The Real Cost Of Bio-Fuels

This scene is occurring all over farm country as farmers gear up to cash in on the high corn and bean prices caused by the bio-fuels rush. The folks who complain about our dependence on fossil fuels never get around to showing us the areas around the world that use wood for the primary energy source in daily life. In the Third World subsistence cultures, the typical day is spent carrying water, gathering food, and gathering firewood for cooking. Forests around these communities are constantly being scavenged for wood, and no real timber is ever produced. Coal, oil, and natural gas have allowed America to let forests grow, but the eco-alarmists haven't been able to connect the dots and figure this out. The Third World is knocking on our door, and if we don't get smart about energy soon, we will all be squatting around cooking fires and living in mud huts.

Harps of Spring

Baby Cherrybark Oak Leaves

Eastern Redbud

Arbor Day

Mt. Vernon, Illinois celebrates Arbor Day every year by distributing tree seedlings to school kids, and larger trees to adult residents. Today, members of the Tree Board, the Mt. Vernon Garden Club, and city employees bagged seedlings early in the day, attached planting instructions, and delivered them to the schools. The selections this year are overcup oak, pecan, and pitch X loblolly pine hybrid.


Each generation takes the earth as trustees. We ought to bequeath to posterity as many forests and orchards as we have exhausted and consumed.- J. Sterling Morton

Out and About

Out My Back Door

Monday Again!

This Monday's mill photo is graciously provided by Engineering Johnson from his post about the Aldie Mill, located in Virginia.

Back to the old grind!

Poets' Corner

Lucille

Of course you've heard of the Nancy Lee, and how she sailed away

On her famous quest of the Arctic flea, to the wilds of Hudson's Bay?

For it was a foreign Prince's whim to collect this tiny cuss,

And a golden quid was no more to him than a copper to coves like us.

So we sailed away and our hearts were gay as we gazed on the gorgeous scene;

And we laughed with glee as we caught the flea of the wolf and the wolverine;

Yea, our hearts were light as the parasite of the ermine rat we slew,

And the great musk ox, and the silver fox, and the moose and the caribou.

And we laughed with zest as the insect pest of the marmot crowned our zeal,

And the wary mink and the wily "link", and the walrus and the seal.

And with eyes aglow on the scornful snow we danced a rigadoon,

Round the lonesome lair of the Arctic hare, by the light of the silver moon.

But the time was nigh to homeward hie, when, imagine our despair!

For the best of the lot we hadn't got -- the flea of the polar bear.

Oh, his face was long and his breath was strong, as the Skipper he says to me:

"I wants you to linger 'ere, my lad, by the shores of the Hartic Sea;

I wants you to 'unt the polar bear the perishin' winter through,

And if flea ye find of its breed and kind, there's a 'undred quid for you.

"But I shook my head: "No, Cap," I said; "it's yourself I'd like to please,

But I tells ye flat I wouldn't do that if ye went on yer bended knees."

Then the Captain spat in the seething brine, and he says: "Good luck to you,

If it can't be did for a 'undred quid, supposin' we call it two?"

So that was why they said good-by, and they sailed and left me there --

Alone, alone in the Arctic Zone to hunt for the polar bear.

Oh, the days were slow and packed with woe, till I thought they would never end;

And I used to sit when the fire was lit, with my pipe for my only friend.

And I tried to sing some rollicky thing, but my song broke off in a prayer,

And I'd drowse and dream by the driftwood gleam; I'd dream of a polar bear;

I'd dream of a cloudlike polar bear that blotted the stars on high,

With ravenous jaws and flenzing claws, and the flames of hell in his eye.

And I'd trap around on the frozen ground, as a proper hunter ought,

And beasts I'd find of every kind, but never the one I sought.

Never a track in the white ice-pack that humped and heaved and flawed,

Till I came to think: "Why, strike me pink! if the creature ain't a fraud."

