Northern Michigan: Students from the University of Michigan Biological Station have been posting blogs on the MyNorth.com Community Page! Here are a couple of excerpts…
Wilder Than Before
By Stephanie Fortino
High above a child’s orange-themed birthday party an orange balloon on an orange string bounces happily in the wind. A curious child, with small safety scissors in hand, wanders over to the orange balloon’s orange string and cuts it from its orange weight. All the children stop to look up at the freed balloon. The helium inside it is less dense than the surrounding air causing the balloon to float higher and higher into the sky. Once out of sight in the pale orange sunset, the children lose interest and continue with Craft Time.
A young woman walking along the southern beach of Lake Michigan admires the muted browns, blues and grays of the gravel and water around her. The Lake stretches out for miles before her, the furthest tip of Waugoshance Point barely visible to her left through the morning’s humid haze. As she looks along the beach admiring the variety of stones around her, she sees something stark against the landscape. She walks over to the unnaturally orange thing and realizes it’s a ribbon with deflated bits of plastic still attached. In a moment of decision, she picks it up, stuffs it in her pocket, and happily continues her walk…
Click to read the rest of Stephanie's blog!
The Season
By Nicholas Gezon
It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when I pulled my car into the gravel parking area alongside the road. Snow fell lightly from the gray sky and the thermometer read 25 degrees Fahrenheit. My car rested alone along the narrow gravel strip that ran parallel to the road until the bridge. I walked out of the car and crunched through the thin layer of snow dusting the ground to take a look at the river running under the bridge. The water level was a little high and was stained a brown tea color. I returned to my car and gathered my fishing gear.
I slowly eased myself into the ice cold waters of the stream, feeling the heat leave my waders and dissipate into the river. I waded carefully across the stream through the soft, silty, and leaf covered bottom to the path on the other side. As I climbed out at the other bank, I tucked my fly rod under my arm and stuck my partially gloved hands into my wader pockets. They were already starting to go numb. The path followed the river, winding upstream through the lichen covered trunks and branches of willow and alder. I walked fast along the path, trying to work my muscles to warm my frigid legs. The bridge was now out of sight behind the gray and white landscape of the trees. I rounded a bend and then walked off the path to have another look at the river. In this location the river flowed in between many rocks and boulders, creating plenty of little pockets for trout to hide. I sat on the edge of the clay bank and opened up my fly box, thinking about which flies to use given the conditions of the day…
Click to read the rest of Nicholas' blog!