07 May 2012

Preparation for the Great Migration


I had a bit of an “Oh $#%T” moment when I got back to Point last night (and am still continuing to have it, mind you!) after bringing home a bunch of stuff to keep there over the summer. 

I’m still finding it a little overwhelming and hard to believe that in a less than I week, I am going to be westward bound, hot on the trail to Nevada. It is one of those surreal moments where you think this can’t be quite right. However this opportunity found its way to me, I’m glad of it. I am beyond excited, albeit it’s a quiet excitement, at least on the outside. 

On the inside, well now, that’s a different story. I’m flipping out!  So much to do, so much to organize, who are these people I’m going to be living with for the next three months, will I be the odd person out, are we going to mesh together ok…???? And still so many people left to make last minute visits to. 

OK, just breathe…I really shouldn’t be this wigged out. I’ve gone numerous new places for an extended amount of time without incident. Why is this any different? Can’t really explain that one.

I’m trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to stay focused for the remainder of the week. I’m taking all of my final exams early in order to get out to Nevada on time, so it is major crunch time! Then what’s she doing here…? I know, I know…There are simply too many thoughts swirling in mind that I’ve got to get them out. 

I just spent the last two and a half hours finishing up my last paper for my outdoor writing class, so I needed a little breather…I’m rather proud of this paper too. This time I wrote a natural history article about the preservation of the Quetico-Superior Wilderness in northern Minnesota and along the Canadian border. I very loosely covered its geology, wildlife, unique distinction as a transition zone between boreal and hardwood forests, and the human elements, of course, including Ojibwe settlement, the fur trade, white pine logging, and iron ore mining. This is all culminated in the “crusade for conservation” of natural resources of the region and ultimately its preservation as a designated wilderness. Pretty neat stuff!

It seems I’m still channeling Sigurd Olson. I can live with that.

When I’m not channeling Sigurd Olson, I’ve been nose deep in everything else, frantically trying to finish up a few assignments, study for exams, pack up the rest of my room and coordinate housing with my fellow technicians. Still haven’t got that last one figured out yet. Working on it though! 

I also managed to snag time with a few friends I haven’t seen in a while, play with two of the most awesome toddlers at our end of the year barbecue (my arms and neck are still feeling that one!), and do some good old-fashioned manual labor turning my grandma’s compost, in the rain (still feeling this one too!) All of these things added up to be great therapy just to let go of all the little things, if only for a little while. 

Having these moments keep me grounded, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.

06 May 2012

Profile of Sigurd Olson


So here it is: the long awaited profile I wrote of Sigurd Olson. Mind you, it is not the most riveting piece of writing, although I did enjoy writing it. I stand by my recommendation last time of encouraging anyone to read some of his work if they haven’t. If you’ve never had the opportunity to experience the North woods, after reading an essay or two of Olson’s, I can almost guarantee you’ll want to! Enjoy!

Of Time and Place: A Profile of Sigurd F. Olson (1899-1982)

