August 23, 2013
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Insights from behind the judges' table at the fifth annual Pick-a-Dish contest and fundraiser.
The Craig Daily Press welcomed a new reporter this week, one who has more than a little familiarity with the publication. Sasha Nelson began Monday as the newspaper’s education and health reporter, replacing Michael Neary, who left in mid-July, in the position.
May, the month I was born, has always been a month for me to celebrate, but this week Colorado added a reason for everyone to rejoice. Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper signed a bill establishing the third Saturday in May as a holiday to celebrate the myriad benefits that public lands bring to the state of Colorado. Colorado has 30 million acres of national and state public lands, including mountains, deserts, forests and grasslands.
Fifth and eighth-graders at Moffat County Middle School were treated to some “extracurricular” science activities last week on a service trip led by non-profit Conservation Colorado.
Wonderful things are happening in Craig these days. The snow is finally melting. Small green shoots are appearing in the soil. Migrating birds are returning and hibernating mammals are waking from winter sleeps. Our community is also stirring and coming together to re-imagine our future. As I think about the challenges and opportunities ahead for our community I also think about my garden. There are many similarities between growing a garden and growing a community.
This week my mailbox has been filled with seed catalogues. The brightly colored pages are a welcome reminder that this snowy, cold winter will end. And when it does, I plan to have a head start on vegetables and flowers for a new garden. It’s been a long time since I last tried to grow a vegetable garden. I love plants of all kinds, but not many survive me — the green grim reaper. As I pour over the catalogs to make a plan for my garden I am reminded that one ancient gardening practice is still illegal in Colorado: collecting rainwater in rain barrels for our gardens.
A hunting-themed holiday poem penned by Sasha Nelson, with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
My mom was eight months pregnant when my adventurous father launched his small raft from the South Beach boat launch just south of Caraig for a day trip to lay bridge. Two days later my very worried, very pregnant mom was reunited with my sunburned, dehydrated father who brought his raft in behind schedule. So began a legacy of family adventures on the Yampa River.
It turns out that we live in a region filled with riding options and we are living in a time when we can shape what that experience looks like far into the future. Both the Little Snake and White River Field Offices of the Bureau of Land Management are undergoing travel planning. Transportation and travel management planning determines the location and type of “linear transportation-based disturbance” allowed on BLM-managed lands.
Greater sage grouse do not currently need protection under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). This week’s announcement has me wanting to burst with joy. It’s as exciting as a Broncos’ touchdown.
Over the past six months, our community has been wrestling with some hard questions related to the economic uncertainty caused by threats to our mining industry. If we are brutally honest, as a community, we must acknowledge that we have been struggling to improve our economy ever since the economic downturn or great recession gripped our area.
It’s summer, the time of year I find myself seeking out the cool shade of higher elevations by visiting Routt and White River National Forests. When I approach a forest boundary, the wooden yellow and brown signs make me nostalgic for quaking aspens, mountain wildflowers, afternoon thunderstorms, campfire s'mores, brown and green uniforms topped by funny old fashioned hats and, of course, the Forest Service’s iconic animal mascots.
Around 150 million years ago a great flood washed through what is now the Lower Yampa and Green River Valleys. Dozens of Jurassic creatures were pulled into a vortex of water and mud — their lives were lost but their bones were preserved. Thousands of years, layer upon layer of bones were buried in over 26 layers of mud and rock. All traces of the prehistoric beasts were lost.
In 2000, I left the Yampa Valley and headed for the southern hemisphere to begin seven years of graduate school. Three flights and two days later, I arrived in Melbourne, Australia. When I stepped off the plane that first day in a foreign land I was met with the familiar sights of signs for American fast food and big-box stores. I was puzzled by the number of large barrels at the sides of buildings and cisterns on the skyline. These were unusual sights for me and likely would be for most Coloradans.
I did something crazy last weekend. I built a deck. Beyond the weirdness of completing a major outdoor living project in the middle of February, I was struck by the number of choices I had to make. Wood or composite? Two steps or three? Covered or uncovered? As I sit on my new deck mulling this week’s column, it occurs to me that my process for building a deck is a telling analogy for the energy choices we are faced with today.
The drive to survive is one we share with all living things. Why do some groups thrive when nearby groups of the same species, under similar conditions struggle? From monkeys and birds to wolves and ants, the natural world is full of examples that show how collaboration can boost survival.
November through January is called, in many countries, the “silly season.” When I see homemade fringed and bedazzled candy cane sweaters, reindeer horn bedecked vehicles and eggnog drinking parties, I have to admit that this is a season filled with silliness. The frivolity seems to appear in the strangest of places as our President pardons gobblers and our politicians rush to pass bills like last minute gift givers rush to complete shopping on Christmas Eve.
People have been subsisting on grouse for as long as people have roamed this land. One of the West’s most iconic species, the sage grouse is known for its stately courtship dance. Their numbers were once so prolific that explorers described flocks that would “darken the skies.”
Endangered animals, endangered fish, endangered plants and endangered rivers — one of these things is not like the others yet with the naming by American Rivers of the White and the Upper Colorado Rivers as endangered, all of these things now exist in Northwest Colorado.
My grandfather Cecil Nelson was a tall, cantankerous man who, after he retired from a career in rout sales, went back to work full-time at the area hardware stores. He loved to tease and torture his grandchildren with classical country music. You know, the type that has the scratchy sounds of vinyl, the twang of a banjo and the hum of a good harmony. Songs like the “Wichita Lineman.” With two new high-power, super-sized transmission lines proposed to carve out virgin ground across our county, I find I have linemen on my mind.
The other day, I passed the guy with the “Tree Huggers Suck” sticker on the windshield of his beat-up pickup. The first time I saw this truck was after a long contentious day when a professional conservationist feels like a lone voice in a wilderness study area and I was further discouraged. This time I just grinned as I know I’m not alone.
Through the peaks and canyons of far Northwest Colorado run two rivers, the Green and the Yampa, carving gashes as deep as 2,500 feet into the red sandstone. The untamed rivers with Class III to V rapids captured the interest of explorers like John Wesley Powell, who led the first recorded scientific expedition in 1869, and intrepid reporters from The Denver Post who wrote about their attempt to run the rivers in 1928. The photos and stories of these daring adventures enticed thrill-seekers to journey to what is now Dinosaur National Monument to ride the rivers solely for recreation. According to many, this was the beginning of the whitewater rafting industry in Colorado.