Trail Cam - Final Photos

I've enjoyed trekking about the nearby woods these past months putting up our trail cams to suss out the best places to hunt deer.  I can see the appeal of photo only hunting,  you do get that sense of wonder every time you see something unexpected.

It has been educational as well.  You get to see deer families growing up.  By November the spotted fawns of last spring are only a bit smaller than their mothers.  We have by the way been requested to not fire on the cute little deer family that lives just across the road.

Late in the season the "deermographics" change.  Does are sighted less often.  Bucks appear.  They've been off doing guy stuff somewhere all summer and fall.  Now it's mating season.  They are out looking for action.  What the does think of this is unclear.

Well its almost Opening Day and time for decisions on where to put our stands.  So some final pictures.  Presumably next week's entries in the "Hunter Gatherer" series will be me snapping a few from the stand while waiting for something to happen.  Perhaps while considering recipes for a Tofu Thanksgiving.

Closing time at the Mating Season Disco.  "Hey, baby, I'm a feelin' pretty....antlery".

One of my sons is a very accomplished marksman.  I send him pictures like this just to confuse him.

A bewildered elderly man searching for a trail cam he had placed in a particularly sneaky location..

Another "Doughboy" with Tree, Manitowoc Wisconsin

Less than 24 hours after finding an amazing new form of "Tree Shaped Tombstone" I found another one.  This "Doughboy" is in the Evergreen Cemetery of Manitowoc.  The condition is not quite as good, but it is still magnificent.

This is the grave of Private Otto Luecke.

As you can see, the right ear and the brim of his had have had some damage.  There is also a bit more overall weathering.  This makes it hard to read the inscription on the "stump" but it indicates he died in Manchester England.  I assumed he was a victim of the "Spanish Flu".  And I was right.

It is a sobering reminder that the Four Horsemen always ride in tandem.  The 1918 influenza pandemic killed many more than the shell fire and machine gun bullets of The Great War.

With the discovery of two essentially identical monuments it is clear that we are not dealing with a one off done by some talented and dedicated craftsman.  Somebody was creating and marketing these on a larger scale.  It is difficult to track them down with a standard Google image search, you just get buried under tons of more commonplace World War monuments.  But I have found at least two other specimens from other states.  I'd love to learn out more if anyone knows anything....

The fact that this was a commodity in no way detracts from their beauty.  You could not make something like this without considerable skill and passion for your work.  I'm sure the families appreciated it.

The Doughboy and the Tree

Bit of a longer post today.  The subject warrants it.

If I have limited time and am passing through a city I usually try to figure out where the "society" cemetery was.  That's where you find the most ornate tombstones.  Which is not to say always the most interesting ones.  But on this occasion I was on the edge of Manitowoc Wisconsin and noticed that Calvary Cemetery, a smaller place on the outskirts, was nearby.  I drove up and saw.....this.

A life sized World War I doughboy standing at parade rest next to an ornamental tree stump.  I'd never seen one before, never even heard of one.  It's amazing.  Check out the details!

The hand holding the rifle has fingernails.

The boots have distinct lacings.  The legs have that odd cloth wrap that was intended to keep the muck of the trenches somewhat at bay.  The toes of the boots have that odd "Ronald McDonald" look that I'm sure reflected reality.

Not just a canteen, but one with a canvas cover.

Even the rifle is shown in enough detail that it can be identified by type.  It is a so called "American Enfield", a British design rechambered for American ammunition.  It was in fact the most common rifle issued to American troops.  The tell tale clue is the distinctive front sights.

(since my experience digging at Hill 80 I've developed an interest in the history of Great War firearms.  A fabulous - and non political - source for this is C&Rsenal ).

A much weathered inscription on the top of the "stump" only gives the first name, Edward.  But it is in the plot of the Gerl family.  There is also an inscription on the front which gives the details of his death:

"Lost his life in the English Channel.  May 21, 1918."

The full story is HERE.  The short version is that he was a Manitowoc lad who had been working as a teacher before enlisting.  He was in an early draft sent overseas and was one of 53 American soldiers who died when the transport Moldavia was torpedoed in the English Channel by the German submarine UB-57.

There are many remarkable things about this monument.  The details of his death.  The absence of a last name.  But mostly the incredible detail.  My first thought was that this was a privately commissioned work, and I marveled that there was no artist's signature to be found.  I stared at the face, and it stared right back.  Was it based on the actual face of Edward Gerl?

Hard to tell, isn't it?  I was still pondering the question when I discovered the answer.  More on this next time.

The hunt for history as recorded in tombstones may seem a bit morbid, but it provides plenty of occasion for reflection on Life and Death.  And less commonly for wonderful surprises such as the Doughboy and the Tree monument I found in Calvary Cemetery, on the outskirts of Manitowoc....

