EEC Forest Stewardship

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.

This is my little t-rex army. They produce nice healthy eggs to eat, decent meat on the bone, beautiful feathers, and countless daily tasks to bring fertility to the soil here at EEC Forest Stewardship. Chickens are always a gateway livestock animal for new farmers, and I encourage everyone with the right land to get some. The key is feeding them the right diet, so what they are spreading on your landscape is good organic matter. Though people complain about the expense of organic grain, it’s worth it to keep our pastures healthy with the right balance of nutrients to grow healthy greens for healthy animals and people. If the birds were on a conventional diet- that would be what they would spread all over the land, and cooked pellets are nutrient poor, and not good for the soil. I think farmers often forget what goes in will come back out again, and so, to keep up affordability, they buy the cheaper stuff, but it will reflect in the health of the land and the birds themselves. I don’t offer my birds any other inputs- the organic scratch and peck layer mash is all they need. It includes oyster shell, trace minerals, and no corn or soy.

The birds reflect this good diet, along with the free ranging they do on healthy pasture. I’ve never had flock issues like plucking, pecking, or bullying of certain birds. I think this is partially diet, and also number of birds in the flock. I never go over 30 at one time. This is the magic number for flock health, and keeps everyone feeling like they have the space they need, while allowing two well behaved roosters to cover the hens. It is suggested you have no more than 15 hens per rooster, so 29 hens and 2 roosters works perfectly. I highly recommend this flock size for a modest farm or homestead. Yes, commercial flocks are much larger, but usually, when you’re looking at industrial chicken operations, you’re also looking at confinement on dead ground, because a pasture must be tens of acres to host such flock numbers full time. Commercial flocks also have lots of plucked feathers, pecked hens, and generally unhappy birds that don’t move around much. My birds come running to greet me in the morning, and work all day to glean, scrape, and till the soil.

A happy flock makes happy eggs, and a happy farmer to care for the birds. I don’t have to fight off angry roosters, wrestle with hens on the nest for eggs, or worry about a bird getting beaten up by the others over space or food. I also don’t have to train the birds on what to do at the farm. They are diligently gleaning pest bugs, moving raw dirt around to make sure it’s well aerated for future planting, and they spread nutrient dense manure all over the upper fields, where our fruit trees and berry bushes are in need of extra fertilizer. The guano is priceless, as the cost of inputs continues to rise, we’re glad the birds are putting down good poo in the fields- and spreading it too, so no machines are needed. In commercial fields, they have to mechanically spread manure, and spray crops to keep bugs under control. Not so at Leafhopper Farm, but again, scale is important. We are not supplying our local grocery store with eggs, we now only sell directly to our clients, by word of mouth. Monthly subscriptions are offered during the summer months, but in winter, laying slows to a crawl, because my hens do not get put under lights to artificially keep them in full time production.

Following the natural biorhythms of the flock ensures their best quality of life, with a break in winter to let their bodies rest and build up some winter fat to keep warm. Could you imagine eating eggs only during the warmer months? Well, that would be true seasonal eating. You can pickle eggs, and I know why you should if you want to enjoy them in bulk, year round. That’s right- a lot of people don’t know that to keep eggs coming year round, birds are put under lights to keep them producing. This stresses the birds, and certainly shortens their lives by several years, but commercial birds are only kept in production for a few years- five at most, most only three. Then they are slaughtered and put into animal feed or sometimes soup stock and what not. You will not see layer hens wrapped up in your local supermarket- they don’t have the meat frame to carry enough edible muscle mass. That’s why meat birds are a different animal completely. Though here at Leafhopper Farm, we’ve been selectively breeding for a more duel purpose bird, with egg laying and some meat to the bone. Duel use birds are more of a heritage thing, because that industrial bird is bred for one thing- eggs or meat, and never both, because that would be a waste of expensive inputs for less output.