Sigurd Olson
Simplicity in all things is the secret of the wilderness and one of its most valuable lessons.”—Sigurd Olson
               Simple joys. A way of life. A corridor into the past. A hope for the future. This is what Sigurd Olson sees as he sits on an outcrop of Pre-Cambrian greenstone jutting out from Listening Point, overlooking the south end of Burntside Lake at the border of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. He peers thoughtfully at the glassy surface of the water with one knee pulled up and an arm resting on it, a pipe casually held in his hand. 
               Olson spent the better part of sixty years conveying the importance of wilderness preservation. Nature and the wilderness were never far from his mind or his reach. Hunting, fishing and trapping were regular activities of his childhood in northern Wisconsin and later, teaching, guiding, reflecting and writing at the edge of what became the Boundary Waters Canoe Area became the norm. It was through his quiet wisdom and intimate relationship with the natural world that Olson arguably became one of the most influential and active conservationists and nature writers of the twentieth century.
               The middle of three sons, Sigurd Ferdinand Olson was born in Chicago, Illinois in April of 1899 to Lawrence J. Olson, a Swedish Baptist minister, and Ida May Cederholm. When Sigurd was seven years old, the family moved to Sister Bay on the Door County peninsula where his father’s job was to modernize the practice of the Baptist faith by introducing English language services to the congregation. From there, the Olson family moved to the small logging village of Prentice, Wisconsin before finally settling in Ashland on the shores of Chequamegon Bay. 
Sigurd’s passion and attachment for nature and outdoor recreation began at early age. With the exception of his grandmother, Olson later recalled for the Minneapolis Star that “nobody understood why on earth I had to be running off in the woods all the time.”  His father and mother held little interest in the outdoors, except to fish or picnic occasionally. And unlike his brothers, Olson’s childhood days were passionately filled with fishing, hunting, exploring, and running trap lines, a phase he termed his “Daniel Boone Days.” 
In the summer after he completed his degree at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Sigurd began to reacquaint himself with the north woods after spending the previous summers working on the farm of his future father-in-law. He was offered a job teaching animal husbandry, agricultural botany, and geology at two neighboring high schools in northern Minnesota. As soon as classes let out for the weekend he packed his camping gear and took off into the woods. 
The next summer in June 1921, Sigurd embarked on his first canoe trip into the Quetico-Superior wilderness. This trip left a profound effect on Sigurd and he documented it fairly extensively.  In one entry, the draw of the land on him is immeasurable: “This is beautiful. Everything is as God made it, untouched by man. My dreams have come true. I’ve seen wild country and have not been disappointed.” This first canoe country trip seemed to lay the foundation for a new phase in his love affair with the wilderness as well as sow the seed he felt for writing. Shortly after this trip, he published his first feature article for the Milwaukee Journal with the help of his brother describing his trip. 
After his marriage to Elizabeth Uhrenholdt in August 1921, Sigurd resumed teaching, although his thoughts rested mostly on spending more time outdoors and more time writing. To assuage his need to be outdoors, Sigurd decided that returning to Madison to become a field geologist might be the right decision. Even though his instructors left a lasting impression on him, Sigurd dropped out after one semester, likely after discovering his impending fatherhood.
Sigurd returned to teaching once more in February 1923, not because he enjoyed it, but most likely because it was a stable source of income. He and Elizabeth moved to the edge of the wilderness in Ely, Minnesota where Sigurd began teaching at the high school. It was in his outdoor classroom where Sigurd was in his element; where he could convey the sense of wonder he felt in experiencing nature first hand. 
To compensate in the summer months, Sigurd took a job as a wilderness guide, becoming intimately acquainted with all the major canoe routes, the best camp sites, the best places to fish, and the whole of the Quetico-Superior. He often turned the trips he led into more than just fishing expeditions. To him, they were opportunities to teach about the lay of the land, its geology, the flora and fauna, and its cultural history. Despite hectic summers spent as a guide, Sigurd began to find a new meaningful purpose and a sense of peace and contentment through his trips into the wilderness. To him, “wilderness is a spiritual necessity, an antidote to the high pressure of modern life, a means of regaining serenity and equilibrium.” Time spent in the outdoors became an elixir to maintain simplicity and balance in his life.
The year of 1925 marked Sigurd’s entry into the realm of conservation activism, which continued until his death in 1982. The U.S. Forest Service proposed bisecting the canoe country with roads to ease the movement of people and equipment in the event of forest fires and local business owners wanted to boost the tourism sector. Though there were areas of the region designated as wilderness areas, roads were subsequently built, opening the door for more development, considerably shrinking the American side of the Quetico-Superior Wilderness. 
In 1947, after resigning as the dean of Ely Junior College, Sigurd decided to pursue writing full-time and become a professional conservationist. In the years leading up to this decision, Sigurd had written numerous essays and articles reflecting on his life in the wilderness, the nostalgia of a bygone era, plant and animal life, and most importantly to Sigurd, the need to preserve the wilderness. In the years following 1947, Sigurd rose prominently as a writer and as a conservationist leader. The skills he had  gained as a wilderness guide and an educator also proved to be advantageous in his years as a leader of the wilderness perseveration movement, especially in defusing tension between strong-willed Congress members and environmentalists. He served as vice president and president of both the National Parks Association and the Wilderness Society and was instrumental in drafting the Wilderness Act which set the stage for the Wilderness Preservation system in the U.S. In 1978, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area was granted full wilderness status, fifty years after Sigurd’s first efforts to protect it. Throughout these years, he continued to publish many articles and essays in addition to nine books outlining the wonder and awe of nature and the wilderness. 
In the few years leading up to his death, Sigurd had been in poorer health, having undergone treatment for colon cancer in 1979 and never fully regaining his strength. At the time of his death in 1982, though, Sigurd felt well enough and decided to go for a hike on snowshoe. It was during this hike that he suffered a fatal heart attack. He had just completed his ninth and last book, Of Time and Place, published after his death. 
Sigurd Olson spent the better part of sixty years expressing the importance of wilderness preservation and simple beauty of nature itself. Through his quiet wisdom and intimate relationship with the natural world, Sigurd became one of the most influential and active conservationists and nature writers of the twentieth century. His last typed words embody the very pioneer spirit he advocated and the sense of wonder he felt at the turning point of his life. Before he left his cabin, he wrote that, “a new adventure is coming up and I know it’s going to be a good one” and that “as long as there are young men with the light of adventure in their eyes or a touch of wildness in their souls, rapids will be run.”