Tree Shaped Tombstones - A Separation in Coloma Wisconsin

When you look at a map of Wisconsin there are lots of towns and cities along obvious transportation routes.  The shores of Lakes Michigan and Superior.  Along the Mississippi and Wisconsin rivers.  Then there are places sitting all by themselves in the middle of the state.  Presumably when thinly settled land got divided up into counties they just figured they needed a place for the courthouse and some little cross roads/county store got promoted.   I think that's the case with Coloma Wisconsin, although I shall state for the record that it is a nice little town.

In the cemetery I found one of those curiosities that have been bothering me.  A Tree Shaped tombstone with room for husband and wife....but with one absent.  Here it is as photographed late in the day as the first flakes of an oncoming blizzard began to swirl.

This style of "book" turns up once in a while.  It looks as if it would be easy to damage with lawn care, and it has not weathered as nicely as one would like.  The inscription says:

NEMA WIFE OF W.A. ROBLIER Died Mar 8 1894 AGED 24 years 8 months.

So where is her husband?

William Roblier is to be found many rows back, as the cemetery filled up.

He lived from 1869 to 1940.  So at the time of his death Nema had been gone for 46 years.  His second wife, Mona, is buried next to him.  She lived all the way to 1968....more than seven decades past the first Mrs. Roblier.

It's the sort of scenario that must have played out often in an era where people, especially women and children, often died young.  And where remarriage was socially expected.

I guess it made sense for W.A. to be buried where he is.  I can't imagine the second wife being on board with him being laid to rest next to a woman gone nearly half a century.  And as for Nema, well she was not entirely alone.

These little half round markers at the foot of adult graves are usually the resting places of children who died very young.  For some reason there are two here.  This one is blank.  Here's the other one.

 Born Jan (?) 1891 Died

The inscription is very worn, I could not for instance see the name Gladys that records indicate is on top.  The poor little thing died in 1891 at the age of one month.

A sad story but history contains many such.  Also a peek into the sociology of burial practices in a time when people tended to marry young and to live for highly variable spans. 

The light of her young life went down,
As sinks behind the hill
The glory of a setting star,	15
Clear, suddenly, and still.

It's a verse from a long, mournful poem by John Greenleaf Whittier.  

End of an Era. Also the Beginning of one.

Last robotics related post was "Moving Day" and it left some loose ends.  There was a lot of wood to deal with.  Mostly this was a big wobbly storage shelf that some kids slapped together in the early days of the team.  Also some very much better built "field elements" wooden practice analogs of things on the playing fields of more recent games.  They all had to go.

There was a real memory lane aspect to this.  Once again in covid times I was working by myself.  I continued to find fun little artifacts from the early, crazy days.  And I got to deploy a tool that had not been seen for several years now.  Behold, the mighty Hammer of Persuasion.

And yes, obviously I do feel a bit like Thor wielding this.  Our first year robot was rather crudely designed and built and often needed taps with this to get shafts through bearings and so forth.  In recent years everything has been computer designed and precision fabricated, so The Hammer has not been needed.  But it sure came in handy knocking apart wooden structures.

And then for my last official duty I got out another tool, one I have used often in recent seasons.  The team is building things way beyond my skill level so I mostly order and sort supplies....and sweep up.

As of mid day 10/26/2020 the robotics stuff had been, as was necessary, reduced in bulk by 50% or more, packed into somewhat findable containers and moved to a new temporary home.  We hope to transition into the school's STEM center in the near future.

And so of course by 5pm came the word that an increase in covid in the community meant that school was going virtual until at least the end of November.

Sigh.  Well, we are at least ready and in good order when - and may it be soon - the world starts making sense again.

Election Day - The Morning After

Writing about the near future is hard.  I'm at the keyboard on 25 October.  I of course have no foreknowledge of who will win the Presidential election.  Indeed, auto-posting at 12:30 am perhaps nobody yet knows.  But here's a rare promise that in an election season will be kept, I won't go back and edit.  

My default setting is optimism.  I have faith in the people and institutions of our country.  The leaders of various political factions....ah, not so much.  We'll be OK, but a look ahead suggests there will be a rough patch.

The best case scenario is that somebody wins with enough margin that this mess does not swirl into, and taint, the judicial system.  But perhaps if we are really going for ideal, not by so big a margin that it is considered a Mandate to just go do any damned thing.  We have two badly flawed men running.  One of them will be President.  He's not going to have an easy nor a pleasant time of it.  

I've been around for what my UK friends call "Donkey Years".  My memories of politics stretch back so far they lightly touch upon the Kennedy era.  I can't recall any election that has featured such a bleak tone, although Reagan versus Carter came close.  This "Dark Winter" that is foretold....not something I am excited about after a half a year of semi-lockdown and moderate disruption of my life.  (With of course due sympathy and respect to those who have suffered more, and there are many such).

The undertone of course is caused by Covid-19.  Absent that we'd presumably be looking at an ongoing strong economy, at least nominal peace in assorted foreign trouble spots and a much needed re-assessment on the part of both political parties.  Instead we stay huddled in our bunkers, wearing DIY biohazard masks, wondering if a slightly scratchy throat is something ominous not only for ourselves but for an extended group of people we care about.  It's horrid.  But one advantage to being a grizzled veteran is perspective.  The world is always about to End.

