EEC Forest Stewardship

Small adventures in local parks are always fun. Today I found myself in Black Diamond in a naturalist area full of trails through some plantation forests and along a small creek named after the colonial coal mining town of Ravensdale. Thanks to the robber barons tactics of railroad expansion, the town hosted a coal mine to fuel the trains moving through, carrying grail to a fast growing Seattle city, and coal to anywhere in need of fuel- which was everyone. In the 1920s, Ravensdale was disincorporated and most of the crews relocated to Arizona to mine copper. The open spaces left to walking trails and naturalist areas are a legacy of long term ecological genocide now in recovery. In fact, most of this green space will never fully recover, because there is too much coal ash, open pit scars, and other rampant toxins, like arsenic, released during mass extraction until 1975, when the last pit was dynamited closed.

In a map below, you can see the hydroelectric implemented, along with man made lakes, diverted streams, and city parks put up to window dress the mining devastation of the late 19th and early 20th century. Two cemeteries are also marked on this map, showing the dead buried in the watershed. The vast wetlands were once home to incredible biodiversity. The railroad barons bank rolled surveyors and mineral experts into these lands to find and mine rich coal seams along the Cedar and Green Rivers. Ravendale Creek is caught up in the middle of this extraction extermination, and helped run the railroads and heat the homes of many city dwellers who came west to seek a better life, only to find the mines and rail yards they left behind, well founded and still operating across the continent, ready to employ them as cheap labor, and bring in Chinese laborers and Black miners when the whites unionized for better pay and safer working conditions. Remember- wealth has always pitted poor whites against BIPOC communities to gain more wealth at the expense of everyone else.

The natural world is the biggest looser here, yet we all turn away from our legacy of extraction lifestyle, still well in play to this day. Your wild water has been harnessed into dams to fuel industry that lifted some out of poverty, yet today, continues to degrade the very natural resources we need to survive- like safe drinking water, clean soil, and pure air to breath. Sure, we’re not burning coal any more, so we’ve come a long way- or have we? The detriment our mining ancestors brought is still harming the environment, and surrounding communities. Ravensdale creek flows out of Ravendale’s Lake, a place that’s home to John Henry Mine. This site is still yet to be addressed, as it’s harboring suspected heavy metals and other toxins the state fears disturbing, because it’s all down hill from there into a lot of wild water and the aquifer for millions of residence down stream. Oh, and a local silica corporation is operating on the site, and offering clean fill dirt and a place to dump your unwanted soil on site. If you are wondering about your neighborhood here in Washington State, please explore this map.

When we enter green spaces, we are sometimes falsely lured into thinking the place we are is safe and full of thriving nature. We read about the return of salmon, new native plantings, and all the great public space we have access to. But when we dig a little deeper, literally, we can unleash the legacy of toxic fill and extraction abuses left by companies never intending to clean up after they took what they wanted. Countless small mining towns in this area faced the pollution, many children died young or were still born, many men lost their lives in collapses, or came home to die a slow death with black lung. Now, our children and grandchildren can suffer from all the microplastics in our water and air, breathing in the continued legacy of extraction industry and combustion technology that’s going to take us to mars. Or so we’re told. At the expense of ourselves and the last vestiges of the environment that keeps us alive. But beautiful naturalist areas to wander in now, so enjoy!

I took this picture of a red alder with what I thought was heart rot. It might be a canker of some kind- certainly fungal in origin. This young tree is sick, and it could just be environmental, but looking around at this establishing forest, I wonder how long it will take for the pollution of the groundwater to show through. I looked up alder heart rot- and this was one site I came upon. Don’t worry, these fugal infections are not a threat to economic gains, so we should not be too concerned with its presence in the forest. The article ended with ways to control the fungus in commercial stands, labeled “cultural control”. That sends a chill up my spine. Our culture is indeed controlled by industry and commercial earnings. The immeasurable costs to our environment keep stacking up. When do we think this will finally catch up with us? I think it already has. US women are continuing to struggle with getting pregnant, people are riddle with cancer, and ecological collapse continues. So, we should all go for a walk in the woods, pick a few berries, and stop worrying about what’s in the water we’re drinking, or the food we’re eating right? Order something else on your jungle account and stream some good screen time.

Or, get outside and start looking around at what’s going on. Get involved in local conservation movements, or invest in helping to clean up a toxic site. We the people have a lot of energy in us to mitigate what matters. I often write about taking little steps- like public transit, carpooling, or not buying online every day. A lot of my friends are now deeply connected to buy nothing groups online, that’s excellent. Invest local- especially in food. Find your local farmer and ask what you can invest in for them. CSAs are great, seasonal buying is crucial. I’ve got a great wait list of clients waiting to buy my lamb. That’s a big help in knowing my animals will sell each fall. I don’t ask for deposits, but knowing people are signed up and expecting is enough for me, I do get lambs to people within a two year period. If you go in with a group, you can get a lamb faster. Invest in pick your own establishments, and go pick your own. Food is my main vein of thinking, because it’s my chosen lifestyle- and it is a lifestyle. What’s yours?

Back in the nature park, birds are singing, creek water is flowing, and the trails abound. There were nice foot bridges established to cross the creek back and forth, and some well marked signs to help you know where you are walking- or at least the trail names. There were no mile markers- because you can enter the trails from almost any direction. Some of the longer connections will hook you up across country lines, and into the deeper wilds of The Central Cascades. Other trails loop you around your neighborhood and back to the blacktop in no time. I saw evidence of horses, so trail riding is possible, and some paths lead to major lakes, where you can swim, boat, canoe, or fish. Just make sure the fish are safe to eat. I’m a little concerned about all the mining history of this area, even the abundant berries I picked and ate were probably contaminated, but that’s the human body for ya, contaminated. But at least today, the walk was relaxing, and the access to so much open space divine. Gratitude for nature’s resiliency, our awareness of it, and the acceptance of our ancestor’s actions in polluting our homes today. Go find a green space and get out.

