Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Milkweeds, monarchs & memories in Minnesota August 20, 2024

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Monarch on the common milkweed flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

I’VE ALWAYS HELD a fascination with milkweeds. Their clusters of vanilla-scented dusty pink flowers draw me to a plant that seems more flower than weed. Unless you were my dad, who wanted the common milkweed removed from his acres of soybeans. Yes, I hoed or pulled plenty of milkweeds from the fields on my southwestern Minnesota childhood farm.

Milkweeds grow next to the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds against a backdrop of identifying milkweed photos. Those include six types: common, poke, purple, butterfly, whorled and swamp. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

My thinking has shifted since then. Today I plant, rather than eradicate, milkweeds. Dad, if he was still alive, might wonder how his farm-raised daughter strayed so far from hoeing to growing.

A monarch caterpillar. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The answer is easy. Long ago I learned the value of milkweeds to our monarch butterfly population. The butterfly lays its eggs on milkweed leaves. And milkweed is the sole source of food for monarch caterpillars. If we want the monarch population to grow, thrive and survive, we need milkweed plants. It’s that simple.

A sign at Hy-Vee grocery store explains the importance of milkweed to monarchs. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

More and more I’ve spotted milkweeds growing in public places in and around Faribault. River Bend Nature Center. Falls Creek County Park. The Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Gardens. Beside the conservation building at the Rice County Fairgrounds. Even in flowerbeds at Hy-Vee grocery store.

Milkweeds grow among phlox. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

If you walk by my house, you’ll see stray milkweeds popping up here and there. Along a retaining wall. Among the prolific phlox in my messy flowerbeds. The husband has orders not to mow, pull or otherwise remove milkweed plants.

An unripened milkweed pod. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

This time of year, seed pods are forming on milkweeds. Perhaps it’s the writer, the poet, in me that loves the shape of those fat green pods that will eventually dry, burst open and spread seeds on wisps of white fluff carried by the wind.

Milkweeds flourish among prairie flowers in the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens, Faribault, (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

Seeds wing across the landscape, just like monarchs. I remember a time when monarchs were prolific. Yes, even in rural Minnesota where I labored to get rid of milkweed plants.

I discovered milkweeds planted outside Hy-Vee. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

Naturalists, gardeners and others are working hard now to bring back the monarch population. It’s taken time, effort and education to convince people to plant milkweeds for monarchs. I don’t expect butterfly numbers will be what they once were—when monarchs flitted everywhere. But we have to start somewhere, do something. And that begins with each of us. Educating ourselves. Caring. And then deciding that milkweeds really aren’t weeds after all. They are vital to the survival of the monarch butterfly. It’s OK to plant milkweed seeds or allow nature to plant them.

Monarch on a thistle flower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I, for one, delight in watching monarchs flit about my yard. They are magical as only a butterfly can be. Delicate, yet strong. Poetically beautiful. Carrying memories and grace on their wings.

An educational sign among the flowers at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2024)

FYI: Nerstrand Big Woods State Park is hosting a “Monarchs and Milkweeds” presentation at 10 a.m. Saturday, August 24, in the park’s amphitheater. Kathy Gillispie, who raises monarchs from eggs, caterpillars and chrysalises, will speak about her experiences with monarchs. The program is free, but a state park parking pass is needed to enter the rural Nerstrand park.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Going Up North to a Minnesota lake cabin August 6, 2024

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Relaxing on the end of the dock as the sun sets at Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

LAKE, SKY, TOWERING PINES, CABIN. Those define summer Up North for many Minnesotans. Not until recent years did I, too, become one of those heading north to the cabin for a week. That’s thanks to a brother-in-law and sister-in-law who generously share their Northwoods paradise with extended family.

I aimed my camera straight up toward the tops of towering pines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Randy and I love spending time with our eldest daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren at the cabin on Horseshoe Lake south of Crosslake. We are bonding, building memories and connecting with nature in a way that differs from southern Minnesota.

