A LOCAL VOICE

SOME ARE TREES                                                               Gary Egger

 WELCOME to this first issue of A LOCAL VOICE The idea for this paper stems from a road trip to the southern tip of New Zealand's South Island. That's Down Under, only farther down and more under. Despite the upside down sky and the walking birds, the left side driving and the forty five million sheep where the Holsteins here would be, there is still similarity and certain things you ought to know whether you travel nearly at the bottom of the world, or here nearer the top. First, you need a good map. Getting lost is not always a waste of time, but it's surely best when you can pinpoint your place, and find your way home when you want. Then you need to know about the lay of the land,  how time and our own hands change what you see. As for people who live here, there is a lineage for some that allows a photo of five generations; that will get you back only to the steam engine. Five more will get you past the river boats bringing our first farmers, then five more to the first Europeans, the French, who came upon The Lake of Tears, now Lake Pepin in 1680. But before them as many generations of Mdewakanton with their acute prairie and woodland skills, and before them the Mound Builders, also farmers with a thriving and sophisticated culture that flourished here for perhaps six centuries. Also, it's important that you know something about the night sky, to help you get your bearings and to remind you of what endures. When you see the Northern Cross for the first time, perhaps you'll understand now why you came this way. Of course you'll want to know where the fun stuff is, who makes the food, who sings, and how the artists and writers see this world. Remember, this isn't everything you need to know as you pass through, but only the very least. Let your travels along the Great River Road be the next good chapter.

    Muscatine                                                                                     G. Egger                

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Keep Your Eyes Open in the Daylight for these Four Raptors.

  

 In flight, Turkey Vultures’ wingbeats are clumsy and slow, they look unsteady

and rock, but in a thermal they glide and soar with great grace and beauty.           

 A group is called a Venue, when circling, a Kettle. Their circling does not always mean the presence 
of a carcass; they may be gaining altitude for long flights, searching for food, or just playing.  

They are usually silent but do hiss and cluck.

You’ll know the Marsh Hawk by it’s white rump, narrow tail, and broad wings. Audubon 
describes it’s coursing flight this way...though light and elegant, it cannot be said 
to be swift or strong. While searching for prey, it performs most of it’s rambles by rather 
irregular sailings; by which I mean it frequently deviates from a straight course, peeping 
hither and thither among the tall grasses of  the marsh, prairie, meadows, or along 
 briary edges of our fields... He would sometimes see forty at one time.  
Now, with fewer marshes as well, it is referred to as the Northern Harrier. 
Slender and buoyant on wing, it will capture it’s prey with a sudden pounce. 
When you have the chance stop, and watch one fly.

Our smallest and most common falcon is the American Kestrel (Falco sparverius) 

and can be seen perched on a wire or a pole bobbing it’s tail, 
or hovering over it’s next meal, most often a rodent or an insect. 
It is perhaps the most colorful raptor in the world:

 speckled steel grey wings, orange and rufous sides and back,

 with white and black bars beneath .  It is about the size of a robin.

When you see a large and conspicuous hawk, with stocky, broad wings and

broad tail, the streaked belly band will tell you, but it’s most fun when it turns just so
 and you see why it’s named  the Red-Tailed Hawk, the Buteo to which all  others  are compared. 
It will kite, hang in the wind, as it hunts. It’s voice is a long, distant sounding,  rasping,  
scraping scream, that falls in pitch and intensity, a cheeeeeeewv! high above your head  

that makes you look up.

The Night Sky in August

Phoebe Flying

SPARROWS AND THEIR ALLIES

When You travel this stretch of the River, it’s often the big birds that will capture your attention;  who hasn’t marveled at an eagle and thought better of the day. But these small, sometimes secretive ground dwellers, should also delight you. Watch them hop-scratch and kick leaves back to uncover food. The Grasshopper likes dense grasses and has an insect like buzzing song tik tuk tikeeeeeeez. Or listen for the Tree Sparrow call a soft, jingling teedleoo. Of course the Chipping’s call is a sharp chip but it’s song is a long, simple, beautiful trill. The Savannah gathers in  small flocks and will give you a series of descending buzzes, ti ti ti tseeeeeee tisoooooo.... 

                                                                                            

“We do not go to the green woods and crystal waters to rough it,
 we go to smooth it.  We get it rough enough at home in the city.”
Nessmuk

Maiden Rock and Hwy 35       Fryklund Photography      Stockholm, Wisconsin    1946

  

GIGOSHUGUMOT     MA--YA--SA  WA--KPA‘     WAN--HIN--KPE  KA--GA--PI    WIN--YAN  

PSI-CA TAN--KA  MDE       MISHA  MOKWA   PA--HIN’   WA-KPA’  DAN      IN’-- YAN  TI--YO’-- PA 

Through the means of these Dakota and Ojibwa place-names, the land will be made to give up its silence to speak out, to tell of a land peopled by spirits and alive again with laughing children, tipis, and dusky warriors. These names are a witness to the sound of the flute, its folklore and spiritual beliefs. It has been said the frontiers of speech are the only real ones, for we carry them with us. Language is the vehicle of tradition; it might even be said that language is tradition itself, the living past.

-- 

Paul Durand,  from the introduction to Where the Waters Gather and the Rivers Meet                       Drawings    Rene Durand

                                                                            

                                                                                                                                   

            

Near Lincoln, Near Longfellow                                                                                   Gary Egger