Quotes, timeline of events, and vision of Sigurd Olson referenced from:

Backes, David. Wilderness Within: the Life of Sigurd Olson. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. Print.

Backes, David and Sigurd Olson. The Meaning of Wilderness: Essential Articles and Speeches. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001. Print. 

The Wilderness World of Sigurd Olson. Video

29 April 2012

The Biggest Little City in the World

Well, dear friends, I come bearing good news! Many of you know from the mass email I sent out already…but I will be headed to Nevada this summer… and I cannot wait! It will definitely be unlike most places I’ve visited, but I’m looking forward to experiencing a new place, meeting new faces, being in the field, and being able to explore other places on my days off. I’ve already got visions of Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Redwood, and Sequoia National Parks in mind…

The other part, going along with being out west for the summer, is that I’ve decided to reactivate Facebook for the summer, mostly to post pictures, but also to send notes here and there when I can. I’ve no idea how often I will be able to do so, but I’ll do my best to try :)

As if going out west for the summer wasn’t good enough, I’ve also been fortunate to have quite a few eye-opening, educational, and character building experiences in the last 10 days or so. Sounds a bit like I went to a boot camp of sorts. Well… no, not really. The first couple of experiences were through a few different field trips and the last through a Leave-No-Trace training workshop I participated in this past weekend.
The first trip I took on my own with a friend. We drove to Poynette, Wisconsin where the State Game Farm is located. They are currently in the throes of hatching and rearing thousands of pheasant chicks to be released in the fall and we made it for the first hatch of the season. In one of my classes, we recently had a guest lecture from the director of the game farm. I guess you could say, I was intrigued by the operation.
Basket o' chicks
 
 We spent the morning sorting through 6,300 chicks, separating males from females. It was a blur of stripes at every turn of the head! They were pretty cute. Their peeps reminded me of the Crested Wood Partridges chicks I helped raise at the Minnesota Zoo last summer. 

If you look at the incubator, it’s amazing to think that just over 3,000 eggs fit in something the size of your refrigerator! Not only that, but that are rows of them at the game farm. And even before the eggs are placed in the incubators, they are collected, washed, checked for cracks, then sorted into baskets of about 150 – 200 eggs each, before laid in trays.



And after hatching and sorting, the chicks are brought to a brought to a brooder barn where they spend their first 20 days or so before moving in a larger room and then finally outside to finish maturing. It’s quite the process! Once the chicks were released, we had to shuffle back to the door without making a peep, or else risk having them swarm us as they are doing to the feed pan in the middle of the picture!

The other two field trips that were part of class were just as interesting and fun. For these trips we ventured to Raptor Education Group Inc. (REGI) and the International Crane Foundation (ICF), both of which were great! REGI focuses on wildlife rehabilitation and is well-known for the number of Bald Eagle they care for and release and well as their focus of wildlife education. ICF focuses their efforts on education and conservation of all 17 species of cranes around the world, especially with attempting to establish another migratory population of Whooping Cranes in addition to breeding all the species.