Treelines open to the beach along Horseshoe Lake as the sun sets, the moon rises. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

The Brainerd Lakes Area has a decidedly different look and feel than the lower half of our state. Dense woods, primarily pine, hug roads and homes, opening to beautiful, pristine lakes.

As day shifts toward night, pontoons motor around Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
There are plenty of jet skis, too, speeding across the lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
A loon family glides across the lake at sunset. We saw and heard the loons often, but none swam near enough for close-up photos. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Up here it’s all about fishing, campfires, watching the sun set or rise, lying in a hammock, drinking coffee lakeside, grilling, eating meals outdoors, observing the loons, reading on the beach, dipping your feet in the water, kayaking, paddle-boarding, boating…

A gull wings across the wide sky on a perfect July afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

In essence, vacationing Up North means forgetting about the stresses, pressures, deadlines and routines of daily life. It means leisurely mornings, relaxing lakeside, days without time.

I had the best pulled pork sandwich here when Randy and I lunched with friends Sue and Charley at the Damsite Supper Club. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Up North also means trips into town—Nisswa to peruse the shops; Crosslake for ice cream at Lake Country Crafts & Cones, a beer at 14 Lakes Craft Brewing Company, carry-out pizza from Rafferty’s and thrift store shopping; Bean Hole Days in Pequot Lakes; and this trip, lunch with friends at the Damsite Supper Club in Pine River a half hour to the north.

A mural in Ironton promotes cycling in the region. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Randy photographed me with my new friend outside Nord Hus Scandinavian Goods in Crosby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024 by Randy Helbling)

This stay we also drove to nearby Crosby and Ironton, towns nestled next to each other and deeply rooted in Iron Range history. We’ve only just begun to explore those communities, which are remaking and branding themselves as the Cuyuna Lakes region, drawing mountain bikers to an extensive recreational trail system, vacationers to local eateries and shops. MacDaddy’s Donut Garage in Ironton is on my list of bakeries to visit.

The Blueberry Special at Valeri Ann’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

Valeri Ann’s Family Foods in Merrifield, a short drive from the cabin, has become our source for decadent caramel rolls, one big enough for two to share and tasting almost as good as the ones my mother-in-law made. This time we also tried the breakfast specials, one featuring a dinner-plate-size blueberry pancake, the other with wild rice and more incorporated into scrambled eggs. Wild rice is another Northwoods signature food, grown and harvested in the region and parts farther north.

I love how the water ripples, like a work of art, as a boat crosses Horseshoe Lake at sunset. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)

As I’ve explored and vacationed in the Northwoods, I’ve grown a deeper appreciation for Minnesota and its diversity of geography, topography and lifestyle. There’s so much to love about this state, from north to south, east to west. Ah, summertime…and going Up North to the cabin.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Wildlife observations from along the flooded Cannon River in Faribault June 25, 2024

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An egret flies over the Cannon River by the barely visible dam at North Alexander Park on Friday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

WILDLIFE SENSES, understands, picks up on nuances that we as humans often fail to notice in our heads-bent-to-our-smartphones, busy scheduled lives.

A blue heron perches on the edge of a tree along the Cannon River by the park-side dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

The recent flooding is a prime example. I saw countless cellphones raised to record floodwaters and rising rivers. I carried my 35 mm Canon camera, drawn just like everyone else to document the historic natural event unfolding before me along the Cannon River in Faribault.

An egret and blue heron seem to be checking out the river as a red-winged blackbird sits among the grasses to the right. That’s the Faribault Mill in the background, railings for the park-side dam in the foreground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

But I also noticed the wildlife. They, too, were observing. Watching the water. And watching people invade their river habitat by the hundreds. I sensed how uncomfortable the egret, blue heron, ducks and red-winged blackbirds were amid all the human chaos. So many people and so much traffic.

Flying high above the flooded river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

I expect they longed for quiet. Peace. A respite from the attention. A return to normalcy. No more peering eyes. No more crowds gathering.

