum of three occupation periods: Middle Woodland (sometime during the first few centuries after Christ?); Late Woodland (beginning as early as AD 1000 . . .); and Historic, dating around AD 1900.” Without written records over these periods, the earliest use of the trail, which would have brought people to Strawberry Island, will likely never be known.
The trail was a 120-pause portage, a “pause” occurring when the travelers had to stop and rest, which depending on the terrain, was usually about a half-mile.
Think about this for a moment. What’s the longest portage you ever did? The longest single portage I ever accomplished was a one-miler in the Boundary Waters, and I was pretty spent after carrying a pack and a lighter weight canoe to the next lake. The voyageurs and natives carried 95 pound packs, but more often two packs, so they didn’t have to return and do the trail twice.
So, the Flambeau Trail was surely not for the faint of heart or frail of body. Francois Victor Malhiot, a 28-year-old Frenchman appointed to take charge of the North West Fur Company's trading post in Lac du Flambeau, crossed the Flambeau Trail in July of 1804. He's most often quoted for this observation of the trail: “Of all the spots and places I have been in my thirteen years of travels, this is the most horrid and most sterile. The Portage road is truly that to heaven because it is narrow, full of overturned trees, obstacles, thorns, and muskegs. Men who go over it loaded and who are obliged to carry baggage over it, certainly deserve to be called ‘men’ . . . This vile portage is inhabited solely by owls, because no other animal could find a living there, and the hoots of those solitary birds are enough to frighten an angel or intimidate a Caesar.”
Attempts have been made to relocate the trail, but given the intensive logging that occurred in the late 1800s, and still occurs today, and how quickly trees grow back, the trail has for the most part been obliterated.
Celestial Events
Yesterday, November 7, marked the midway point between the autumn equinox and winter solstice.
After dusk on 11/10, look for Saturn barely below the waxing moon.
The full moon – the Beaver/Freezing/Ice is Forming Moon – occurs on 11/15.
Look before dawn on 11/17 for the peak Leonid Meteor Shower, which averages 15 meteors per hour.
Thought for the Week
“History is a very tricky thing. To begin with, you can’t get it mixed up with the past. The past actually happened, but history is only what someone wrote down.” – A. Whitney Brown