The fruit is on here at EEC Forest Stewardship, and we’ve picked cherries, harvested plums, and await the early summer peach and apple harvest that’s still developing on the branch. Pears and quinces will come in the fall, but young fruit there is also looking good. Overall, the orchards are developing nicely. There is enough fruit for me, a few friends, and a little for the wildlife too. The birds got about half my cherry crop this year, as I delayed in getting my ladder out there to pick the high stuff, so the birds helped themselves. I’m not mad about it, as the wildlife needs some fruit too. I will regret letting them have so much, because I won’t have any to freeze for winter enjoyment, and I’ve taught the birds to come in now- which is hard to stop once they know the timing on ripening fruit.

Industrial orchards use netting to protect cherries, and we won’t do that here, so I have to dissuade the birds by getting to the fruit first. Starlings are the worst pest bird in the orchard, and a flock of them can empty your trees in hours. Luckily, I don’t have enough cherries here to call them in. The woodpeckers go for the pears and apples in late summer, early fall. Again, I can’t fault them for taking advantage, but I am motivated to pick the fruit fast to avoid ruined flesh still on the branch. The woodpeckers peck into the fruit, but leave it hanging, so then a lot of bugs and other opportunists move in. I cant say enough about timing- keep an eye on things as they start to ripen, and pick a lot before it’s fully ripe for best harvest numbers. Most fruit can finish off the tree, so plan for ripening inside if you can. I also pick up all the dropped fruit from the ground to avoid leaving an alluring odor around to entice bears. This is crucial to prevent bears learning that your orchard is a good larder to come check on in the Fall.

The grapes are also doing well this year, especially our white wine verities from Austria. The wine grapes are neglected, but that’s what makes them thrive somehow. My table grapes get watering and a lot of babying- it’s time for another pruning already. Grapes need pruning to let the energy of growth go to the fruit, rather than the vine. I’ll drag the ladder out for that work too- but why am I hesitant with the ladder? It’s one of the most dangerous activities on the farm- or anywhere. Ladders are a fall risk- a big one, and I’m usually alone when in need of them, so I don’t climb high up- which is sometimes what’s needed to reach the top tier of the plant for proper pruning. Who said orchard care was easy? Not me! I tend to fall behind in my pruning, it’s a lot of work on the older, well established trees, but worth it to keep production up. Most fruit trees also have good years, and bad ones, but that rhythm is somewhat unpredictable. This year, the cherries were less productive, but last year they were amazing. What will next year bring?

My Asian pear tree looks like a modest harvest this year too- but it’s still putting on fruit for the next few months before harvest, so a lot could change. The apple trees are already dropping some of the load- shedding weight to keep their branches from breaking. I’ll still have to do a lot of pulling before the mature fruit comes on, but it’s what I would call a mast year in apples here. That is, if they hold on till they ripen. Sometimes, my apples shed too much fruit in anticipation, and then I’m let down a bit. But the trees know what’s going on, I’m the one needing to catch up.

There is so much to learn about fruit trees, and I’m still quite the novice, so thanks to the trees for continuing to show me the way. Sometimes I’m blind to what’s happening, like drought stress. I don’t usually see it till the tree sheds all her fruit in one go- and that’s usually the older, well established trees that don’t get watering help. My young orchard is irrigated in the summer, which keeps the fruit on and the young trees developing nicely. Sometimes I loose my harvest to a bear- once so far, but it’ll be back again to check each year now, so I have to be ready and ahead of it with the harvest. Other challenges like leaf curl, aphids, bacterial bark infection, and apple moths can put a dent in the harvest, the possibilities are endless, so I keep a good record of which verities seem to protect themselves well- I don’t use any sprays on my fruit trees, which makes their cultivation a little more challenging. In the end, you get what you put into your fruit trees. Mine are productive, healthy, but sometimes temperamental about water, weather, and pests.

One fruit shrub I’m not yet having any luck with is thimble berry. The fruit starts to set, then dries out before maturing into fine red clumps of deliciousness. I think they need more water at a crucial time in their development, and I have not gotten the memo yet. I know this native plant will one day produce, but it might need a little more help form some watering at the right time- which I have yet to fully understand. Sometimes, it’s a mistiming on pollination too. Cherries bloomed early this year, before most of the pollinators were out- so there were not many fruits. Sometimes there is a late frost, which kills off the buds throughout the orchard. That’s not the case this year- thank goodness! The key in keeping an orchard is having a diverse planting of different verities. That way, if one or two are having an off year, a few others can make up the difference. It’s working here so far, and I’m about ready to make another investment in new plantings based off the knowledge and observations I’ve made over the past decade and a half. With any luck, we’ll be picking fruit on this landscape for generation to come.

On Monday, I was tracking elk in baqʷab. The sign in this very active area offers lots of learning. Fertile loam from the river produce excellent substrate for capturing the hoof morphology from this giant land mammal so brilliantly. There are around 400 animals in this herd, which seems to keep at this population limit naturally. Though elk were historically present though the last 10,000 years of human settlement, the current herds were introduced. It helps to understand context of animals and how they got here to make it clear that this herd was imported, but to also understand that before colonial mass hunting, there were kʷagʷičəd living in sdukʷalbixʷ valley. When we use the indigenous language of the place we are in, we find even more deep context. If you would like to learn more about Lushootseed and how to pronounce it, you can go deep here.

The landscape where these animals abound is overtaxed in some ways, yet strangely manicured, like a stage set complete with live animals on display. The elk are here, but wolves are missing, this lets the herd stay in the valley without fear of predation year round. The habitat can’t fully sustain such concentration of large animals, and people who choose to develop and live amongst the large herbivores struggle with damage from wild animals moving through. The novelty of local elk still abounds, and attempts are made to mitigate conflict, but the herd is going to be here, so get used to it. The wording is not ideal, but the message is clear enough- the elk are a tourist draw, and also play some part in ecological restoration, but no wolves, and no, we don’t have to pull up stakes and give land back to the native people- I mean, wildlife.

Luckily, there is enough park land to keep the elk fed and wed to place. Enter, “elk land” or as our colonial tongue calls it, Meddowbrook Farm. The baqʷababš once lived here, and managed the open plains that might have been camas prairie long ago. Now there is white clover, plantain, and other colonial introduced forbs and grasses to feed the introduced elk. Why is this a thing? All these introduced species? Well, my colonial ancestors brought them here, shoved themselves into this place with rail and cable to perpetrate ecological genocide on the landscape and just plain old genocide on the people already living there. This is part of tracking folks, and if you are just now hopping onboard- welcome.

