Buffalo Springtime

The kindly faithful light returns.
Morning returns and the forgiving season.
The pastures turn green, again. Blossom
And leafbud gentle the harsh woods.
The warm breezes return to the cold river.
The phoebe returns to the porch.
And I return again to my window…

Wendell Berry
(from the poetry collection “Given”)

I paid the 25 cents for the copy of my land survey and left the Sauk County office building. Outside, the Wisconsin spring was deciding to have a winter flashback. No worries though, for that same day I had seen the first green buds in my woods. They were fat buds on a scrawny scrap of a tree. Big, green, plump, wonderful fat buds. The lakes had melted and now these buds.

Snowflakes teased the wind outside, but seedling prayers were growing and with them the big fat buds of springtime on planet earth. And today also, now this news...from the casual banter in the Sauk County land survey office sprouted this big, green, plump, wonderful news.

I will explain. You see, near my house in Wisconsin, about a mile and a long-throw-of-a-small-rock away, you'll find the Badger Army Ammunition Plant. Over 7000 tired acres in the southern shadow of the towering glacier bluffs, this land has been sequestered and quarantined for decades. Sacred Indian grounds once wove this land like patchwork, but these memories were long since forsaken. Instead, from 1942 to 1975, this land lived its days making ordnance for World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. Production included single- and double-propellants for cannons, rockets, and small arms weapons. During the cold war, it was on the "hot list" for potential sites of nuclear attack, as apparently this land had proved its mettle in the business of warfare.

This soldier-land retired in 1976. Contaminated. Tired. Yet still fenced in, looking out into a world that had moved on without it.

But now this news. This big, green, plump, wonderful news. In the Sauk County office, waiting for my land survey, I asked, "Do you all know if there are any plans yet for the Badger Ammunition Plant?" The answer came quickly, because just last month the official agreement was signed after years and years of debate and compromise. As surprising as fat green buds on a scrawny scrap of a tree, the news was good. Very good indeed. The land is to be split 3-ways: the US Department of Agriculture will study cow feed in the first, the DNR will extend a channel of Devil's Lake State Park all the way south to Lake Wisconsin in the second, and finally the Ho-Chunk Indian Nation will reclaim the third.

But on this third part (and here is where I shake my head and verily chuckle at the nature of answered prayer), the Ho-Chunk will not only restore their sacred land, but they will restore a prairie full of buffalo. Yes, it is true. No casinos. No cement. No condominiums. Instead, Buffalo.

I envision and trust that the Creator made the land we call America not to be a juggernaut converting the rest of the world with politics and ordnance, but rather a sacred land (as all land should be). It has always been a sacred land; we just have not treated it so. We humans are not generally fair and not generally humble. We are often harsh, like a long winter with short days and cold nights. But spring finds a way, again as always.

I close my eyes and envision the future of buffalo dotting my landscape like those fat green buds on a tree resurrected by spring.

The Greening Begins

Some weeks thawed along between the news of the Buffalo and my dad's birthday, May 12. Three score and ten plus one he is, but no old man (despite his claims to the contrary). In the previous week and in what seemed only an instant, Wisconsin has exploded with green. Flying back from work trips into Dane County Airport had been until recently a winter-bare view from the sky, but now it was a patchwork of lush new green and the earthy brown of newly planted farm fields. The land breathes more deeply now.

And in my garage lives a mama cat and her newborn litter of four kittens, a foster family from the Sauk County Humane Society. The mama, who I have named "Mamasita", continues to do a fine job, but is not ashamed to scurry out to get attention of her own each time the door opens. Two of the kittens are growing like weeds. They take to the teet as if magnetized. There is a runt calico, the only girl, but she is feeding well, too. She must be working the angles when it comes to fighting for milk. But, the little tiger-striped tabby is having some problems. I fear 'fading kitten' sydrome but I'm doing what we can with hand feeding. He wasn't the runt when I took them home at less than one day old, but he's now the smallest by far (about 1/3 the size of the two bigguns).

There is newness and change and struggle going on each minute in my garage, as if this family is playing out The Greening of spring in metaphor.

bn

Group shot, if you can spot them all. Right to left are Mamasita, the white one (biggun 1), the white/tiger one (biggun 2), calico runt, and finally the fading tiger (notice how easily he's pushed away from the food; he doesn't even try anymore).	Mamasita, always smiling with a purr like a lawnmower.
This one is precocious. He is the biggest and is most apt to test out his strengthening legs and venture away from the kitten pile.	See what I mean...he'll get at the source from any angle necessary.
This is the fading tiger. He's plagued with issues right now. He's the only one to puke (a few days back) and since then he won't take to the teet at all. Plus, he has an infected right eye that is closed shut with goop. This pic shows some perspective of his smallness - Mamasita's paw is as big as his little head. I'm trying to hand feed him with some kitten formula, and I'm obviously not good at this patient, domestic stuff. Most of the milk ends up on me and the kitten just has this pathetic and confused look on his face. It reminds me of those early scenes from the movie "Mr. Mom", but at least I'm not feeding the babies chili.	This is the fading tiger and a corner of the pond of milk on my shirt, not in his belly. Does anybody know how to do this? Suggestions or volunteer domestic army would be much appreciated.
Here's the white one and the fading tiger. Notice the size difference.	Here's the calico, also small but eating healthily. She's most often found at the bottom of the kitten pile, but here she finds the nook of the big white.

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