For me, it was interesting to compare and contrast the propagation aspects between ICF and the Game Farm, especially because their focus on breeding and chick production vary so significantly. This is not to say one is better than the other, because the Game Farm also focuses on pheasant conservation (and wildlife conservation to an extent) by promoting ethical hunting techniques, especially for youth hunters. Come fall, I’m toying with the idea participating in one of those hunting workshops…and perhaps after graduation, considering an internship with ICF. Who knows, the opportunities are endless!

As for the Leave-No-Trace (LNT) workshop, I’m still coming down from the high of spending the weekend hiking, sitting in front of a campfire, sharing different ideas related to the Leave-No-Trace ethic, playing Hillbilly Scrabble and managing to keep clear of them Gnome…People. Ok, so we took the Hillbilly Scrabble a bit far and for whatever reason, tree gnomes entered the picture and stayed for the rest of the night! Oh, and just so you know, the phrase “What happens in Vegas…” doesn’t apply only to Vegas. It is completely transferrable, and last night is one of those major you-had-to-be-there moments and as such I will leave it at that :)
 
The bottom line is that the weekend was great, the weather was great, the people were great and our ride up to Tomahawk, complete with bluegrass interludes…bomb! We got a lot of envious looks at our Volkswagon Kombi…

With that, I will leave you for now and with the promise that my profile of Sigurd Olson will be up soon. It is still going through the editing process! There will also be some photos of our LNT group, once I receive them. I forwent the camera this weekend at the risk of most likely losing it in the woods!

15 April 2012

Author Analysis: Barbara Kingsolver

A two-fer for you all today! I was re-reading some of the other writings I've done this semester and I thought I would share this piece outlining the writing of one of my favorite authors. This was one of the first assignments for my Outdoor Writing class. Enjoy!

Author Analysis: Barbara Kingsolver

            The first time I can recall seeing the name Barbara Kingsolver, I was about fifteen. I was perusing my aunt and uncle’s bookshelves, as I often did while at their house. There was always something new. I can’t say for sure what drew me to Kingsolver’s book. It must have been that it was a new book on the shelf at the time. Whatever it was, I’m glad for it. 

From the moment I first picked up The Poisonwood Bible, I knew I was hooked. Through this novel, I was introduced into a fictitious world inspired by very true political, social, and religious upheaval facing the African Congo in the early 1960s. The evolution of each character throughout the book was contagious. While this novel was a far cry from anything considered outdoor writing, Kingsolver’s ability to draw me into the story was so great that I was greedy for more of her writing.

And what a treat all of her writing has been thus far! Since that first novel, I have steadily worked my way through most of Barbara Kingsolver’s work to date, with a few exceptions of a couple works I’ve been unable to get my hands on. I’m not really sure I can pinpoint exactly what I find so enticing about Kingsolver’s writing. It is a mixture of thoughts and ideas that are simple, yet complex. A mixture of thoughts and ideas that are reflective, yet provocative. There is a frank and raw sense of wonder driven into the language she with which she writes, which ultimately makes it difficult to shy away from. 

It leaves me hungry for more. 

Kingsolver’s initial training as an ecologist and biologist have not escaped her in her literary path. As an individual studying biology myself, I am drawn to her ability to weave biological and ecological principles through her storytelling, whether fiction or non-fiction. These principles are woven into her writing either directly in the case of Prodigal Summer (fiction) and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (non-fiction) or indirectly in Animal Dreams (fiction) or Small Wonder (non-fiction essay collection). In both instances, readers of Barbara Kingsolver are enveloped and educated through narratives infused with underlying biological and ecological themes. 

Kingsolver stated once in an interview I came across, that she worries about scientific illiteracy in our country and that this was where Prodigal Summer was born from. She aimed to bridge this gap by writing a novel shrouded in basic biological concepts from speciation and natural selection to keystone predators and genetic diversity, translating austere scientific jargon into an easy-to-read novel. A casual reader probably would not have guessed that. They would have thought it was a simple story of spring and summer time, not that it was really trying to describe nature in its prime or man’s ongoing feud with it. Even the title of the book is suggestive of its contents. Prodigal in Kingsolver’s mind was not about returning home. Rather, it is a succinct word for all that nature is in its height: “recklessly productive, prolific, lavish, wastefully extravagant” to quote Kingsolver.