Duel use animals have to compromise somewhere- so they lay less eggs overall. and will never fully bulk out like a meat animal would. That works just fine here on our small farmstead, as we feed all our poultry the same great organic grains and accept that not all the hens will lay an egg every day. I think that would be exhausting, and not much of a life for the animal. Quality of life for all things growing on at our farm remains a priority. I want all my animals to get good pasture time to move about in their natural state, as well as healthy, well rounded diet that includes as much fresh veg as we can provide seasonally. In winter, the hens still peck around in the frosty pasture, and remain active year round in the fields. This keeps the fertility banking in the soil for future planting. We don’t need to put supplemental nutrients in our pastures to keep the soil viable. One expensive organic grain purchase covers all those other bases. Even the much needed lime is there from ground limestone. Our other major soil amendment, magnesium, is also in the layer feed, so the soil gets the extra nutrients it needs from the organic feed. I wish more farmers knew this, or even thought about it. One expensive input carries everything our pastures need to remain productive and sound. And our birds spread it, till it in, and all without an ounce of fossil fuel for the labor.

Imagine if industrial farming could pick up on this simple solution to getting the birds fed, fields fertilized, and the farmer’s mind at ease with reduced costs all around. The land here reflects this smart system of small scale production, and it leaves me feeling good about my livestock practices, as well as producing a happy, healthy flock of birds. So, next time you hear the phrase “bird brain” give the chickens a little credit- they are working hard each day without any need for pay. They just get a good organic meal and all the pasture they want to wander in. I get the best eggs you’ll ever taste, good pasture care, and piece of mind in knowing what I’m eating was eating the best it could before coming to the table to feed me. That’s worth the investment- and how!

It’s early May, 2026 and the pond is waking up with a flush of new koi fry. I’ve been waiting to see the young fish come up from the bottom, where they overwinter in a sort of hibernation. It’s been warming up fast here, and the fish are finally kissing the surface once more. I love these suprises on the land, though I expect it at some point, things vary year to year, and this year, the fish were a little later in surfacing, but here they are, and oh how they are thriving.

I don’t feed the fish, they survive off what comes into the pond naturally, from bugs to small frogs and other aquatic life. The koi have been living on their own in the pond now since they were introduced in 2016. Because the pond is completely isolated from wild water, it’s ok to bring in fish. If this pond drained into the creek below, we could not put fish in it. That’s important to remember when you are bringing in a new aquatic species. Make sure your domestic water is not connected to any wild outlet, or what you introduce can spread to the wild, and that can be a very bad thing. Carp (the foundation species of decorative koi) are invading The Great Lakes, and out competing a lot of yummy eating fish. Carp are great survivalists, which makes them a good candidate for farm ponds, as they can survive in much warmer water than a lot of our native fish. Our pond also has an aerator, to keep the water oxygenated. Oxygen in water is crucial for fish survival. There are several places now in wild water, especially off the coast of major rivers, where “dead zones” have formed. These are currents where nitrogen is carried from agricultural runoff into the ocean to eddy about. Nitrogen starves the water of oxygen, thus suffocating any life in that concentration space. There are global maps of the worst areas, most near industrialized farming along the coasts.

Putting an aerator in the pond keeps enough O in the H2O scene, thus helping the fish get a little extra boost in their habitat. But the water in the pond is not crystal clear. That’s partially due to all the fish swimming around up and down form the bottom, but it’s also about bird traffic. The geese love the pond, and prefer being in it when they can. I’ve begun regulating their use of the water feature, as they can really muck it up. Waterfowl are messy, and too many birds can fill the pond with experiment, disrupting the PH balance and inviting bad algae blooms. We had a bad algae breakout a few years ago, after I raised about 20 runner ducks, which found their way into the pond. It took some serious filtering to clean up the aftermath. Point is- a pond needs a lot of tending and protecting, especially if it’s a closed system without much inflow or outflow. This pond is spring fed, along with rain catchment from the gravel drive above. swales and pipes redirect surface water into the huge pond basin. It still has not crested at the outflow yet, but every once in a while there will be a bad storm that dumps a lot of rain. That fills the pond to almost overflow, but it still remains below the overflow system. There is an additional catchment basin next to the pond, in case it overflows. If you build a pond, you should have at least one overflow catchment, or more, depending on size and water retention. We had an engineer come give his blessing on our design. I wanted to make sure that even if our pond berm failed, the water would not be a threat to downhill neighbors, and it’s not at all.

Over the years, I have also made sure to keep the banks relatively clear of brush. There are a few young willows I keep for shade, but they are trimmed back each year to prevent overgrowth. I want to be able to see the surface of the water to monitor cleanliness. Yet fish do need shelter from the hot sun, and a place to lay eggs. The small fry also need a place to shelter from bigger fish, and there are some bigger fish in the pond now. I tried to take pictures, but it’s hard to tell size in them. Some of the more mature fish look about 6-8″ long, but I have not captured any to officially measure. I will try putting a pole in later this summer. I think some of the fish are large enough now to harvest and grill up for eating. Carp are bony fish, but make excellent soup stock. Is this aquaculture? Not really, but it’s a great passive system that does continue to produce fish with no extra feed. That’s certainly production, though on a small scale.

The fish survive cold winter by sleeping on the bottom, and this pond is deep enough to protect them through the cold months. If your pond is too shallow, which most koi ponds are- so you can see and enjoy the fish, you need a heater for the winter. This pond is certainly deep enough, so no extra heat is needed. Imagine paying to heat a pool you never swam in? No, we won’t be heating the pond, only oxygenating for now. And so, we have several generations of koi now, with more on the way. Imagine when the long term survivors get to a mature age and size. I look forward to seeing the unique markings of the fish as they grow larger. For now, it’s just hints as tones other than brown- though many of this young fish are mud colors- that’s the carp genes coming back in. If we don’t eventually put more koi color genes in, the fish will all revert back to brown carp colors.

So, as we enter into the summer months, it will be exciting to see how many fish are getting bigger, if there are any eating sized yet, and how many we’ll loose to wild birds. Yes, great blue heron and kingfishers visit the pond once in a while. I’m sure they get quite a feeding, but that’s what the pond is there for. I did build it for the herons, and any other wild bird in need of a quiet place to hang- though our barn cats would pressure any nesting around the water. We also get raccoons once in a while, and they are not great neighbors for our fish or the chickens and geese that the farm does raise. With the poultry now sequestered being portable electric mesh fencing, the pond can thrive with fish and other wildlife that wishes to partake. So much gratitude to water, fish, and self-sustainability.

We’ll, another afternoon up in the peaks and I didn’t pack my snowshoes. The hike didn’t start in this snow drift, but I had planned on snow as I ascended on my journey into The Alpine Lakes Wilderness. About a decade ago, I drove up to this point with my mentor, but it’s grown in quite a bit, and some more recent edge collapses along the ledge make the road a trail from now on. I’m happy about that, because it means nature will come back into her own a bit, and the land can slowly heal. I’d like to spend more time getting to know this area, and so, on a sunny afternoon, I hiked up into the clouds. It’s not something intuitive for most- warm sunny day in the valley, clouds banking in up above in the mountains, most people would spend the sunny day below, but I was craving the last of winter’s fading glory, and so, I took another quest to the snow line, and then beyond.

Acres of plantation forest fly by as I take each switchback methodically, at some turns, the trees open up to reveal Snoqualmie Valley below. Both the upper and lower expanses are visible from this ridge-line, though today, I was at the northern side of the property, so I had a glimpse of my own home ridges and hillsides far below. Some of the angles between peaks can be a little disorienting. At one point, I had hiked a ways in and turned to see the clouds lift, revealing scars on the slope. This part of the tree farm hosts a recent burn. The ridge went up in October, 2022 during The Lock Katrine fire, which was started by people. Here, the fire damage was up close, and I wondered at what had survived. The ecology of this region is built on sudden change, from landslides, earthquakes, volcanoes, lahars, glaciers, flooding, and general tectonic activity throughout the west coast as a whole. The Ring of Fire is an epic place to call home.

Wildfires are one of the more common and devastating seasons here in The Pacific Northwest. 2022 was a particularly hard year, with fires catching close to home in two areas to our east. The Bolt Creek Fire was another frightening blaze that had burned for months along a major highway, threatening many towns. The Loch Katrine Fire was in an unpopulated area, and was allowed to burn a more natural course with rains in the forecast. It did go on for a few weeks, and was a smoke menace to several parts of our valley, but the blaze ended in late October, and the start of the wet season smothered our fears of flame. The scars are still quite visible along the slopes, but nature will return to her own once more, and the plantation mono-culture has replanted for future timber sales. Not all the stands of forest are lost in these burns, but a lot more stand green in the wilderness, compared to the tree farm monoculture. Wild forests keep their biomass through the centuries, and build up a sponge of material at their base which holds rain and banks it in the soil, even on slopes. This creates resiliency to fire throughout the forest, and more stands survive to reseed a new forest after the burn. Much of the ground cover still has its roots, as the soil dampness prevents hot burning fires that scald the topsoil. I’ll have to plan a day to hike over there to compare the recovery.

The picture above is a burn scar across a ridge line in The Alpine Lake Wilderness. Below is a map of the fire, and that second red patch on the right is where this burn happened. I was standing on the ridge line to the left of DIV N on the map, on the other side of Lake Phillippa. From that vantage point, I could look all the way through the valley there, in the draw from the lake down to the North Fork of The Snoqualmie River. I had started my hike from roughly where the DIV T type is on the map below. The extent of the fire had taken me some time to fully comprehend, as I’ve only been able to see the left hand part of the burn from the roads I’d approached form in the tree farm. Now I was getting a broader picture, but the clouds continued to veil the full extend of the fire’s wrath while I was in the snow.

I love being “lost” in the clouds high above. There are moment without and site beyond the trail and a few trees. I use my OnX ap to assist with directions to make sure I don’t take a wrong turn. There are a lot of logging roads up here, and any one of them could take me for miles across the mountains. I enjoyed walking the 4 miles round trip along this elevation, and had a few moments of blissful dream like surroundings in the swirling clouds. In one of the saddles, wind carried white gossamer over the treetops, arching back down the other side of rocky impediment and down towards the valley below. I could occasionally spot sun in the patches of farms and clear cuts below. My sunglasses came on and off a lot on that hike, as the snow became blinding white when the sun broke through the clouds. I wanted to reach out and catch the mists by the tail for a moment. The elemental change continued, but no rain would fall. These clouds were banking up along The Cascade Mountains, and would slowly break up as the day wore on. I was glad to get a little cloud cover while hiking. It kept me comfortable in my climb, and a light breeze was welcome on the decent back to the truck.

If you listen carefully in this video, you’ll hear the varied thrushes calling from the forest. These birds are in their mating season, and sound off like magical whistles throughout the woods. It’s great to catch the timing of these delightful birds as their song echos across mountain tops. I find such sounds so relaxing. I found myself walking through the slick snow in meditation, each step carefully placed away from the steep edge of the trail. At one point I was weaving through a willow patch that was slowly overtaking the path. In a few more years, it might be good to come back and cut the branches back a bit. Trail maintenance is always needed in these transition zones along the edges to keep access open. But if it does grow back in, that might be best for the environment beyond. Though there are not a large number of people coming up here through the tree farm, wilderness sometimes needs a break from human intrusion, and I’m glad keep visits to this beautiful place minimal.

As I descend back to the lower hills, the snow melts away again, and young ground covers bloom out of the damp soil left behind. I was enjoying the time travel, back to early spring. In the valley far below, plants were fully leafed out and far past blossoming. Up here at elevation, many plants were just popping up from the ground. Catkins hung on leafless shrubs, and a few flowers were out with the sun. Melting snow dripped down the rocky cliffs trimmed in velvet green mosses. The gravel on the trail spoke of shallow seas, muddy marine clay, and volcanic basalt. The tectonic uplift that brought this ocean floor into the sky are still moving and churning the layers of crust which float atop the liquid mantel of our planet. I’m always looking for these legacy reminders of a mountain’s makeup. At a bend along the trail, I came across a huge blue boulder protruding from the slope, it rested on what looked like a gray clay layer in the rock. I’ll be scouting that again once the snow is fully melted. The chance to find a natural clay bed would be exciting indeed.