A bullhead partially emerges from shallow water on dam’s edge as it tries to swim up the floodwaters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)
Another bullhead attempts to swim up river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2021)

And then there were the fish, primarily bullheads, but a few bass, attempting to swim up through water that was rushing down, spilling over the edges of the dam by North Alexander Park. The fish appeared determined to make it to the other side, to the quieter waters of the widened river. It seemed a losing cause to me. But who am I to discourage a stubborn bullhead? If anything, it was fascinating to watch.

A duck family swims in the shallow floodwaters next to the top of the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

Finally, I observed a mama duck and her brood aside the top of the dam. They began edging, descending toward the river. Foolish ducks, I thought, judging the mother mallard. And then I voiced my concern out loud, “Stop, you’ll drown!”

The ducks move toward the deep river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

I can only imagine the thoughts of that mother and her six ducklings. “Did that woman really say that, warn us to stay out of the water lest we drown?” If ducks could laugh, the seven of them would have chortled, chuckled, carried on and then shared what they’d heard me say. Quack. Quack. Quackity. Quack.

A mallard drake swims in the Cannon River, nowhere near the female duck and ducklings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

But it was my husband who spoke for them. “They’re ducks, Audrey,” Randy said. “They can swim.”

An egret stands watchful and tall, next to the water rushing, roiling over the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 21, 2024)

Uh, yeah. He was right. But it was the mom in me emerging, the protective spirit that, in that moment, did not separate wildlife from human so focused was I on the dangers of the swollen, swift-moving river.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Riverside observations June 13, 2024

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River reflections. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

THE SHRILL TRILL OF TREE FROGS cut through the woods along the river. Yet, the frogs remained unseen, despite their overwhelmingly loud voices seemingly screaming for attention. Nature is odd like that sometimes. Raucous, but stealthy enough to remain hidden.

A mallard drake adds a spot of color to the dirty river water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

Yet, on this walk along the Cannon River near Two Rivers Park in Faribault, not all creatures stayed unseen by me. A mallard drake swam in the river, shimmering iridescent neck and head contrasting sharply with water muddied by recent heavy rains.

A mallard drake nearly hidden from view along the wooded edge of river backwaters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

Through a curtain of leaves, I spotted a second drake settled on a fallen limb. Sometimes you have to look closely to notice nature in a natural landscape.

Crossing the river along the Straight River Trail near Two Rivers Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

I doubt the two youth pedaling the bike trail across the river bridge, along the river, around the bend beside the woods, noticed.

Two rows of boxcars parked near the former Faribault Canning Company by the Straight River Trail were painted with graffiti. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

They likely noticed the parked boxcars, though, painted with graffiti. Bold. Vivid. Graphics seemingly screaming for attention. Messages undecipherable to me. Street art. Public art. Boxcar art. Perhaps even some gang graffiti.

The rushing, rippling Straight River by the Straight River Trail near Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
A portion of the Straight River Trail that runs through Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Wildflowers grow along the Straight River bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

Nature paints her own art in reflections and ripples upon water’s surface, in a canopy of trees draping a trail, in a clump of wildflowers or weeds, depending on perspective.

I got mighty close to this rabbit before it hopped away. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

I noticed all of this and a juvenile bunny hunkered at woods’ edge, attempting to appear unseen in a statue still pose. I crept nearer and nearer, clicking my camera until the rabbit eventually decided inaction was likely not the safest option. I posed no threat. But a young creature of the wild doesn’t understand that.

I’m thankful for city parks and trails that give me access to the river and nature in general. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)

And so this is what I noticed, along the river. Floral and fauna. Noise of tree frog and nearby traffic. Scared rabbit. Duck upon muddy waters. Paint upon boxcars. Me, trying to find my place in the all of it, here beside the river.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Color my world with spring May 14, 2024

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Looking up toward flowering branches and the bold blue sky of spring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

SPRING IN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA looks a lot like colors in a new box of crayons. Sharp. Bold. Vibrant. Vivid green grass. Bold blue sky. Hot pink tree blossoms. Spring flowers bursting bright reds and yellows. These are the hues of spring.