I might be leaning too far into the weeds for some of you- after all, you might be reading this blog for entertainment alone. Naturalist entertainment will feature, with some nice plant knowledge- in English so you know the names and understand the plants as things, not beings like ourselves. There is no name for clover in Lushootseed- it has no cultural relevance. For Lushootseed plant names go here.

baqʷab is a place that sums up our world so beautifully. Walking the gravel trail, we passed the remains of a yearling elk, run over by the mower, which keeps the walking trails maintained and accessible year round. There are sign posts to guide walkers around the edge of the fields- they are all in pastəducid (English). To be fair, this 460 acre preserve is owned jointly by two colonial towns. Though it is recognized publicly that the land remains the home of The Snoqualmie Tribe, we the people own it now, and that’s that. Unless you’re actively participating in the land back movement and supporting the sovereignty of local tribes. But hey, walking around in their ancestral lands to check out nature is cool right?

Talk about ancestral, these elk rubs on red alder tell of generations in communication here. The red patches are fresh rubs form this year, where as, the ashen scars are healed over many years. All the ground plants are waist high, manicured down by forging mouths with too little space to feed. Or maybe this is fire suppression at work? The only studies on elk browsing involved aspen in Colorado, so perhaps some money could fund such a study here in The Pacific Northwest some time? I look at the forest floor here and see a lot of missing species, but that’s also more likely due to generations of logging, so let’s not get too hasty to blame the imported elk herd yet. Though I will say, ungulate browsing in one place will prevent new diversity from growing over time. That’s evident here on my own land, where I let the sheep graze. You won’t find trillium or hooker bells in a silvopasture under-story, but you will find them reintroduced in fenced off forest restoration groves.

The habitat where these elk roam remains denuded of many species- and the spruces are being hit hard! I thought black bear cambium bark feeding was rough on trees, but the elk take the prize for continued calamity on a tree- just look at these wounds on the trunks.

I really don’t know how these trees will survive. But that’s concentrated grazing for you. Without predators to pressure the herd, they stay in the candy store as much as possible, until all the sugar goodness is gone. How do the forests survive at all? I’m not sure they will, in time, the trees will be girdled, and there were several standing dead snags in the woods to demonstrate what’s coming down the pipe. Maybe that’s how this prairie was formed originally? Maybe fire played a role too. It’s hard to make clear statements, as there’s not a lot of research out there on these things locally, and might not ever be without curious minds thinking aloud- and funding for the studies. Anyone up for some grant writing? I think I’d much prefer wandering through wetland edges witnessing the changes first hand. These pictures and reflections add to compiled information for the future generations. That can be enough right?

I know you can bring your kids to see the elk in Snoqualmie, and maybe even get close enough for a selfie. Even in hunting season, these elk hang in the valley and know they won’t get shot- unless a master hunt is called after they parade through the local golf course and the country club gets mad. That’s when action against the elk invasion comes to light. I’m not a master hunter, so I won’t be on those country club hunts. To “bag” one of these elk, you have to be lucky enough to find one wandering in the tree farm, and have your proper permits, or around public land near q̓ilbəc̓. I’ve set intentions in the past to harvest one of these outliers, but no luck yet. That’s a lot of meat, and a lot of work for a single person to carry out. I’d rather plan a base camp gathering so I have the extra hands on call if we harvest something. Please know there are laws protecting the hunting of animals, and qualifiers to earn the privilege to hunt- at least here in Washington. Most states have hunting laws, so be informed before you plan a hunt. There are some nice elk in this park, but it’s a park, and the animals are protected. I’m writing this because, once, while observing the elk from a designated viewing site, a man walked over and asked me how he could hunt those elk. It was apparent that he believed he could just bring his gun next time and shoot one. I gave him the fish and wildlife website, along with a few pro-tips for legal harvesting, and left hoping some of what I had shared sunk in.

baqʷab is where the elk sleep, and you’ll find lays all over the place in the field. Wildlife has to have safe places to sleep, eat, drink, breed, and give birth. Colonial development has taken away most of that space, and it reflects in the number of wild things left. None of these elk are from here originally, those herds were hunted to extinction. That does not mean these animals are not playing a part in restoring nature’s balance today. It just means, we have artificial on artificial, and that means a lot of management on the part of people to keep the elk healthy and sustainable. There are several surrounding parks with restoration projects on show. Forests that were fenced off as saplings, are growing into maturing stands now. Some native understory still exists, and will continue to recover if people stay out. Unfortunately, not all the restoration land around this valley is well protected, and some areas are being denuded by careless human habitation.

Near baqʷab, there is an area known as tucuwaʔdəb, it’s a naturalist area now, but was home to five houses know as “dying of tuberculosis”. Need I say more? No, I should. Colonial manifest destiny often sites lots of open, pristine land, ripe for tilling homesteads. No, that land was not just open and empty, there had been millions of people living all over North America before colonial genocide began. Due to other introduced living things, mainly viruses, millions of people died. This was long before small pox blankets, the Spanish conquerors landed in small villages and spread their plagues like wildfire. The cultures and people who had tended the land for thousands of years are still here, and many are trying to share some deep ancestral knowledge about how to better live with the earth, be lived by it in fact, to survive and thrive. Who is ready to listen and learn?

Lots of replanting has happened in tucuwaʔdəb, restoration of the natural world takes time, but is happening there. Elk are coming in, moving through, and people too- maybe too many people. I can see the compacted trails there, trails compacted by many hundreds of people, their dogs, and bikes too. It reminds me of the trails in Central Park, NYC- where I worked for a couple of summers in the late 90s. We would put up hard fencing to keep people out of areas in recovery. It felt like this place needed some hard fencing. On the south side of the river, under a bridge, I used to find all kinds of great tracks in the sand. The bridge protected the sand from rain, and saved weeks of wildlife walk through. Now, people are living under the bridge. That’s a big change for the environment. Wildlife can’t move through now, and trash is piling up, all sorts of junk being hauled in. There is even a spot where a fire is evident, with massive digging up around root balls to stop the fire going into the ground, traveling along the root highways and starting new fires throughout the forest. The whole area was wrecked by people who were already marginalized from somewhere else. People without an understanding of what this intrusion does to them and the ecology the live in. These people may not have grassy parks to lay down on, they may not have protected habitat to survive in. Restoration for all please.