I am currently working my way through Small Wonder. In reading these essays, I cannot help but feel there is flair reminiscent of Rachel Carson emanating through Kingsolver’s words. Each essay is poignant and full of a sense of hope. These essays were written just after the September 11th attacks when hope was in full swing, not only for man, but also for the environment in which we live. They aim to remind readers that beauty still exists in a world that has been irrevocably scarred. 

I think this is what I like most about Kingsolver’s writing overall. She is an exquisite weaver of stories and narratives, both fictional and non-fictional. No matter how strong or ill-fated her subject is, there is always a positive sense of hope ringing through.

And I am left feeling content.  

"Why Wilderness?"

First things first, I feel I should apologize for the changing template. I am still reacquainting myself with some of the features on Blogger...that and I am a bit curious. So, as a head's up, don't be surprised if it changes again.

At the moment, things are going well as can be. The sun was shining yesterday and little today. Got my first minor sunburn of the year. I've been riding my bicycle (imagine this being said in the voice of Freddie Mercury). Saw a Red-tail hauling a stick for a nest. Saw a great performance by a local author/humorist/amateur farmer. Life is good.

So why is it that I still feel like a lump at times? I'm still trying to figure this one out.

Even though I realize it is somewhat unhealthy, mentally speaking, I bottle most of my thoughts, until at some point the top blows. Intuitively I know internalizing everything won't solve much, but at the same time it is good as any tactic to avoid proverbial elephants that are taking up space when you a strapped for time. Hence why I keep doing it. I don't think I mean to. It just happens. And I think it happens more than most people like to admit.

I am sure most people, myself included, are fortunate to have unwavering and compassionate support systems, whether they recognize it or not. I am in the I-often-forget-I-have-this-person-or-that-person-I-can-talk-category. As a result, thoughts, feelings, emotions are filed away for inevitable eruption.

One reason, I think, for our (and my) bottling up things is that we are conditioned early on not to talk to much about ourselves, try to draw attention to ourselves and to be strong in undesirable circumstances. How many times have you deflected compliments meant for you specifically? I am famously guilty of this. It is hard to accept something you yourself don't believe is true, even though something deep inside tells you it must be so or else you wouldn't have received the praise. This is why it can be hard, say, to write a cover letter or to interview for a job. Instead of imposing self-importance, we are often taught to be considerate and respectful to others.

So where is the happy medium between all of this? Where do all of our thoughts, ideas, opinions, feelings lurk, if not in the back of our minds (or in cyber space)? How do we overcome this? Some of us hold it in, then blow our tops; some of us wear our emotions at the front; some of us write. I am trying to get better with the last in order to avoid the first. I pride myself in the fact that I was once fairly good at keeping a daily journal, but have since fallen away from that.

It's said the bad habits are hard to break, but what about trying form good ones? Why is that equally as hard? I've often asked myself this and have yet to find an answer, even after much effort. If anyone has any insight or secret recipes they'd be willing to share, it would be greatly appreciated!

A preview of things to come: yes, I know! At moment, I am working a piece of writing profiling the life of Sigurd F. Olson, renowned as a nature writer and wilderness conservationist, for one of my classes that I'm rather excited about. Once the final touches have been added, I'll be posting it for your reading pleasure.

If you have not had the chance to read any of his work, I would definitely recommend it! There is a flare of simple elegance and quiet wisdom that permeates through the pages of his books and essays. Any lover of the outdoors is sure to feel something close to kinship as they read about the haunting warbling of loons or the flickering dance of the northern lights.

I'll leave you with one the quotes from Olson that I find fitting, especially for my ever-evolving environmental ethic:
"Wilderness is a spiritual necessity, an antidote to the high pressure of modern life, a means of regaining serenity and equilibrium."

 

25 March 2012

Wake up! Wake up!


It’s official. Spring has sprung! Technically, it has for the last few days. However, not until now have I finally been in the mindset for it. I’ve been in denial, even with the warm, sunny days we’ve had. I was trying to maintain a little flame in hopes of one last winter flare up, but alas, it’s been snuffed out.