Color everywhere… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

The landscape is a page upon which nature colors over gray. The world explodes in color, a welcome visual delight to winter weary eyes.

Growing goslings explore the river bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

I can’t get enough of this, even after more than sixty years of observing the seasonal transformation during April into May. It never gets old—this morphing of the seasons. How beautiful this world around us, teeming with new growth, new life.

Goose and goslings aside ducks along river’s edge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

Every spring I await the goslings and ducklings. They are pure fluffy cuteness. I admire from afar, keenly aware of their protective parents. I dodge goose poop, not always successfully, to get within viewing range. But I respect their space.

Beautiful scene: a mallard drake swimming on the river. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

I find myself mesmerized by waterfowl as they forage for food along the shoreline or glide through the river, water rippling a trail. Reflections trace tranquility upon the water’s surface. All is quiet and good in that peaceful scene.

A squirrel, nearly camouflaged by a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

But not all is still. On land, squirrels scamper up trees, root in the ground. I never tire of their antics, amazed by their acrobatic skills, their Olympian abilities to leap with precision, climb with speed. They are really quite amazing even if sometimes a nuisance when digging up lawns and in flower pots.

A squirrel peeks over a limb on a leafing tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

There’s so much to appreciate in this season not only visually, but in sound, too. Chirping birds, especially raucous this time of year. Trill of peepers in ponds and wetlands. Rustle of a rabbit across dried leaves. Call of a rooster pheasant in flight. Whisper of the wind through leafing treetops.

Fragrant blossoms blanket branches. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

And then the scent, oh, the distinct, earthy smell of spring. Soil. Rain. Flowers. I dip my nose into apple blossoms, their fragrance a reminder of apples to come, of apple crisp pulled from the oven, of pies baked in Grandma’s kitchen.

Lilacs are budding and flowering. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

But it is lilacs which, for me, hold the strongest scent of spring. Perhaps because of the memories connected to this flowering bush. I remember bouquets of lilacs filling my childhood farmhouse, their heavy perfume masking the odor of cow manure. The lilacs came from my bachelor uncle’s nearby farm. Mike would bring bouquets to his sister-in-law. Or my mom would drive the washboard gravel roads to pick her own. Today, my husband brings me bouquets of lilacs each May, understanding the memories and love these blossoms represent.

Bleeding hearts, one of the first flowers of spring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

This is spring in Minnesota to me. All of it. Bold. Beautiful. Bright. Me, feeling like a kid giddy with joy over a box of new crayons.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Nature makes us kin as spring emerges in Minnesota April 24, 2024

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Green is slowly tipping trees, coloring the ground as we bridge into spring. This hillside scene was photographed in Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

THIS TIME OF YEAR in Minnesota—this early spring—everything appears more vibrant. At least to my winter weary eyes. My eyes, which have viewed mostly muted shades of brown and gray for too many months, can’t get enough of this landscape edging with color.

Bold blue skies blanket River Bend’s prairie, which will soon be lush with new growth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Intense green in buds and lush lawns, thriving with recent rains and then sunshine and warming day-time temps, layer the landscape. Sometimes the sky is such a bold blue that my eyes ache with the beauty of it all. Green against blue, the natural world a poem, a painting, a creative story.

Buds emerge against the backdrop of the creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Like most Minnesotans, I find myself emerging, getting outdoors more, immersing myself in nature. Not that I don’t spend time outside in winter. But now, in late April, I’m out more often.

The Straight River twists through River Bend Nature Center, winding through Faribault to connect with the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Parks and trails and the local nature center draw me into woods, along prairie, aside replenished wetlands and ponds, by rivers and creeks. Even a walk through a neighborhood to observe tulips flashing vivid red and yellow pleases me. There’s so much to take in, to delight in as this season unfolds.

Inspirational signs are scattered throughout River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” reads a quote from William Shakespeare printed on a memorial plaque placed on a bench at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. I’m no Shakespearean scholar, but I interpret that to mean nature connects us.