Access is crucial to maintaining successful habitat. The elk have established their own highways through the parks and forests of this valley. They carve out their own space, and show us where the wild edges are. Tracking was sometimes too easy, a hard cut in the soil with so many tracks, the two toe pattern was lost on itself. All the trees were blazed with antler rubs, red gashes, like cuts in the landscape, bleeding for lost ecosystems from long ago. When the dense evergreen forests towered over us, biding only owls and antlers into the woods. The people were in canoes traveling waterways between modest villages full of incredible crafting people with abundance all around. I’m sure there was still discourse and distress in complicated tribal exchanges that sometimes led to war. I don’t think any place was or ever will be perfect, but I do think the people who have lived here since time began, are still the best fit to lead us towards abundance and thriving in balance in this place. For me, that looks like ending colonial cycles of genocide by planting back forest and ending a long line of extraction based wealth madness.

There is still a lot of good life in this colonial legacy to live, and spending time in the last fragments of nature feeds this bright soul, and teaches connection, survival, grounding, and context in this great big world. After many hours of observing and trailing, the kʷagʷičəd revealed themselves and grazed contently on some private land nearby. From the truck, I watched them for almost half and hour, giving thanks for their lessons in adaptation and resiliency. We could all use a little tracking time in our lives, time set aside to be out in nature looking at what’s there, learning from it, and having some deep inward tracking moments that help us better understand place.

I had one of the best visual flights from Seattle to Boston on June 1st, 2026. Above is Snoqualmie Falls, a signature of glacial legacy as The Snoqualmie River travels along from upper to lower valley, fed by The Central Cascades. The small creek that runs through EEC Forest Stewardship runs down to join this great river, highways for salmon in the Fall. On this trip, it was the first time I flew right over this incredible water feature, and what a view. My home is the ancestral home of The Snoqualmie Tribe. They have shared a map with place names to help us colonial legacies better understand the deep history present in this valley. It is important to recognize First Nations and the legacy they continue to hold in connection to place. Wherever you live in North America, there are tribal histories present. Take time to learn about the people who have lived where you are since time immemorial.

q̓əlbc (Lushootseed)

The next icon of my home region is the looming outcrop bulging forth from the foreground. q̓əlbc is a popular hiking destination for determined folk looking to see what summiting the top of Tahoma might feel like in 3100′ of elevation gain. Yes, I’ve climbed the switchback hell- and got a spectacular view, along with plenty of friendly faces and stunned ones. People seem to think a full parking lot means easy. My experience was expected- lots of stops along the way to hydrate, enjoy off trails to boulder fields, old growth stands, and a longer rest at the top to enjoy looking about. Since it has become quite the tourist trap, and no sane person would approach parking in the area during a fine sunny day- or any of the warmer months, I tend to avoid said place, but the view today was that of a soaring metal eagle, appreciating the jet fuel burned thus far for such spectacular appraisal.

Of course there are some elegant looming peaks in most skylines of Western Washington. Tahoma is the most well known in our area, with her white cap and glacial aura year round, projecting up from sea level, a white cap colossal in the sea of blue-green. cʼilíləɬ watches from behind the sister’s right shoulder, another great strata volcano, a 12,276′ monument to our chain in The Ring of Fire. Still a third mountain, blocked in these photos by Tahoma, is Loowit, the sister that threw her fire in jealousy at her older, more good looking sister Tahoma. Yes, they were fighting over modest, but no less handsome cʼilíləɬ. Not a love triangle I’d like to get caught up in, especially when the sisters start throwing fire.

Mountains Tahoma and cʼilíləɬ (Cowlitz)

The less dramatic ridges of evergreen are my most beloved places to wander. I’m not looking to summit a grand peak, just a stroll with mother nature from time to time, her waters sometimes granting me a fish or deer to fill the larder. Mushrooms and berries are still plentiful for those who take the time to mingle a little deeper into the woods. With so much gratitude for the worlds continued abundance in some places, it is good to live here and partake. At this time of year, the mountain peaks should be blanketed in a bit more snow, we had a bad winter, with later storms still lacking in abundant melt water to fill our creeks and streams. Fire season will start soon. Then any flights from this area will remain blind in a blanket of thick brown haze.

The Yamakiasham Yaina (Klamath) Range with Lake Tsi – Laan (Salish) in the Background

For this writing, you might have noticed unfamiliar geographic names, the original names of places where I now live. Though I use Cascades throughout other writings, in this reveal, I try to offer a taste of how foreign we colonial legacies really are to this place. Our English sounding interpretations may be what’s used today, but the language cannot harness what is known by people who have lived in the area for over ten thousand years- before time was recorded and measured by academic intentions. The millions of years in geologic time push us back further still. To the formation of these mountains, the volcanoes, and subduction that local oral histories have warned of for generations before any Europeans sailed in. That’s how we first intruded, in tall ships that ignored already settled coastlines. Cook came here after his first Hawaii genocide. I say this because illness came off the ship and into the villages of the native people. This bumbling captain then sought out the northwest passage and wandered all over the west coast and what is now Alaska, seeking any hint of short cut from even obscure Russian maps and Spanish rumors. I can’t imagine how the crew felt, being so far flung from home, but the short cut was not to be, and Cook returned to Hawaii, where he was killed for being so obtuse.

How had Cook avoided sailing inland to The Salish Sea? Passing it in the night, he denied its existence, because he didn’t see it in person- good thing too. My history classes growing up taught me the marine explorers were amazing people that went on epic adventures. I now know better, and strive to assimilate the knowledge that Colonial invaders were not helpful, or welcome in the wild places they explored. Though metal tools were compelling trade, disease and casual murder of native people who were seen as animals, and not people, will forever haunt the “lasting achievements” of pompous white men. Today, the majority of old growth forests in The Pacific Northwest are long cut and gone, with the pollution of generations bent on extraction now poisoning our very earth, water, and soil, without any consequence to investors and the robber barons that paid for such inductions.

