Autumn's Arrival Poses Questions

Across the Fence #462

I saw my first flock of geese flying in formation and calling to me over the weekend. I think they were telling me to follow them because they know that winter follows closely on the heels of autumn. I love to hear the sound of geese overhead, especially while walking through a woods on a blanket of new-fallen leaves. Nothing says that autumn has arrived more than geese and falling leaves. It becomes a spiritual experience for me.

I remember sitting in the woods during many beautiful autumn days, waiting for squirrels to start scampering through the leaves. I would lean back against the trunk of a tree and soak up the warm sun, as leaves floated gently through the air, sometimes circling ‘round and ‘round, before joining those already covering the ground. It was a quiet, peaceful time communing with nature. Then the sound of honking geese could be heard in the distance, gradually coming closer, until they were overhead. Was the constant honking a way of communicating? What were they saying to each other? Were they just chatting among themselves to relieve the boredom of a long flight? So many questions and so few answers.

I would become lost in thought until the rustle of nearby leaves would bring me back to reality. It must be a squirrel approaching because of the jerky pattern of movement. One, two, three jumps, then a pause. One, two, three jumps, then a pause. Why the pause? Was the squirrel stopping to listen for the sound of intruders looking for a meal? Was he pausing and trying to remember where he buried that last acorn and just wanted an afternoon snack? Or was he pausing to listen to what the geese were chatting about? Did the squirrel understand their talk? Maybe their chatter was reminding him that autumn had arrived and winter was close on its heels. It was time to get serious about stockpiling acorns and insulating the nest for those cold winter days and nights that were just around the corner. Maybe the geese were telling all the critters down below, who were stuck here for the winter, to pack on another layer of fat because it was going to be a cold one.

I would get so lost in thought with all these questions, that I’d forget I was sitting there hunting for squirrels. I needed to bring some home for supper, and I don’t mean as guests. One time as I was sighting in on a squirrel that was gathering up leaves and heading up the trunk of a tree with them, I remember thinking ‘I can’t pull the trigger. What if it’s a mamma squirrel who has young ones and she wants to keep them warm this winter by packing more grass and leaves into the nest? Maybe she heard what the geese were chatting about. If I pull the trigger, what will happen to her young ones?’ 

I was probably twelve years old at the time and didn’t realize that her youngsters were grown up and out on their own by that time. I was a farm boy who knew about the birds and the bees from watching what went on with the animals, but apparently it had never dawned on me that most were born in the spring and on their own by the time the snow started flying.

I may have been full of questions, but apparently I was a bit short on answers! My concern for the well-being of animals allowed many wild critters to go unharmed. I guess that was OK because it left a larger population of squirrels for other hunters, and that made them happy. But it sure didn’t do anything for my “Great Hunter” reputation when I would come home empty-handed. 

We did a lot of hunting and I was proud of my hunting ability. I felt like I was helping provide us with food. We always ate everything we hunted and killed, whether it was squirrels, rabbits, pheasants, grouse, or deer. Dad also taught us how to skin and clean the game we killed. 

When I came home without anything to show for my efforts, I didn’t dare tell anyone that I had plenty of chances to blast them out of the trees, but had decided to just sit and watch them as they went about their work of getting ready for winter. 

Times change. People change. I have nothing against those who hunt, but I don’t hunt anymore. Vietnam destroyed the hunting spirit in me. When we lived in Madison I fed the squirrels in our yard and some trusted me enough to take a nut from my hand. I wouldn’t have had the heart to shoot them, even if I was starving!

Now, Instead of heading into the woods with a gun, I venture the back roads and woods with a camera. That’s how I shoot animals and birds these days. It’s that time of year when the geese are flying and talking to us, and the leaves are beginning to fall around us. It’s a great time of year. It’s a beautiful time of year. I hope you can get out and enjoy all the sights, sounds, and smells of autumn. Let me know if you understand what the geese are talking about!