Turtles galore lined logs at River Bend’s Turtle Pond on a recent sunny afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

That happened recently at the Turtle Pond. I paused to photograph three turtles lining a log, still as statues in the afternoon sunshine. Then a passing friend noticed and asked what I saw. And then he pulled out his cellphone to photograph. And then the photographer who was shooting senior photos on the boardwalk bridge over the pond, noticed the turtles, too. We were, in that moment, kin in nature, touched by the countless turtles perched on logs in the water.

This bridge spans a creek in Falls Creek County Park, leading to hiking trails in the woods on one end and an open grassy area on the other. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Nature also connected me with others at Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. A family picnicking by the park shelter prompted memories of long ago picnics there with my growing family. I walked over to tell the young parents how happy I was to see them outdoors, grilling, enjoying the beautiful spring day with Ezra in his Spider-Man costume and Millie in her stroller. Nature makes us kin.

Wildflowers are blooming, including these at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

People simply seem nicer, kinder, more open to conversation when they’re outdoors. It’s as if the wind whispers only good words into our thoughts. It’s as if clouds disperse to reveal only sunny skies. It’s as if sounds are only those of silence or of birds, not of anger and hostility. Nature calms with her voice, her presence.

Water mesmerizes as it flows over stones in a clear-running creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

I love to stand aside a burbling creek, to hear water rushing over rocks. In that moment, I hear only the soothing, steady rhythm of music and none of the noise of life. Peace, sweet peace, consumes me.

Trails at Falls Creek County Park are packed dirt, narrow, rugged, uneven and sometimes blocked by fallen trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

The same goes for walking within nature. Trees embrace me. Wildflowers show me beauty. Dirt beneath my soles connects me to the earth, filling my soul.

On a recent afternoon at River Bend, geese searched the prairie for food. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And then there are the creatures. The Canadian geese wandering the prairie, searching for food, their long necks bending, pilfering the dried grass while I dodge the droppings they’ve left along the pathway. They are fearless, a lesson for me in standing strong.

Deer at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Deer gather, then high-tail away when they grow weary of me watching them. They’ve had enough, even if I haven’t.

A nesting mallard hen and drake, nearly camouflaged on a wetland pond at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And at the pond, mallards nest. Unmoving. Determined. Heads folded into feathers. Settled there among dried stalks, water bold blue, reflecting the sky. Spring peepers sing a symphony of spring. It is a scene, a performance that holds me.

Rustic signage, which I love, marks landmarks and trails inside River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Shakespeare was right. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The birdsong of spring in Minnesota April 16, 2024

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In April 2018, this robin huddled in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

THIS TIME OF YEAR, birds sound louder, their voices amplified. Birds are marking territories, seeking mates. Or perhaps they are announcing their return to Minnesota or their survival of winter, even the mild one of 2023-2024.

A cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)

Cardinals trill. Red-winged blackbirds and robins sing in their distinguishable voices, which I can’t quite describe. But I know them when I hear them.

Red-winged blackbird among dried cattails in a pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2017)

When I step out my backdoor to hang laundry on the clothesline, I hear the morning birdsong, even above the drone of traffic along my busy street. When I walk at the local nature center, I hear birdsong rising from the woods, the marshes, the prairie. To hear birds singing is to hear the refrain of spring.

From the pages of a children’s picture book… Birds announce spring’s arrival in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)

It’s lovely and uplifting and hopeful. And in many ways remarkable. Here are these small feathered creatures singing spring songs that captivate us with their boldness, their melody.

Soon the grass will be lush and long, like a carpet for robins and other birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Each spring, without fail, I find myself listening intently to birdsong as if the song is a new release. In a way, it is. A release from winter’s grip. A release to days that are warmer and greener and teeming with life. Those are the signs, the hopes, of spring in Minnesota.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“In every walk with nature…” March 20, 2024

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Leaping across a path near the parking lot at River Bend Nature Center in 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2013)

THEY LEAPT LIKE BALLERINAS across the dirt trail, white tutu tails flashing.