Oniaagarah or Ochniagarah known to First Nations Canadians as “the thunder of waters”

Meanwhile, on the opposite coast of this vast continent, America was taking shape. Cook sailed his Northwest Passage Quest around 1778, but would most likely not yet gotten the news that The Colonies had separated from His Majesty King George a few years earlier. In Upstate New York, on the boarder with Canada, there sits another famous waterfall- Niagara. It is also a sacred place to the many tribal people that have always lived there. Though today the area is heavily built up for tourism, tribes still come to pay homage to their sacred waters. These cultural activities remain unseen by the majority of colonial legacies, out ancestors made sure to destroy evidence of tribal people where ever they went. After all, if you can see evidence of those who lived there before, you have to think about what you did to them to get their land, and that may not feel very good to us, or our future generations. But it’s not about guilt, it’s about naming the truth and saying it out loud. Acknowledging the past preserves the future for all. If we continue to ignore the past, we’re bound to keep repeating it.

How can colonial lineages make a difference? Start by learning about who lived on your land before you. Are the tribes still around and present? Can you find a way to support them? This can look like volunteering to support restoration projects, learning some of the language- especially place names, and understanding what happened to remove them in the first place. If you can, plan to will your property to local tribes in reparation for our ancestors who stole that land in the first place. Giving the land back is the best way to heal trauma and return this land to it’s original stewards. If you don’t own land, how can you still work to make the land healthy and productive? What can you do to serve wildlife and restore habitat? How can you share knowledge with others, helping fellow colonial legacies to see what has happened and learn the full narrative of American History? Doing this good work will free all of us from our haunting legacies, and make space for healing and recovery for the land and all the people. Even if you just take the time to learn the name of the tribe that lives where you are, that’s a first great step in naming place and people.

Gratitude for all life on earth, for our original instruction to tend the living world, and be lived by it. Thanks to all who share in each breath we take, hearts open, minds receptive to the great change that is needed for our very survival. May the adaptations happen gently, may the people come together in celebration at the wholeness of this earth.

The flock of geese grows well and good here at Leafhopper Farm. Eight goslings are now loosing their baby down and sprouting fine feathers. The markings of saddle backs continues to come through on the piebald, while the solids brighten into their pure white down. They have adapted to life behind electric mesh fencing, and try to climb into the water buckets, which they can get stuck in, so I’ve had to really watch certain mundane objects that can be lethal to these young ones. Last year one did drown in a trough, so the threat is real. Geese do not spend all their time in water, and will become hypothermic if swimming for an extended period of time. I also found one the other day on its back with no way to turn back over, it was uneven ground, but it had been struggling for a while and seemed quite stressed by the experience. I was concerned about the mesh netting, but as long as it’s hot, the birds seem to feel the energetic boundary and keep well away.

Have I mentioned how much I love Cotton Patch geese? Yes, it’s true, they are wonderful poultry to keep, and do a lot for the land, but, you have to keep them well fenced to prevent garden wandering and pond scumming. With 10 now, the pond turned green after only a few days of summer use, so we’re fencing the geese out to keep things cleaner. Cotton patch are quiet, calm, and attentive. They listen to me when I ask them to “go inside” their stall, and will keep to themselves when amongst the other animals. I can approach them without being attacked, in fact, unless it’s nesting season or the birds are cornered, they avoid and shy away. Anyone familiar with geese will be shocked to hear this. It’s true though, Cotton Patch geese are mild mannered. They do occasionally honk though- which is loud. But my neighbors on the other side of the creek have African geese that are very loud a lot of the time, so I can see why many people avoid keeping geese, but these geese are mostly quiet. They are also great eating, and provide a good amount of grease for cooking and other needs. The down is soft, and can be collected and used to make bedding and winter wear. I’m saving my down up for a comforter.

These animals excel at grazing, but are not a replacement for lawn mowers. Our sheep do the main cutting, then the geese follow behind cleaning up, and maintaining the lawn until it grows back in and needs another grazing down. I can understand why many people keep mowing between grazing to keep certain vegetation down. Here at EEC Forest Stewardship, we rarely mow- and would need someone to bring in equipment when we do. I have a weed wacker to keep stuff off the buildings and gate entrances, but all the rest is done by the animals, which saves on gas and grows more meat for the table. That’s smart husbandry in my book. Speaking of husbandry, the goose plan is to keep just the breeding pair, for now. So this young lot will be sold or slaughtered- if you are in the market for a good pair of geese, contact me at escocrain@gmail.com. We’re asking $75 each for this rare and amazing breed, and you must take at least two, as they are social creatures who need friends to feel safe and happy. I can’t say enough about how easy and gentle these geese are, so if you are new to the species, this is the breed to start with for sure.

I’ve flown back and forth across the US several times, and always get a window seat to check out the world below. On June 1st, 2026, something below caught my eye- a noticeable number of fields were left unplanted. It was actually expected, I’d watched the tariffs ruin commodity agriculture and knew there’s no place to store new crops of soy, corn, and wheat. Gas prices have left an industrial food system on its knees and farmers can’t spend the money to keep their heavy equipment running in the fields. This economic system uses the most fuel of any in our nation. I call it an economic one, because food is not really the outcome- it’s subsidies. The money in commodity agriculture lies in exports. We send food to aid other nations, well, not any more- and hey, stabilizing the price of soy by locking in foreign investment keeps profits predictable in a practice that has always been at the behest of nature. Megalomania says otherwise, and through some tactical post war finagling, a green revolution brought us stable crop yields and sometimes embarrassing abundance.

I’ve seen milk spilled out on the ground because there is too much and the cows don’t stop producing, in western Oklahoma, peanuts dumped on the roadside. Overflow harvest over-tops granaries. Right now, the unsold soy, corn, and wheat are sitting in the silos. Farmers already see the writing on the wall for next year’s crop prices– which are never fully locked in. This is the financial difficulty in farming, there is not a predictable market. When volatile crashes, like 2008 occur, we can track downturns and upturns in the agricultural industry related to energy costs, export delays, and geopolitical shifts. The later is severely diminished in recent months. We’ve alienated many trading partners, causing rifts in time honored agreements between alleys, while allowed social politicking to enter our financial world. Farmers watch these global actions, but sadly, tend to vote for social conservatism, being rural voices, but mostly white, and therefor, receiving cultural representation in their fellow white patriarchies.

