WannaskaWriter

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Winter Returns Along Mikinaak Creek February 8-9th, 2024

This is the first channel wide moving water I've seen since the spring of 2023 --and it's in February! On maps, the creek (or ‘crick' depending on your dialect) is spelled ‘Mickinock’ for the Anishinaabe man who lived at the Indian camp at Ross, but had seasonal camps around Wannaska and other places. The Euro-American immigrants who homesteaded here in Roseau County called him ‘Chief,’ but he may have been just a spokesperson who knew enough English to get things done peacefully and simultaneously meet the needs of his people; the word, ‘chief' was often used in derision of any Indigenous male adult. I spell Mikinaak the Ojibwe way, in a gesture of respect; what the Dakota, who were here before the Anishinaabeg/Chippewa, called this place, this body of moving water I don’t know; just as I don’t know who came before them exactly. I was told that one of Mikinaak's camps were here on our place in Palmville Township. Its location was pointed out to me exc

Landfill Fodder

Landfill Fodder I found several old books like this in a tumbledown house on a farm that I was invited to walk before the land was cleared of trees, antique farm equipment, and two old houses. The place proved to provide a treasure trove of stories over the years. Many of the books were moldy; the pages stuck together until I dried them in the sun several days. I carefully pulled the pages apart that I could; these were just a sampling, poor as they are. I think "Jack and Alice" preceded "Dick and Jane." This page reads 'ORAL EXERCISES.' "How many persons do you see in this picture?" "Is the boy's name Jack?" "Is the girl's name Alice?" "Jack is Alice's brother." "What relation is Alice to Jack?" "Where is Alice sitting? What does she hold in her lap? What is she doing?Is Jack sitting or standing? What is he doing? How does he do it? What other way is there of spinning a t

New Realities. Old Realities.

"I can make out the noise of the tractor somewhere in the darkness." I can hear a big tractor working a field a half mile away as the farmer takes advantage of the lack of snow cover and warm November temperatures of 40-45 F. I am deer hunting, enclosed in one hundred sixty acres of trees, brush and wetland, with several hundreds of similar acres behind me. Southwest of our place is an intersection of two roads where on-coming vehicles often the hit rumble strips preceding the stop sign, or truckers use their engine-brake for reasons known only to themselves. This increased vehicle activity, so natural in the spring of the year, seems quite alien now. I would wear ear plugs to drown out the unnatural man-made noises, but listening to what’s going on around me during hunting season is important just as deer and other animals must accept its presence in their world and gauge what threatens them -- as if their lives depended on it. Sometimes, vehi

Excerpt from A Long Unexpected Walk Home

Again, the man wasn’t ready with his camera and another large angular blue-gray bird, a Great Blue Heron, flew from the water-filled ditch and away from view. Argh. The man’s companion on his unexpected long walk home from deer camp was a female Chesapeake/Lab mix dog of unquestionable character and temperament who had suddenly knelt and rolled onto her back and began squirming uninhibitedly, all four legs flapping in wild abandon as she ground some foul invisible scent into her shiny long-haired coat, her eyes closed, her tongue lolling, in sensual gratification known to but a very few fortunate canines along this stretch of county road. She owed this instantaneous indulgence to her distant cousins fox, coyote, and wolf, one of whom may well have created this secret drop ’n roll spot for just such carnal pleasure, for feral animals have their compulsions too. Wouldn’t it resolve a lot of marital problems in today’s society if spouses so infidelity-inclined had such unobtrusive

Employee Number XXXXX

Brushing her hair from her eyes she entered the gates of the factory holding her picture ID so the security guard could see it as she and the other employees passed by. Her dredlocks and beads slipped back and forth over her shoulders when she turned her head to enter an opened door into the facility. Tall and fit her gait matched that of the men; hers was a forward thoughtful measured stride; the full cut of her black multi-strapped and zippered pantlegs amplifying her every step. Her chalky white and olive skin stretched tightly across a round cheeked clear complexioned face, wide nose and full lips; her eyes an expressive dark brown like the color of her hair that day something that was subject to change it would be apparent as the weeks and months pass by. As if apart from this adjoining crowd its other members impatiently milling about or wandering away toward the confectionary machines and restroom facilities a short distance away she sits down by herself her denim jacket acros

Palmville Bison: Hiding In Plain Sight

Herd Bull and Cow I didn't see them when I took this picture, but just to the right of center, the dark rectangular shape in the deciduous trees, the white largest orb is one of the bison's right eye, the faint orb is a glimmer of its left eye as though it's looking at the camera. The dark bison's nose is hidden behind a spruce tree. See the top of its head and the arc of its right horn below which is a light green serious-looking white-eyed bison in the background staring directly at the camera, its nose halved by foreground trees. Upon closer examination now there appears a third bison, an emerald green-color bovine head shape at maybe a 30-degree angle emanating from the upper left corner . Imagine a triangle, from its right eye about half of the way down from the corner, to its left eye slightly above it a third of the way down in the image, to its left nostril hidden in the lighter shade wetland grasses in the bottom.