Northern Woodlands

Purchase this book:
IndieBound | Powell’s Books | Amazon

America’s Forested Wetlands; From Wasteland to Valued Resource

I must admit to harboring serious skepticism when I saw this book from the Forest History Society. How could anyone summarize the history of American attitudes and public policies toward the nation’s wetlands in a mere 60 pages? Few natural resource management issues are more complex and politically controversial than the use and protection of wetlands, since they’re inextricably interwoven with issues of forest and wildlife management, agriculture, and land development nationwide.

But if anyone could tackle this policy arena in a concise manner, it would be historian Jeffrey Stine. Presently the curator for Environmental History and chair of the division of medicine and science at the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History, Stine has a significant professional resume, including major publications on the history of science and environmental policy. A reading of his professional biography and a quick review of the 50 “suggested readings” at the end of the book will temper any skepticism you might have about this slim volume.

Stine’s introduction and first chapter chronicle the turbulent history of popular attitudes and public policy toward wetlands, from early settlement to the late 20th century – a period when most public policy sought to transform these lands for agriculture and development. At the time of European settlement, wetlands covered 11 percent of the present nation, some 221 million acres. By the end of the 20th century, these wetlands had been reduced by over 50 percent to 105 million acres. Stine concludes that “to the extent that wetlands constituted a public policy concern prior to the 1960s, they were largely within a framework of elimination.”

He describes the astounding exploitation of the nation’s wetland forests, primarily by logging and conversion of southern wetlands for agriculture. It was especially dramatic in cypress swamps from 1890 to 1925, with cypress lumber production exceeding 1 billion board feet in 1913.

Next, he examines the gradual awareness in the early 20th century that the destruction of wetlands was having major negative impacts on wildlife, especially waterfowl. Numerous conservation organizations, such as the National Wildlife Federation and the Izaak Walton League, along with biologists in several federal agencies, were instrumental in passage of the Migratory Bird Hunting Stamp Act, enacted by Congress in 1934 to raise funds for wetlands conservation. The several successful attempts to craft wetlands protection in the 1970s and 1980s are credited with reducing the rate of net acres lost, notably the implementation of best management practices in the 1977 Clean Water Act. These efforts were further supported by the growing understanding of the role of wetlands in reducing coastal storm damage and recharging aquifers.

Stine describes the policy debates at all levels of government – from local communities to the Supreme Court – and the myriad attempts to conserve remaining wetlands by regulation, landowner incentives, public or private acquisition, and litigation. In summarizing these debates, he cites a statement by two legal scholars in 1995: “Wetlands conservation and regulation may be the most controversial issue in constitutional law. It pits America’s most biologically productive and rapidly diminishing ecosystems against the rights of private ownership and property development….” These tensions remain, echoing ancient negative attitudes toward “swamps,” and repeatedly resulting in ineffective policy compromises that fail to adequately protect these vital wildland resources.

The final two chapters sum up where we are today, citing progress to date and the increasing support of conservation organizations, forest industry, and government agencies for wetlands conservation. But the controversy remains. Even though growing ecological knowledge is aiding efforts to protect and restore wetlands, Stine concludes that “the contest over wetlands is neither a scientific nor a technical debate but a political one.” 

Stine has written a remarkably balanced and perceptive analysis of wetlands history and policy. It is an essential primer for landowners, journalists, government decision makers, foresters, and wildlife managers who can make a difference in resolving our nation’s most significant remaining natural resources protection and management challenge. 

This book is available for purchase from The Forest History Society

Carl Reidel

© 2009 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author’s consent.

Purchase this book:
IndieBound | Powell’s Books | Amazon

Not Your Average Bear & Other Maine Stories

If James MacGillivray, creator of the Paul Bunyan tales, were to collaborate on a book with Stephen King and the Brothers Grimm, the result might be something like this collection of stories by Jerry Stelmok. Indeed, in Stelmok’s fictional world, where deer become men and where the cab of a plow truck provides the setting for an encounter with the devil on a stormy night, such a collaboration would be entirely possible. Each of the stories – five set in Maine and one on the shore of Lake Superior – begins with a firm grounding in realistic details of character and place, but none stays in familiar territory for long.

In “Maxfield Ridge,” the most enchanting story in the collection, we meet Matt Nichols, a decent, sensible fellow who works for the telephone company. When he’s sent out on a rainy November afternoon to repair some equipment near an abandoned farm, he takes his deer rifle along, and, as he’s finishing the job, he spots a handsome buck. A skilled hunter, Nichols finds the buck unusually elusive. Stelmok describes the hunt in some detail, lingering on features of the landscape and on Nichols’ thoughts as he tries to account for the deer’s movements. Finally, the hunter gets off a clean shot. And the story takes a most unexpected turn. Trying to discover the truth about what has occurred, Nichols is drawn into the history of the old farm. When a mysterious crone tells him of the strange goings-on of its most recent inhabitants, he can’t quite believe her story, but he can’t dismiss it, either. The truth proves to be as elusive as the deer itself.