Being from the heart of this country in Oklahoma, I can speak to tired old white man syndrome. He’s old, crotchety, mean, and spiteful- all embraced as tough survival minded ego, all good things for domination. Women keep the train of ornery kin birthed, fed, clothed, and cultivated for better or worse. Men just run the fun stuff and avoid responsibility for their actions. We have to fight those over there because the military industrial complex says so. We send our young people to fight for our country- who is attacking us? Why are we so afraid? That’s the message I feel from middle America fear. And no wonder; it’s drying up- literally and figuratively, the emotional left long ago. Now this agricultural flyover remains white bread white bred wholesome god head following submission to authority. We are the sports ball beef smoking gun toting nightmares in under-educated masses. Because it’s better to watch man sport than read a book or even have a conversation. Eat fuck drink truck and everyone else- get out ‘ the way. What a selfish revelry- imagine when women choose themselves first and become godless, childless, cat ladies. Two are curled up beside me right now- and I don’t think of them as fur babies.

So, more unplanted- left bare. Wow, that took a turn right? Did you think we were just talking about crops and stocks? Yeah- the whole world is lit. Lit with the fire of industry- that’s not a good thing in LOTR. Speaking of colonial privileged white men, Canada is planting its fields. I noted this on the flight back to Seattle 10 days later. Sorry the quality is not so clear, but this window was a little fogged.

I’ll put USA and Canada side by side to compare- the fields of gold on left are the stubble from last year’s harvest, they should be cover cropped or tilled and replanted with young green crops sprouting up. In Canada, young green sprouting and freshly tilled and planted fields go on as far as the eye can see. Our northern neighbor is not struggling with tariff wars of blundering

The difference is uncanny. I also want to clarify that these pictures are roughly the same place longitudinally in North Dakota and Manitoba using OnX while flying. June 1st should find fields across our northern hemisphere planted and well into growth towards late spring harvest, or maximum summer sun production. Warmest temperatures happen over the next few months, and in farming, timing is everything. I was concerned, thinking about the trickle down pricing as storage stagnation continues. How can population grow further if maximum grain storage has been reached? Are we at capacity as a society? Might there even be a drop in value to level out our delusions of grandeur. Wheat futures certainly think so.

What if, instead of leaving fields bare, we thought of planting some more land in fruit and nut trees, food forests, wild grasslands, wildlife corridors- that’s my own special vision for these empty places, signaling a need for change in the environment. Maybe a coalition of rewilding can begin, opening up migration corridors for animals, and a Renaissance in native plants and habitat to refill landscapes with wildlife throughout North America? What if there were walking trails connecting across the continent? There are vast opportunities if we think in a restorative mindset. Of course, a lot of private land would have to be re-designated, and people would have to be willing to agree to these changes to public, along with local stewardship, and some kind of trust for transition costs- or in some cases, just initial replanting of native species. It could be a dream, but there is land available now, and if we don’t start rewilding places, there will not be enough finite resources left to thrive as a population. Industrial greed is willing to plunder everything, at the cost of our natural world.

How can we make the change a reality? Do you have a local tribal movement for land back? Are they leading with restoration and stewardship for the protection of the natural world? Could you partner with such people and learn ways to better your local environment? Here in The Snoqualmie Valley, the tribe had land restoration meet ups open to the public. At these publicized events, people come with gloves and work cloths to tend the land by removing invasive species, replanting natives, and stewarding forest and understory to repair the land. These events are for the local public to help take part in restoring natural habitat to the landscape, repairing literal damage caused by colonial greed by replanting, but also spiritual and emotional damage caused by continued abuse and ignorance of the first nations living here in harmony with the land for thousands of years. Our cultural grief cannot be addressed and repaired until we as human kind, understand the history of colonial abuse around the world.

Industrial agricultural genocide is coming to an end, and if we cannot pivot to smarter, grounded restoration to refill the incredible cup of abundance that these lands already offer in their glorious native ecology and culture, tended with community and connection. We the people will continue to fade into the maws of corporate greed legacy and socially engineered fear mongering towards otherness if we cannot move the agenda back to humanity’s dependency on mother nature to survive. No computer AI could possibly run the global ecosystem and create the resiliency that humankind has the capacity to undertake, and in some rare cases, continue to undertake in our day to day lives. Look to those who still live closely with the earth, within her limitations, and still evolving and maintaining thriving culture in community through deep connection to place and people.

The more immediate implications of empty fields, is empty plates, empty wallets, and economic downturn. With the cost of farming at an all time high- I just bought half my annual hay- staggering that purchase to keep costs manageable through the next 6-8 months. I may have most of my flock in the meat locker before breeding season to weather the current costs. Luckily, the farm can make such flexes. For people with children, a lot of debt, no insurance, or month to month hand to mouth- the future will be bleak. How did we get here? How did we get to a place where farmer’s rely on export and subsidies, forsaking the natural world for an industrial one and still expect limitless production? We know we can’t make something out of nothing, but already, our addiction to fossil fuels is paying us back in microplastics, forever chemicals, and cancer. Think of the empty fields and missing pieces of ourselves.

What will fill in the gaps? Hunger? Economic ruin? Recession? Famine? Why speak in such fears? Well, the ecological collapse is already well on its way, and without major effective change in our own actions, we the people will be facing quite the hunger pang, and not just on the table- also in our earnings, retirement, healthcare, generational stability- the list is endless. So, if you have read this far down, how are you shifting your own life towards resiliency in community? Who are your people in a pinch? How are you earning and spending your social currency? Money certainly has a place, but relationships and shared vision are imperative to long term adaptation and flourishing. Our tech can only take us so far in this endeavor, face to face wins in the end, so look to your family, friends, and neighbors for the basket of community that allows us to thrive together, even in the lean times to come.

Hello from Washington State, with one of the lowest electrical costs to residential consumers of almost anywhere in the US. Well, it was, but with a 15% rise over the past few years, and a 30% rise this year alone, our state’s cheap power is not going to last. Even in the midst of a bad time for green energy projects in The US, we’re still putting up solar. I built mine last fall, and it’s paying off already. I had one of my two meters $0 out last billing session. This summer, I’ll bank credits, and even with the rate rise, my production should outpace the cost of electrical energy into the future. That’s compelling in a market that’s betting on AI in tech, while oil creeps towards $200 a barrel.

There are places in the US building massive solar banks, even during an administration that’s hard against it. In a state like Oklahoma, known for its petroleum industries, the site of miles of solar grid going up might surprise you. It’s true though, but it’s not to offset fossil fuels. it’s to run AI data centers. Because Oklahoma is in the middle of the country, it could seem strategic for a growing national network of AI centers. Local laws have even been accommodating- in places like Tulsa. Other AI companies are setting up in Oklahoma quietly, with broad location announcements. I could not find information on the one I drove through on the way back to the airport from Dad’s in March, 2026. It’s quite the complex, and I’m not sure if an AI center is going in too, or just the solar array and battery banks.

I drove through almost two miles of this, on either side of the road. What was once range land, overgrazed by cattle for over a century, now covered in metal stands cemented deep into red clay, mounting solar panels, made of heavily mined finite resources, now slow leeching into the soil. I’ve got it at my place too, on a much smaller scale, but no less devastating to the environments we’ll most likely never step foot in. I’ve written about green wash costs before, but cobalt from Congo is one of the most compelling, if you need a refresher. There is a push for energy diversity in the portfolio, and Oklahoma has embraced a lot of wind in the past couple of decades. Solar seems like the next smart investment, and even though Oklahoma is not giving tax breaks with enthusiasm, the sun calls and the panels cometh.

If the energy boom was for a good cause, I’d champion it. But Here in western Oklahoma, the amount of water AI centers will demand could up end the brittle structure of drought this ecology encounters more often than not. A century of planning water catchment and soil retention after The Dust Bowl, has worked to slow desertification, and even reclaim a lot of land to agriculture once more. However, the injector wells and pumping down of the greater aquifer in the region over the past half century, begins to inflict consequences on a population assured by corporate PR and paychecks, that the industry is good for the people. The small town of Lookeba, with just 78 inhabitants in the 2020 census, had to start hauling water after its wells were contaminated by arsenic. Though in the soil across America, this toxin can eventually contaminate naturally as more water is drawn out, the potential contamination through injection wells.

In a town with population 78, and other surrounding communities dropping in population, the industry continues to pump for recovery, sometimes called fracking. The class II wells that operate in Caddo County occupy almost every parcel of land on the map. There are two wells within site of my Dad’s house. Another 10 dot the landscape just beyond our immediate neighbors. As a child, I would fall asleep to the sound of diesel engines pumping through the night. Now there is some pumping noise occasionally, but most of the wells are capped and piped together through the landscape. A web of extraction, I’m not sure to what end, because Oklahoma is still importing crude oil, in fact, it’s the state’s #1 import almost 40% of the state’s total import. This kind of threw me. Until I then figured out that Oklahoma refines a lot of crud oil, and so, imports a lot to keep refining well beyond it’s own capacity to drill. It’s also a huge natural gas producer and user, 2/5ths of it’s electricity is produced by natural gas. Solar is still a minute measurement of the state’s energy production, but it will continue to grow.

My roadside pictures cannot quite capture these new energy production builds, but I promise you they are square miles of landscape now covered in solar panels. The concern I have revolves around what’s left of wildlife and ecology in Oklahoma. I grew up as a child catching box turtles and horned toads, as well as American toads and leopard frogs. I don’t see any of these indicator species around my childhood grounds any more. I have not seen a horned toad in decades. Countless natural areas of Oklahoma have been lost to industrial drilling, chemical spraying, and commercial agriculture. It’s painful to go home and see all this ruin. It’s finally catching up to the local people too. Cancer takes so many here. The economy is gone from main street. Driving through Dad’s home town is like driving through most of rural Oklahoma, like so many rural places all across The American Midwest. Empty store fronts, struggling neighborhoods, and young people fleeing to cities, desperate for employment and opportunity.

Perhaps that’s what industry hopes for, the complete depopulation of these rural places so industry can completely take over. AI data centers can still use arsenic poisoned water to cool the networks. The land lays still beneath whirling turbines, black solar arrays, pumping gas wells, and trains carrying oil and gas across the whole country without limitations or any guardrails at all. We are now products ourselves, data points in a spread sheet of dividends to a few ultra-wealthy investors. You and I will never be in those board meetings, or have a say in where our investments go once the money is paid. Though I live in a west coast progressive state, what happens in Oklahoma still affects me, and I know the toxic water from fracking will evaporate into the air, and travel around the globe in our vast climate systems that are globally connected, like our finances now.

People may think their online streaming is outside this ecological destruction, but quite the opposite is true- your online streaming and AI play costs the planet in clean air, safe drinking water, and unpolluted soil to grow food. You think we can afford all the expensive inputs for hydroponic crop systems? Think again. In watching our agricultural land slowly turn over into housing developments or data centers, I wonder how we’re going to feed the future generations safely. Don’t think technology has already solved any of this- and if it’s claiming to, know that it’s a false narrative to sooth concerned investors who might still be listening to science. What we need to grasp most importantly, is the word finite. Out water, air, and food comes from finite resources, not to mention all the metals in our beloved tech. Rare earth minerals are rare- yet we’re churning out new phones, computers, and other screens to make our lives more lethargic and hands off. It shows up in our gut- and those fat shots will not stop the rising rates of prostate cancer around the world.

It’s all interconnected, and with a 2 billion dollar a day war on in Iran, we’re continuing to tip the scale against survival, and all in with profits to a hand full of greedy people who do not care if you’re water is safe to drink- they want money, and boy are they getting it, hand over fist. That same fist is punching a pregnant mother in her stomach- not literally, but in the form of polluted water she drinks, bad diet in empty calories from an oil driven agricultural system that starves her, and dirty air she and her future baby will breath, compromising their lungs and shortening their lives. But that’s all window dressing of a woke agenda right? Go ahead and keep drinking the cool-aid- it’s giving you cancer, and since we voted against universal healthcare- time and again, we’re overdue now for a colonoscope, and the outlook is not good. Just put up a few more data centers and we’ll all be cooked. A frog in a slow boiling pot all the way!

Below is more information about “data” centers and what’s really going on. Note- I’m also not even cracking the surface on these centers and the surveillance over citizens they are providing. They should be called surveillance centers, but “data” sounds nicer.

Thank you to my friend Peg for sharing this amazing story with me. I now share it with you, that we may all let the film from our eyes fall. Gratitude to The Tlingit, for offering this important lesson, art form, language, imagery, and connection. May all First Nations People continue to survive and thrive in the face of colonial acts, which continue into the 21st century.

Gary Snyder also wrote an inspired folktale, related to his relationships with Tribal People. I offer this academic reflection of the writing here. These are the places I can come from around such impactful story telling, in a language I will never fully understand, from a people holding wildness, something I long for, but will forever be apart from through my own ancestry, and the choice to keep the film over their eyes. Survival can be a difficult thing to wrestle with. We are compelled by it, yet lured into false narratives of co-existence, which only works through a series of domestications. Acts of setting down our own harvesting tools, not seeing the richness of animal dung- signs of abundance, enough for all, rewards of fullness. Where is togetherness? We return to a village, the people await to celebrate. When our carelessness becomes habit, we drop the basket and blame the other. Something that does not look like us, still carries the same wants and needs. A fine home, lush furnishings, favorite foods- all these things bring comfort. Do I take out my gun to shoot that other? Threats are real- grizzlies could kill you, take a gun. But wait, when there are plenty of berries, everyone is full. What happened to the larder? Where has abundance gone? I keep cycling through this story, and recognizing all the concerns I’ve been carrying. When there are no more berries, everyone starts packing a gun. We shoot her husband, wait, the bear led her into comfort. Was he a sorcerer? I don’t know- the lineage is not my own people, though maybe it is.

Pete Castle grounds us in yet another tale of The Woman Who Married A Bear. There is song and dance that goes along with the story, in which the bear is killed yet again. Though a far cry from Kent England, there are similar messages of gender, custom; parts of the experience I gravitate towards through first hand experience, berry harvesting, being distracted, frustration and cursing the other. Myself, already separated in this current cultural melting pot, without facing genocide, I woke up and all the berries were gone. It was not just a hard winter and late frost culling young blossoms, the rains were full of microplastics, and we all kept looking at our phones.

I sat last Fall, looking at bear sign all around. I sat with a rifle, asking what the bear wanted- seeing his place, wanting to be lived by it- a part of wilderness. I took pictures with my phone- and maybe a selfie. I had not brought any basket for harvesting. My intentions were to wander, seek out his attention. What am I looking for? Kindness, fierceness, a willing to sacrifice, can I not find this in myself? I have put on a bear skin-worn it, lifted the heavy weight of that once living creature, curiosity. I’ve been in the presence of bears, mostly black, and still compelling majesty. The skinned carcass- once brought to my house for pressure canning, salvaged from a hunter in the woods near my home looks like a child. The frightening resemblance in shape and deed, putting on the winter fat, storing enough, that we step in its rich excretion. Our fall comes in negative thought.

Being out in the nature of things, breathing forest, trickling showers orchestrate mossy ribbons of shimmering obsidian. When an elk antler hits the edge of fire glass, striking off the blade to cut through generations of harvesting. When we had claws, and tore at the earth, looking for insects and learning the diet of our ancestors. There could be so much healing. In looking at the small things, we see ourselves most perfectly attuned. Violent strikes in the everyday quest for subsistence. What does it feel like to be gluttonous? So much salmon, grass (rice), and seaweed from our ocean home. Tides recede, but the table was taken apart, relocated to a boiler or some suburban chicken coop. Avian bird flu and pandemic depths, reoccuring nightmares of starvation- it’s happening close to our own neighbors, or in ourselves, at least spiritually.

Friends are weeping at the loss of our table, there is not enough left in the larder. Do we go back down the same path looking for berries? Our bear husbands will follow us, still stalking in the shadows, casting spells of enchantment- or just embracing our willful blindness. When the other is gone, there are no berries left in the forest. His shit carries the seeds, plants new larders, and completes the circle of life that lifts up the trees we build our shelters from; but we made so many like ourselves, we’ve cut down all the forests, replanting them in mono-cultures, like our own legacies, pencils stuck in rows upon rows. When I look longingly into wild places, the shame of my willful blindness hurts generations to come.

How do I come back from this? In the tree farm, there are still berries, I can pick them, pull together people from many different backgrounds for a feast, light fire and tell stories together. I can reach back into the human condition, and work slowly to understand what is unraveling at one end, only to weave a new basket at the other, this cycle, and my place in it, comes in each breath, heart felt lesson, and a willingness to keep on learning self and other, allowing all strands here today- speaking of witch, I’ve been referencing white guys, which I am a product of, but would like to recenter the narrative about woman, still told by men. Enter Laura Grizzlypaws, and her incredible BEAR DANCE. Healing happens through dance, can I take up the British story and dance in a new way? Riding wefted age, spinning slowly into being. Am I wrapping my arms around a bear, shitting gold, or calling to my friend, asking her to focus? I think I want to have the gun, be the friend, have my mind set on feasting together back in the village, wrapped in community that celebrates what they live within.

Women are together at their best, they are harvesting the future, looking forward to the people gathering, awake to surroundings and speaking blessings to abundance. As I watch Grizzlypaws reaching, jumping up into the air, I see the bear harvesting bounty for the people. May the bounty return with good stewardship and the retired legacy of distraction and self-deceit. We are stronger together, listening and watching led to understanding. There are still blind spots, even the friend thought the woman was dead. We still cry for what’s lost. Condolences must be said, actions speak volumes, and words frame the music of all our dancing. May your movements be a revelation, and try not to slip in bear shit.