Everything is greening up…fast! Buds are popping out on the trees, tulips are peaking out from leaf beds, peepers and chorus frogs have begun their daily symphony under the stars, and farmers are in the fields, spreading manure or plowing (as I saw one Amish farmer doing on the drive back home for break).


How could one remain in denial after seeing this?

And the days are becoming longer! Forgot that one. It is doing wonders for my psyche. The late winter drear is always the worst, mostly because you know the end is near. To get out and enjoy part of the day after class has been great also! I broke out my bike again too, so a little more exercise doesn’t hurt either :) I put away some of the winter gear too (not that there were ample opportunities to use it) but still, I was able to pack it away for the most part. 

Ok I’m going to switch gears a bit…but it is related to spring in a round-about way in that the vernal season just brings giddy child-like enthusiasm to the surface.

A while back I wrote about finding my inner child through pottery painting. Well, I found another piece of it this weekend as a friend and I were hiking along the St. Croix River. The trail we hiked along was carved into the face of a limestone cliff that rose up from the river and was covered in bits of the broken limestone. A few times, we stopped to marvel at how calm the river was in the early evening. We looked down at the trail and then back at each other, sharing the same thought.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is something ridiculously satisfying about whipping a rock as far as you can into water. For me, the urge to throw a rock is no different from swiping a finger through a freshly frosted cake or blowing on a dandelion puff ball. I am inexplicably drawn and overcome with the need to do it. Consequences (if there were any) be damned! The itch to do it will never cease until you do it.

One of our hypotheses (other than the urge) was the sploosh of the rock as it plunges into the water. You know what I am talking about.

I was also tempted to climb down to the water’s edge more than once to scope out some nice, flat stones. Although I am horrible at it, I love skipping stones. With the water so still, it would have been perfect! Again with the urges…

In addition to finding another bit of my inner child on this hike, I also had WOW (wildlife of the week) moment! Most of you know I have an almost absurd infatuation with raptors, and well, Bald Eagles are no exception. While we were hiking, I heard that distinctive cackling. I stopped to listen for moment, heard it again, and whipped my head upward. There were two eagles soaring probably no more than 20 yards above us. They were so close you could hear the whoosh as they dived and then powerful flapping of their wings after before they were out of sight. I can still hear it if I listen carefully.

I wish I had thought about it at the time, but in the words of Ronald Weasley….Wicked! (Just for you, Mandy :) Oh and for those of you who are also hopelessly enchanted with the world of Harry Potter!)
On a completely unrelated note…I have confession to make. I’ve broken my Facebook hiatus, if only for a few moments. At the time I took leave from Facebook, quite a few friends have had or have been having babies, and since then I’ve also been hearing through some grapevines, that more friends are now expecting. Needless to say, curiosity has gotten the best of me. 

I have no intentions of making Facebook a daily habit again, but since logging back in, I have yet to deactivate it and to go back on it since I first logged in again last week. I have been thinking on and off about slowing reintroducing myself, not quite sure yet though. We’ll see if that day comes. For now, I’m opting not to deactivate it again, mostly as a test. 

Wish me luck!

04 March 2012

Reader Beware: Must be 21 or older to read!