They were a herd of 11 deer sighted recently at Faribault’s River Bend Nature Center. I stood on Raccoon Trail aside Randy simply watching. One after the other they leapt with such grace, such practiced precision.

I photographed these deer at River Bend in April 2022, not far from where we sighted 16 deer on March 13. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Only moments earlier, as we hiked down Arbor Trail on the nature center’s northeast side, Randy touched my arm, motioning me to stop. There, ahead of us, across the intersecting dirt path, several deer lingered in lowland grasses. I didn’t initially see them, my distance vision not all that acute. But eventually I spotted the camouflaged deer.

Rustic signs mark trails at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)

And then we saw more in the distance, nearer the Prairie Loop. There, barely visible behind trees.

A sense of wonderment, of awe, of just wanting to take in the scene before me overtook my spirit. Such moments in nature deserve full attention. We watched while two men walked right past us, unaware of the nearby deer so engaged were they in conversation.

We waited, whisper-quiet. Watching. Then the deer moved, ambling along the edge of tall dried grasses, staying parallel to the trail. Soon more deer emerged from a stand of trees and trailed the first traveling troupe. It was a sight, the endless stream of deer moving east.

Our attention turned that direction, toward the deer, one by one, long-leaping over Raccoon Trail, into the woods, up the hill, toward the prairie. We started counting. One, two, three…all the way to eleven. Only when the last deer exited the stage did we dare move, so mesmerized were we by the performance.

Inspirational quotes like this are spread throughout River Bend. I especially love this one. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2019)

Randy and I resumed our hike, following Raccoon Trail until the biting wind of the March evening prompted us to turn back. By that time we were talking again or walking in comfortable silence. I wished aloud that I had my 35 mm camera with me. I’ve never been this near so many deer at River Bend. Eleven. But perhaps it was better I was without my camera so I could focus on the moment rather than on focusing and framing images.

Camouflaged deer among the prairie grasses of River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Then, back at the intersection of Raccoon and Arbor Trails, Randy alerted me to more deer. Five this time. Standing statute still, without stage fright. Watching us. Us watching them in a stare-down. I wondered which of us would move first. Wildlife or human.

This sign posted in a kiosk along Raccoon Trail reminds visitors that deer and other wildlife, are just that, wildlife. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

I ooohed over the cute babies, last year’s fawns. Even if deer are dreadful when darting onto roadways and unwanted when dining on garden flowers and vegetables, I appreciate them in their natural habitat. This is their home, their stage, this land of tall grasses and woods. Here they walk with elegance. Here they leap with the grace of seasoned ballet dancers. Here they give me pause to stop, to listen to the trill of red-winged blackbirds as we watch each other—deer and human—in the fading light of a March evening at River Bend.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

On the hunt for deer November 6, 2023

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Deer photographed at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

MANY MINNESOTANS hold a love-hate relationship with deer. We love watching them in the wild. But when they devour our flowers and other plants, then deer are not quite so cute. Or, if they dash onto a roadway, slamming into our vehicles (or perhaps us into them), then the hate factor amps up considerably.

Leaping across a path near the nature center parking lot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)

And then there are the deer hunters, including many in my extended family. While I’ve never asked why they hunt, for some it’s a food source, others tradition, a challenge, a sport, camaraderie and the joy of time spent in the woods, fields and prairie.

Spotted on a back country road near Mazeppa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)

Right now is prime deer hunting season in Minnesota with the recent firearms deer hunting opener. It’s a big deal with even our governor donning his blaze orange attire. The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources regulates hunting with detailed rules for firearms, muzzleloader and archery hunts plus a whole lot of other specifics for ages and regions. Way too complicated for me. But then I don’t need to understand given I don’t hunt.

A hunter in bright orange roamed fields during the opening weekend of deer hunting in Minnesota in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

But I do need to be aware. I prefer not to go on leisurely country drives during firearms hunting. Bullets can travel a long way. While I know most hunters are careful, not all are. Being sure of your target before firing is a basic rule of hunting. Even I, a non-hunter, understand that.