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A Spider Webs Lessons of Life

Across the Fence #461

One day I noticed a large spider web in a corner of the window that overlooks the back yard. Luckily, it was on the outside of the window. With colder weather and fall approaching, spiders have been busy gathering the last mosquitoes, flies, and other winged prey.

There was a fly trapped in the web outside the window. I watched as the spider suddenly appeared from somewhere near the bottom of the web. When he reached the struggling fly, the spider began to rotate it, weaving silk strands around it. When the spider was finished, the fly was wrapped inside a silken cocoon. In all my years of observing life and nature around me, I had never seen a spider wrap a fly. He must have been full and wanted to save the fly for a later meal. It reminded me of Frodo in The Lord of the Rings when a giant spider paralized him and wrapped him in a silk cocoon. 

As I watched the spider and examined the spider’s web, I remembered Loren Eisele’s “Unexplained Universe” in which he writes about the lessons of life he learned from observing a spider web one day. As he watched how the spider reacted when he poked a pencil at the web, he realized that man does not exist in the spider’s universe. The only thing that concerned the spider was what kind of meal had become trapped in his web. He realized that like the spider, man is only concerned with those things that happen in his immediate universe.

I began thinking about Eisele’s observations and realized how true they are in my own life. The web of my life stretches out from a central point. Wherever I’m located is the center of that universe, whether it is in my house or somewhere along my travels through life. Wherever I am, is the center of the universe–at least to me. That’s not unlike the area of the web where the spider might be found. Nothing concerns the spider unless it invades the boundaries of its web. Any living creature that becomes entangled in the web will struggle to try and free itself, and the spider can sense the struggle and ventures forth to greet his prey and next meal. An inanimate object, like Loren Eisele’s pencil, will not put up a struggle and the spider will ignore it, knowing it’s not a meal.

I realize, that like the spider, we as humans, are for the most part, only concerned when something happens that will have an impact on us, or those close to us. Wars and famines in other countries are something to think about, and talk about, but the vast majority of people are not directly affected by those events. Therefore, we essentially go about our daily lives as if those events didn’t exist. 

People are starving to death all over the world every day, but I eat good and gain weight. Starving people do not exist in my universe. People suffering from diseases like AIDS are not in my universe unless it hits close to home. Until it enters the boundaries of my web, my universe, it has no affect on me. 

Drug dealing and gang related activities don’t exist in my universe. Oh, I know they exist somewhere out in the world around me. However, until I, or someone close to me, gets mugged or is robbed by a person looking for drug money, it’s not a part of my immediate universe. 

Wars don’t concern people unless they or a loved one are involved. If no one close is involved, the war doesn’t pertain to their universe or web of life.

Unlike the Vietnam War, which had an enormous affect on our family, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have had little, if any, direct affect on my daily life. It doesn’t have as much impact in my universe. If it suddenly touched someone close to me, and they were killed or seriously wounded, then it would become part of my universe. 

I look around me at my web of life and realize how small my universe really is. In proportion, it’s not much bigger than the web of that little spider. Not only does a very small part of the universe have a direct affect on my life, but I have very little direct affect on most of the universe. The web of life churns on and on at an increasing rate of speed and I hang onto the threads for dear life, knowing that if I let go, the web could spin away from me in the blink of an eye. 

The key to this web of life seems to be learning what affects us and what affect, hopefully positive, we can have on the universe and the people around us. The web for most of us is not very big. Like the spider, we must learn to sense what is important and what is not. Then we can react to those things that we can have some control over, and not worry about those things that we have no control over. That knowledge and understanding would make life a lot less stressful for all of us. We can learn a lot from observing a spider and its web. They have lessons to teach us about life.

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Two Important September Events

Across the Fence #460

As I write this column, September has arrived. Where did the summer go? It seems like it just started. Now yellow leaves have begun to appear on one of the trees next to the house. This has been a very hot and humid week. I didn’t complain because I know I’ll be wishing for days like this when it’s way below zero and we’re blanketed with two-foot snowdrifts around our house.

This morning I’m sitting on our back deck and a gentle breeze washes over me as I write. A Hummingbird just joined me, checking out the red geraniums on the deck. In the distance a rooster is crowing, announcing the arrival of September. I’ll miss sitting here and writing during the long winter ahead. I’m hoping for a long, colorful fall season before winter makes an appearance.

When September arrives, the Vernon County Fair isn’t far behind. It’s the last fair in Wisconsin each year. By the time you read this we’ll be in the midst of the fair. It will be a very busy week. I’ll be in our Vernon Telephone Cooperative booth in the co-op building. Those will be 14+ hour days. If you’re at the fair, stop by and say hello. We can pretend we’re visiting across the fence.

If you stop by on Saturday I won’t be there. I’ve been asked to be a speaker at the 25th anniversary celebration of the Wisconsin Vietnam Veterans Tribute at The Highground near Neillsville, Wisconsin. The Highground is a 150-acre veterans memorial park on Highway 10 about three miles west of Neillsville.

It doesn’t seem like it’s been 25 years since we had the dedication ceremony of “Fragments,” the sculpture depicting four life-size Vietnam figures. It honors all Wisconsin Vietnam veterans and lists all those who were killed and missing in action. Thousands of people crowded onto The Highground for that dedication ceremony on September 18, 1988. I was a speaker that day as we unveiled the sculpture.

Now I’ve been invited to return and speak at the 25th anniversary celebration. I couldn’t say no to that invitation, even though I should be manning our booth at the fair. I was one of the founding members of The Highground and I’ll talk about some of the early planning and struggles we had as we took on a task that was far bigger than any of us could have imagined. Many of us who were involved in the early development of the park will be returning for the 25th anniversary. We went through a lot together as we struggled to make a dream become a reality. 

When we began it was called The Wisconsin Vietnam Veterans Memorial Project, Inc. The site near Neillsville was chosen from ten sites by the board. Three sites were picked to make presentations to the board. As soon as I saw the Neillsville site I knew it was the place we wanted. If you’ve visited The Highground, you know what I mean.

Early on we decided to call it The Highground, and also decided that we needed to include ALL veterans, not just Vietnam veterans. We didn’t want anyone to feel they weren’t welcome. It became a veteran’s memorial park and now includes World War I, World War II, Korea, and Vietnam tributes. Also memorials to Gold Star families, women veterans, an earthen mound peace dove, the National Native American Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and a Persian Gulf Tribute is in the works. There’s a timber frame information/gift shop and a new learning center with a library and changing exhibits, dealing with the physical and emotional costs of war. We’ve also developed hiking trails throughout the 150-acre park.

The project was not for the feint of heart or those not willing to work. Thanks to a working board of directors and countless volunteers, the idea became a reality. Many times I headed to board meetings at Neillsville with the intention of resigning. In those early days very few people would give us the time of day, and people expected us to fail. Each time I was ready to throw in the towel something would happen that gave me hope and reminded me why this project was important. Much of that encouragement came from families who had lost a son in Vietnam. One father told me it was the first time he felt like someone cared that his son had died. Comments like that kept us going. 

After four long years of struggles and a lot of work, the Wisconsin Vietnam Veterans Tribute was finally dedicated 25 years ago. It was a great day for everyone involved. On Saturday, September 14 at 2:00 pm, many of us who were there when it was only a dream will gather together again. I won’t be surprised if the spirits of our friends, whose voices have been silenced, speak to us again as the wind makes the bamboo chimes of Fragments come alive with sound.

The Highground has become a place for everyone, veterans and non-veterans, a place where their emotional wounds can begin the healing process. Many call it a spiritual place. I know it has saved lives. That’s made all the work and struggles worth it. I invite everyone to come and be a part of this 25th anniversary.