1957 - I'm born.  The "Asian Flu" kills 1-2 million world wide.*   By comparison Covid-19 has killed roughly 1.15 million world wide.  And counting.  But also in a population that is almost three times larger and considerably older than 1957. 

1962 - My parents having packed me off to kindergarten at age 4, I'm now in First Grade at Lowell Elementary school.  I remember civil defense drills in the school basement concurrent with the Cuban missile crisis where we came fairly close to nuclear Armageddon. 

1963 - I remember - oddly it was in the same school basement - lining up for one of the first doses of oral polio vaccine.  It was pink and tasted good.  It came in a little white paper cup.  For a parent/grandparent polio is scarier than Covid.  It hit young children and potentially crippled them for life.  Covid usually only makes them mildly ill.  It's worse for us grown ups of course, but given a choice we'd all prefer that we be the ones at risk.

1968 - I'm 11 years old.  There was enough weird stuff going on in a mixed up world, and plenty in a mixed up family, that I have no memory of the "Hong Kong Flu" that killed 1-4 million world wide.

1976 - I'm in college.  There was great alarm regards a revival of the 1918 "Spanish Influenza".  A crash program to find a vaccine was undertaken and must be considered a success.  But for reasons inscrutable the "Swine Flu" never took off.  And Gerald Ford, perhaps our last truly admirable President, was pilloried for getting us worked up over nothing.  And for the possible side effects of the vaccine.  I got the vaccine in the Student Commons.  I did fine.

1981 - First reports of AIDS.  I was in Med school but by that point mostly on clinical rotations.  So it was not until Residency a year or two later when anything like a clear picture started to emerge from the bewildering wave of odd infections and cancers that had been puzzling my instructors.  Death toll world wide: 25 million and counting.

And so it goes.  Our leaders and many of those they would presume to lead are not as resolute as we were a generation or two back.... and never you mind comparing them with further back still.  My great grandparents had a whole batch of kids.  Only two survived a diptheria epidemic in the late 1800s.  They sent those two off to live with relatives while the others died one after another at home. That's how things were.

And this morning, hopefully with some clarity, we have put the 2020 election campaign with its diseased undertones behind us.  We have a new reality.  And that's how things are.**

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* I'm calling things by their historic names.  I'm more concerned about the editing of history than I am about offending random geographic areas.

** I'll say in advance that I accept the results of the election.  You should too, whatever the outcome.  If you are among those unhappy with how things turned out, get back to work electing better people next time around.  But could you, please, just take a break for a couple of months?  I don't want the 2024 election campaign to begin until - Lord help us all - sometime in 2021.

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With much searching about I found a picture of Lowell Elementary school in 1963.  It nudged other memories that I'll bore you with some day...

Forgotten Brewery Caves - Very Rural Wisconsin

No location on this one.  It's on private property.  

There were many small breweries in early Wisconsin.  Some farmer brewing up a few barrels of beer and tucking them into a little cave or cellar.  The market for these enterprises was also small,  likely just the taverns and farmsteads for ten miles or so around.  They were in no position to compete with the mega breweries when the combination of mechanical refrigeration, national marketing and expanded rail networks came along in the 1880s.  The notion that Prohibition killed off the small breweries is nonsense.  From a peak in the early 1870's, half of them were gone a decade later.  Very few were still around to be finished off by the Volstead Act.

This little venture got going around 1867.  The picture of who owned and/or ran it is obscure, a gentleman named Kobes seems to have been first, then a man named Adam Warm.  When he died circa 1874 his wife ran it a few more years.  With a production of 30 to 50 barrels a year this was one of the smallest breweries in the state.  It was out of business by 1880.

I usually consult period maps to narrow down a location, but in this case despite a good general sense of where it should be I saw nothing useful on the maps.  Google Earth can sometimes also help, but in this case not even the modern day Eye of Sauron could see anything.

So it took an in person trip.  Several passes up and down the road were fruitless.  I'm no slouch at this kind of hunt, and can usually zero in on the combination of road access, hillside, and water source that would make a "good site" for a little brewery.  But this time nothing fit.  No old buildings.  No creek.  Nothing.

Finally, as the hour was getting  late, the low angle of the sun showed me something I had missed....

Tucked in among scrub and weeds there was a cute little brewery cave.

Note the metal door frame.  I doubt this is original, the cave was probably used later for storage.

I did not enter, a couple of quick photos from the side of the road are enough.  I was able to see that there is a small opening in the back that an earlier source identifies as an ice slide.  This won't help the stability of the structure.  That and the scant amount of soil on top makes it a marvel that this one has survived for over 150 years.  Longer in fact than the brewery building which presumably stood where a particularly dense patch of weeds now grows nearby.