Spotted along a trail at River Bend while hiking on Sunday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

I also understand the need to heed warning signs like the one I spotted while hiking at River Bend Nature Center late Sunday morning. The nature center will be closed Thursday, November 9, through Sunday, November 12, for an archery management hunt. It’s a necessary event to manage the deer population. Coyotes do some of that, but clearly not enough.

The muted autumn landscape at River Bend, the path leading back to the woods or onto the prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

I appreciate River Bend for its diverse landscape of woods, prairie, wetlands and river. To walk the trails within is to connect with nature, to feel peace, to experience a sense of awe and wonder at the intricacies and beauties of the natural world.

One of my favorites at River Bend, grass that stretches 10 feet and bends poetically in the wind. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Here sky meets prairie. Here woods shelter. Here river twists. Here milkweeds flourish and grasses stretch and snakes slither. And here deer roam, too, in this land that is more theirs than ours. Yet, we claim it also.

Deer nearly camouflaged in the dried grasses at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2022)

And even though I intellectually recognize the need for an archery management hunt, part of me wants to shout a warning: “Run, deer, run!”

© Copyright November 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Experiencing fall colors in Faribault one final time (maybe) this season November 2, 2023

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Individual leaves, like this maple, are works of art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

TEMPS DIPPING INTO THE LOW 20s definitely feel more like winter than autumn here in southern Minnesota. I pulled on my parka, stocking cap and mittens earlier this week for my morning walk.

A still colorful treeline behind Pollard Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

But the weekend, oh, the weekend, even if only in the 30s, was a wonderful one for final fall walks. I wanted one last glimpse of the foliage. Leaves have dropped from many trees, but some remain, like stubborn, defiant kids refusing to leave the playground.

A solitary oak set against the backdrop of Noyes Hall is simply stunning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Per our usual weekend walking route, Randy and I headed to the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf on Faribault’s east side. I love walking here. It’s quiet, secluded and just plain achingly beautiful. From aged limestone buildings to green space to a wooded area behind the buildings, there’s much to appreciate. Nature and old architecture always appeal to me as does a safe, unimpeded place to walk.

The woods I was drawn to explore. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Typically we stick to following sidewalks or crossing parking lots. But this time we diverged into the wooded area behind Pollard Hall, a boarded up building and the HVAC and maintenance headquarters. I’d previously seen people with their dogs tracking across the grass near woods’ edge. But we’d never detoured to explore, mostly because in the summer and early autumn the woods appear a dense forest. Now with most leaves fallen, the space opened up, drawing me in.

We followed a leaf-strewn, narrow dirt path for a ways into the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Since I’m directionally challenged in a town that is not prairie grid straight, I wondered what lay beyond the woods, below the bluff. After a bit of crunching over leaves, dodging branches and skirting trees, I saw the answer. Below lay the river and train tracks and Straight River Apartments next to Fleckenstein Bluffs Park. Finally, I understood my geographical placement.

Woods, hills, fallen leaves and creek bed meld behind MSAD. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Mostly I took in the topography of hills bumping into each other, a dry creekbed twisting between. Yellow leaves covered the hillsides as thick as shag carpeting, but much lovelier.

Oak leaves blanket the lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Once out of the woods, Randy alerted me to two deer near the HVAC building. A third had already run away upon spotting us. But the other two stood still as statues, fully aware of our presence. We mimicked them, opting to stand quietly and appreciate their unexpected appearance. As much as I dislike deer along roadways, I find them endearing in any other location. Finally the pair decided they’d had enough of this stare off. They white-tailed it across the grass, disappearing over a hill.

Sometimes you have to look up, directly up, to see the beauty, like this oak tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

And so we continued on, me pulling out my cellphone once again to snap photos of the remaining colorful trees. My mind understands that soon this landscape will be devoid of color, transformed to the black-and-white of winter. But on this weekend, I pushed those thoughts mostly aside, focusing instead on autumn’s lingering beauty.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling