Thu 2 May This morning there was great excitement as we went out to prepare for the morning commute of the Caretaker's Wife and saw that the high water had receded so much during the night that we could wade out to get the ferry. The river level had dropped to 5.6 and thus just within the margin of safety to use the hand-pulled ferry. Having had to dress up for professional reasons... the Caretaker's Wife was especially relieved to avoid a wet canoe ride in the rain to get to the towpath. We little noticed the freshening wind from downriver... and it was not until we got mid-river that we realized we were in trouble. Usually in high water the ferry can be manoeuvred and "crabbed" at a 45-degree angle to the current and the full force of the fast river is avoided. This morning the wind from downriver was so strong as to keep the rear of the ferry from trailing in the current and the full body of the ferry at a right angle to the full force of the river... and getting the ferry across the racing water and back without losing it was a close run thing.

Yet again the river serves as a continuing teacher. Although the river can display many aspects... one should never forget that it deserves constant respect and attention as a "Force of Nature." Farmers and other country folk live in intimate contact with, and awareness of, the forces of nature... but those of us herded into large urban reservations by commercial forces frequently spend our time shuttling back and forth between climate controlled boxes... and Nature is something we must go out of our way to seek. Usually we are surprised... delighted... and awed to discover Nature while she is being "forceful"... but also generally clueless that the margins of safety can be much less than modern life prepares us for. Last week there was some second-guessing because the Captain cancelled the Spring Workfest when the river was at 4.8 because amateur Member ferrypersons would have to run the ferry. Today was a lesson regarding the big difference a small and unforeseen detail can make in the margins of safety... such as... wind direction. Today a professional ferryman was humbled at 5.6. Last week the Captain made the right call at 4.8.

Sat 4 May Last night the Big Beaver had waited as I stopped to talk to the geese... and then startled me as he calmly resumed eating when I resumed my approach, moving into activity so as to signal his presence... such that I not inadvertently enter his intimate space. We were only parted by a dozen spaces and I was honoured he felt comfortable enough to resume eating in my presence. Of course... he had nothing to fear... being as big as any large dog with short legs and obviously believing himself to be the dominant species on the Island. He was grazing on herbaceous perennials as though they were salad... eating them like asparagus by chomping from the tip down... baby asters and milkweed... the latter surprising because it is noted for being toxic. After he left I walked over to inspect the area he had just ambled off from and realized that for years I have seen such grazings but had never understood what they were. The joy of such epiphanies is always followed by the depressing and humbling realization of how little of what is seen is actually understood.

Mon 6 May He knew he was in real trouble as soon as he said it. And we are talking big trouble... the "go to your room without dinner" kind of trouble. It had started innocently enough... a stroll before dinner. But suddenly... a crow swooped down and carried off a gosling that had wandered away from the main gosling herd. There was honking and squawking and goose general alarm noise and the Caretaker's Wife was off like a shot! My God... it was a real life burglary in process. It was all the Caretaker could do to keep up as she "vaulted" tree trunks in pursuit. It was a vision to behold... not even Hill Street Blues could portray such an adrenaline rush in the pursuit of a villain... and the kidnapper had good reason to fear as the Caretaker's Wife chased the poor crow from tree to tree, demanding that the hapless gosling be dropped in a tone that on the streets would surely be translated as "stop or I'll shoot!" Finally, by tree number three the crow got smart and realized he was dealing with an avenging angel... a certified force of nature... and wisely ditched the poor gosling as he fled behind some dense leaf cover. The rescue effort then became a search effort... but despite lengthy efforts... the dropped gosling could not be located in the lush foliage. That was when the Caretaker's words mindlessly escaped: "Well... crows gotta eat too." Fortunately... he was only sentenced to review those lines from The Fools Prayer:

The ill-timed truth we might have kept-
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say-
Who knows how grandly it had rung?

Fri 10 May River conservation is not a question or conflict of resources... it is a question of values. Should one generation fail to win the field... or even to stem the tide... then the primary responsibility is to safeguard and transmit those values through the next generation. Even if all we can aspire to is to stand as Horatio at the bridge... it is still we who must empower the next generation to wrest salvation from human greed and ignorance on behalf of Mother Earth. Some spiritual disciplines teach that greed is simply ignorance. The problem is not resources... but values: Teach The Children !!!

Excerpted from the Caretaker's Log at sycamoreisland.org

-- Doc Taliaferro, Sycamore Island Caretaker