Oh my goodness! It’s already March! I’m alive, I promise. I hope those of you have been following are doing well. HOW ARE YOU???
This past month has slipped away, almost literally I’d argue, especially with all the times I’ve very (un)-gracefully landed on my behind while walking to and from class. We’ve been so spoiled with nice, sunny weather in between all the little bursts of snow that I almost entirely forget about the ice that reforms overnight. And while I am really enjoying this nice, lovely weather, it kind of freaks me out a little also for obvious reasons. I hope we can at least get enough of a snowpack so that I might be able to break out the snowshoes at least once this year! I'm more than a bit jealous of all the snow they got at the lake in the past week and not being able tromp around it...
As predicted, the semester is proving to be a busy one (like all of them!), hence the month—long—wait. I know, I know, excuses, right? Perhaps a little…it has been nice out also, after all… At any rate, a busy semester…’nuff said! J
I think we the exception of physics, I am enjoying my classes for the most part. Although—side note, here!—as much as I gripe about physics, I did have an “Aha!” Light bulb moment last week, so I guess not all is as lost as I thought. My two writing courses are probably my favorites I’d say. I geeked out a bit last time over them, so I will spare you the rambling if only to say that thoughtfulness, creativity, and horrible puns know no bounds!
If anything hasn’t been school related in the last month, I probably haven’t done it…Oh wait! There have been a few events of note…probably the most prominent of them being the annual Schell Brewery Bockfest in New Ulm, MN. While it was an excuse to consume awesome beer and spend time with some great people, there is also interesting historical and cultural significance to the creation and seasonality of bock beer. (This is going to be the geeky note!)
As one could guess from the name alone, New Ulm is a town rooted deep in German tradition. It also happened to be co-founded by August Schell. Soon after, Schell founded the brewery in 1860, the oldest in Minnesota and second oldest in the country. Today, the brewery, and all of the buildings near to it, including the Schell Mansion are some of the oldest buildings in the region. During the Sioux Uprising, all of the buildings were spared because of the initial hospitality and kindness of the Schell family had shown to the Dakota Sioux as the brewery was first becoming established. To the right is a photo of the brewery in the 1930s.
So the creation of bock? Well, the exact circumstances surrounding the origins are little hazy, but it is said to have been first brewed as a heavy lager in the town of Einbeck in the 14th century. It was designed to provide sustenance for monks during Lenten fasts. In the 17th century, brewers in Munich adopted the Einbeck beer, and due to the heavy Bavarian accents, it was pronounced like “Ein bock.” Literally translated, bock means “goat” in German, which is why there are often goats in the labels of bock beers as a sort of visual pun.
Another part of the historical and cultural tradition of bock beer is that is traditionally brewed in the fall, left to ferment over winter and the tapping of it in late winter/early spring signifies the end of winter and beginning of spring. This also coincides with the celebration Fasching (aka Fasnet, a dialectic version from Swabia, is how I learned it from my host family) or what is also commonly known as German Mardi Gras on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. This festival commemorates the expulsion of bad spirits of winter (death, darkness, destruction) in order to allow the annual life cycle (resurrection—think of the green up in spring!) to begin again. People dress up as witches or evil spirits in order to symbolically drive out the evil spirits. The name of the festival refers to fasting during the Lenten season, where Christians traditionally abstained from meat, alcohol, and festivities until Easter and the resurrection of Jesus. Altogether, Fasnet combines both pagan and Christian beliefs to symbolize the coming of the new annual cycle.
So in New Ulm, the Bock fest is always held the Saturday before Lent and Fasching celebrations, which are also held throughout the day. My day spent at the brewery was awesome and not only for the cultural and historical notes. The costumes of some of the people there were the highlights, actually, along with the polka band! However, I don’t think I’ll able to listen to “the Ring of Fire” for a very long time. I lost track of how many times I heard it after about the 12th time!

The first thing I noticed after hopping off our bus was that I was a bit underdressed compared to most people, especially without a bomber hat (I'll be prepared next year!). Just about everyone was a wearing one. Some people even had homemade ones made from Schell beer boxes and lined with fur! And if people weren’t wearing bomber hats, most were wearing football-type helmets adorned with deer antlers or other animals (saw a crow and a cat at some point throughout the day). One man standing behind us in line was wearing a fedora with a squirrel lying belly up, drinking from a Schell can. Beside this there was also a group of people wearing traditional Fasnet costumes with the wooden masks! (You can imagine my excitement!) I wanted to get a picture, but sadly didn’t trust myself to bring my camera and the phone died!

Here are what many Fasnet costumes look like though (these photos were shamelessly pilfered from Google images)

So….that was a very lengthy Geek Note. Wow, apologies on that one. When I’m not enjoying a good beer fest, though, it’s been all about school to be sure and work, of course. Oh, and still applying for jobs for the summer. I’m beginning to become a little disheartened with each passing day and no bites on the lines I keep dropping…Hopefully it will all pay off soon though!

Now, back to that thing called homework...

Bis dann!...Or BOCK ON!