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Twilight Time In the Country

Across the Fence #459

It’s been a very hot August day, full of heat, humidity, and thankfully, a slight breeze. That breeze also traveled through the corn, making the stalks and leaves come alive with sound. The wind blowing through the trees gave a variety of sounds, depending on the type of tree.

This evening as dusk settles in, I’m sitting on our back deck, observing and listening as day turns to twilight. I’ve said before that this is my favorite time of the day. The hustle and bustle of the day slows down and the night sounds come alive.

If you’re sitting in your air-conditioned home with the windows shut tight and the TV blaring, or staring at a computer screen, you’re going to miss out on a wonderful part of the day. It was always a part of our day when I was young, but now that so many people hate to venture out of the air-conditioned comfort of their homes, it’s a part of life that’s unknown to many people.

The sun has now set and darkness is beginning to envelope the land. As light began to fade, I watched as individual trees in the grove next to the house, merged into a solid, dark mass. It reminded me that all of life is connected. It was like looking at the earth from outer space... there are no borders to separate people and countries. One large tree along the fence line, near a corner of the back yard, stands silhouetted against the darkening sky, a lonesome rebel among the other trees. I sit here peacefully alone, watching twilight emerge and pondering the mysteries of life.

The sounds of the night have taken over and the land is alive with a symphony of sound. I just left the deck and walked along the edge of the grove of trees and listened to the sounds of the night. There was a constant, loud chatter among the crickets, tree frogs, and assorted insects. I hope every person who reads this, has the opportunity to listen to nature’s evening symphony. The bass section has just been heard from as the frogs down by the pond added their voices. I thought the birds had all retired for the night, but the wonderful call of a Killdeer just greeted my ears.

There have been a lot fewer birds around this week. All the Redwing Blackbirds, Grackles, and Starlings must have packed up and headed for other places to spend the winter. On Wednesday morning I saw one Grackle with the Mourning Doves under the feeder. He must have missed the memo that it was time to move on.

Listening to this twilight chorus reminds me that we need to maintain habitat for the birds and assorted critters and insects, so these sounds don’t disappear. In recent days, two people, on separate occasions, approached me about their concern for all the trees and fence line habitat that has been destroyed. I recently wrote about my concerns in a story titled, “Call Me A Tree Hugger.”

As more and more trees and brush are destroyed, it’s changing the ecological balance of nature and we’re going to see fewer habitats for birds and wildlife. This spring the last beautiful tree on our old Smith School playground was cut down to make room for a few more plants of corn and soybeans. The Wisconsin D.O.T. destroyed the rest of the large trees at Smith School, along with all the trees and bushes on Sherpe Road, when they built the Uff da Bahn a couple years ago. Now I’ve heard that an out-of-state owner wants to cut down the trees along the old railroad bed across from Country Coon Prairie Church, in order to plant a couple more rows of corn. They’ve already removed all the fences and trees that used to separate farms and fields. Now it’s one large field where contour plowing has been discarded. The world is changing, the landscape is changing, and future generations will be the poorer for it if they can’t sit and listen to the wonderful evening symphony I’m now enjoying.

My father was a great one for planting trees and providing habitat for wildlife, not destroying it. The weeds, brush, and trees were left along the fence lines to provide places for the birds and animals to live and reproduce. We once came upon a Killdeer’s nest in a tobacco row while we were hoeing. He made sure we stayed clear of the nest and didn’t destroy it. He was a fisherman, a hunter, and a conservationist. He would not look with favor upon many of the practices that are destroying trees and wildlife habitat if he were still alive.

I pondered all these things as I sat in the dark and listened to the sounds of the night. The wind began blowing, adding the gentle rustling of leaves to the mix of sounds. The dark trees have now merged completely with the night sky that is now filled with countless stars. It’s always a beautiful sight in the dark sky in the country where few lights hinder the viewing. A shooting star just greeted me. It’s a great, relaxing way to bring the curtain down on another busy day.

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