The title story is what used to be called a rippin’ good yarn. “Not Your Average Bear” starts quietly, with Stelmok’s signature evocation of place: “A wet wind, raw for so early in September, swept across the lake and lashed a small knot of men engaged in a discussion of obvious gravity. . . . Inland, just beyond the beach, was an impressive stand of white pine and red spruce that marched in an uninterrupted phalanx over a series of drumlins before continuing up the gentle flanks of the mountain, where they disappeared behind curtains of low scudding clouds.” From there, the story escalates to a horrific tale of greed and revenge that ultimately pits the cocky woodsman Jean Batiste against a bear of uncanny size, ferocity, and intelligence. While it is hard to sympathize with the men, a reader isn’t exactly rooting for the bear that terrorizes them, either. 

These are all, in various ways, stories of deterioration, of things going from bad to worse. While some of the characters, like Jean Batiste, deserve the trouble that finds them, others, like Mary Brighton of “Maggie” or Larry Schneider of “The North Shore,” clearly do not. A lonely farm woman, Mary is guilty of nothing worse than marrying the wrong man. And steady, gum-chewing Larry has changed his ways since the youthful sin for which he’s being so ominously called to account. In Stelmok’s stories, the natural world might be a beautiful place, but human life is precarious and strange.

For all its bleakness, the collection ends with a good laugh, when Willie, the inept main character of “The Three Requests,” hits upon an unusual way to get out of a tight spot. While trying hard to honor his mother’s death-bed requests, Willie finds himself rushing to the hospital with a screaming young woman in the back seat of his car. She’s in the throes of labor, and he’s lost in a tangle of back roads. Getting his car stuck on the ice while attempting to turn around, Willie does something unthinkable but eminently practical. It’s macabre, but it is funny.

Catherine Tudish

© 2009 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author’s consent.

Purchase this book:
IndieBound | Powell’s Books | Amazon

AMC’s Complete Guide to Trail Building & Maintenance— Fourth Edition

I started hiking in the late 1940s and early 1950s when owning a customized pair of leather boots made by Peter Limmer was every hiker’s ultimate goal. Owners exhibited their creativity by personalizing the patterns of the hobnails they hammered into the leather soles. We didn’t realize it then, but these hobnails scratched every rock and scarified the soil.

Back then, many trails were the shortest distance between two points, and on steep slopes, some of these trails were knee-deep trenches from erosion. It was in 1973, while I was hiking the northern third of the Appalachian Trail, that I first noticed improvements in trail layout and maintenance.

What a long way we have come. This fourth edition of the AMC’s Complete Guide to Trail Building & Maintenance by the staff of the Appalachian Mountain Club’s trails department is encyclopedic as it covers in detail almost everything a trail builder or maintainer needs to know.

The guide emphasizes the control of water. In the real estate mantra, the three most important words are “location, location, location.” In laying out and maintaining trails and woods roads, the mantra is “water, water, water.” Volume and velocity need to be constant considerations. The best way to see how water and soil are moving is to get out in a heavy rainstorm or immediately thereafter.

Though the Guide gets the big things right, I do have some nit-picking:

I take exception to the Guide’s description of logging as “an incompatible use” and the subsequent recommendation to buffer the trail from logging activities. I submit that signs discussing the myriad uses of wood products in our lives, the need for early successional forests for diversity of wildlife habitat, and the important role of the forest-products industry in the rural economy would be educational to an increasingly urbanized society.

Also, the Guide’s advice to “turn off your saw when moving between cuts” is out of date and impractical if you want to get much work done. The invention of the chain break allows you to safely stop the chain from moving between cuts with a quick snap of the wrist.

On pruning, they say, “Limbs or branches should not be cut flush…Leave a small amount of stem…” This also outdated piece of advice could lead people to leave stubs, which can help spread decay organisms. The proper technique for limbing is to cut just outside the branch collar, the swelling where branch meets trunk.

Still, this is a very useful book for trail builders and maintainers. And it’s not just for hiking trails, either, as the section on ski trails is very detailed and complete.

The authors make two very important points: over the years, wear and tear is going to cause erosion; it’s crucial, therefore, to consider who is going to be responsible for maintenance after the trail is built. 

Put Blodgett  

© 2009 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author’s consent.