By the time I got back to the truck, a different bird call was echoing through the hills. Grouse are also enjoying the spring mating season. The males find a prominent place with good acoustics in the woods, and beat out their rhythm of love in a deep humming drone. When I first heard them on The East Coast, I though someone was trying to start a generator. That’s my best description of this noise in the woods each spring. We don’t hear it where I am in the valley, though there are rough grouse in the woods nearby. You need enough continually forested habitat to host these wild birds. I think their numbers continue to slowly decline, though our Fish and Wildlife Department seems to think it’s just less people hunting them– that seems to be their reasoning, rather than the continued loss of habitat and more people pushing further into the forests on e-bikes. I look at the east coast bird counts as a reference, because if it’s happening over there, it’s certainly happening here too. I’ve seen some birds, but not a lot on my adventures in these woodlands- especially during hunting season. Maybe they are getting the memo on when to get the heck out of here once the guns start going off in September.

I found one hit by a vehicle along the road on my way up this morning. I moved the hen off the road and into the woods to give her a little bit of peace. Trucks carrying the logs out don’t stop for anything if they can. help it- they’re on a strict schedule- time is money. One little bird or a whole load of fresh wood products to be sold? Just buy your upland game bird tag and shut up about it. There are plenty of grouse in those woods for you to harvest, be grateful you have access. The tree farm may not be public lands, but it’s connected to them, in a patchwork of degraded habitat that’s pushing out wildlife and welcoming treated sewage, herbicides, and moncrop plantations of Douglas Fir. I’ve been recreating in this vast commercial timber property for almost 15 years, and there is a noticeable decline in deer here too. Seems the animals don’t like all the chemicals being spread across the clear cuts. However, I don’t have scientific data to back it up, so take my opinion as just that. I guess one could also say, it’s my experience in these woods.

As soon as set foot in the wilderness, there was a noticeable uptick in species diversity. There is also no legacy of chemical controls in this soil, so the understory indicators like oval leaf blueberry return, along with a great adaptive pioneer plant, fire weed. Both provide edible food, and play important roles in pollination, as well as larders for wildlife. False Hellebore, a sensitive wetland plant, also makes an appearance along the old road. There were also fungal friends along the way, with some orange witches butter blooming on a rotting stick. All these lovely plants vanish once I’m back in plantation land, where chemical spraying along the roads to keep them clear makes all the native edge plants disappear. Keep an eye out for this in areas you might want to harvest plants. I even came across an old spray flyer by a recent clearcut further down the slope. These markers are good reminders of the industrial legacy we’re leaving in our neighboring forests. The chemicals get into our water systems, ending up in the rivers of our valley. It’s also going to start showing up in our drinking water eventually. The natural world is a closed circuit, with no understanding on where the spray lines are drawn on maps or from satellite imagery. But don’t worry, you can safely re-enter the spray areas within 48hrs. I hope the wildlife can read this and feel better too.

This journey was about reaching the snow line and exploring an old trail into The Apline Lakes Wilderness, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I got out of the bright sun and into magical cloud cover, saw a larger swath of fire burn scars, identified a lot of good native plants, and got some good movement in for me and my pup Val. She was joyful in the snow, and together we had a great morning adventure in The Central Cascades. Gratitude for this access to wilderness, and the continued observation of industrial harvesting in forest plantations to understand a small part of the consumerism I participate in daily. Thanks to all the wildlife that showed its self in track, song, and even the dead grouse on the side of the road. I was able to observe a healthy hen and better acquaint myself with her markings, size, and habitat. She reminded me of the impermanence of this life, and to appreciate each day as it comes. Thank you to this ecology, and it’s resistance to human control and devastation. Our careless handling has evolved towards conservation, and the wilderness should be safe for many generations to come. Or so we hope.