And then one night in the waning light, as I hurried home to sup,

I hears a roar by the cabin door, and a great white hulk heaves up.

So my rifle flashed, and a bullet crashed; dead, dead as a stone fell he,

And I gave a cheer, for there in his ear -- Gosh ding me! -- a tiny flea.

At last, at last! Oh, I clutched it fast, and I gazed on it with pride;

And I thrust it into a biscuit-tin, and I shut it safe inside;

With a lid of glass for the light to pass, and space to leap and play;

Oh, it kept alive; yea, seemed to thrive, as I watched it night and day.

And I used to sit and sing to it, and I shielded it from harm,

And many a hearty feed it had on the heft of my hairy arm.

For you'll never know in that land of snow how lonesome a man can feel;

So I made a fuss of the little cuss, and I christened it "Lucille".

But the longest winter has its end, and the ice went out to sea,

And I saw one day a ship in the bay, and there was the Nancy Lee.

So a boat was lowered and I went aboard, and they opened wide their eyes --

Yes, they gave a cheer when the truth was clear, and they saw my precious prize.

And then it was all like a giddy dream; but to cut my story short,

We sailed away on the fifth of May to the foreign Prince's court;

To a palmy land and a palace grand, and the little Prince was there,

And a fat Princess in a satin dress with a crown of gold on her hair.

And they showed me into a shiny room, just him and her and me,

And the Prince he was pleased and friendly-like, and he calls for drinks for three.

And I shows them my battered biscuit-tin, and I makes my modest spiel,

And they laughed, they did, when I opened the lid, and out there popped Lucille.

Oh, the Prince was glad, I could soon see that, and the Princess she was too;

And Lucille waltzed round on the tablecloth as she often used to do.

And the Prince pulled out a purse of gold, and he put it in my hand;

And he says: "It was worth all that, I'm told, to stay in that nasty land."

And then he turned with a sudden cry, and he clutched at his royal beard;

And the Princess screamed, and well she might -- for Lucille had disappeared.

"She must be here," said his Noble Nibbs, so we hunted all around;

Oh, we searched that place, but never a trace of the little beast we found.

So I shook my head, and I glumly said: "Gol darn the saucy cuss!

It's mighty queer, but she isn't here; so . . . she must be on one of us.

You'll pardon me if I make so free, but -- there's just one thing to do:

If you'll kindly go for a half a mo' I'll search me garments through."

Then all alone on the shiny throne I stripped from head to heel;

In vain, in vain; it was very plain that I hadn't got Lucille.

So I garbed again, and I told the Prince, and he scratched his august head;

"I suppose if she hasn't selected you, it must be me," he said.

So he retired; but he soon came back, and his features showed distress:

"Oh, it isn't you and it isn't me." . . . Then we looked at the Princess.

So she retired; and we heard a scream, and she opened wide the door;

And her fingers twain were pinched to pain, but a radiant smile she wore:

"It's here," she cries, "our precious prize. Oh, I found it right away. . . ."

Then I ran to her with a shout of joy, but I choked with a wild dismay.

I clutched the back of the golden throne, and the room began to reel . . .

What she held to me was, ah yes! a flea, but . . . it wasn't my Lucille.

BALLADS OF A BOHEMIAN, BOOK I, By Robert Service

Not My Victrola

Rolf den Otter is one of our You Tube acquaintances we listen to regularly. He has much better equipment, and considerably more skill in recording old records than the staff in the True Blue recording studio. This selection is the final movement of the Brahms Violin Concerto performed by Berl Senofsky, in 1956. Be sure to check out Rolf's You Tube channel: otterhouse.

Weekend Steam: The Man Behind the Lens

Leo R. Clark of Washington, Illinois attended Midwest Old Settlers and Threshers reunions from the beginning in 1950. He was the official photographer for Engineers and Engines Magazine, the National Theshermen of America, and for his employer, the Toledo, Peoria, and Western Rairoad. Leo was an engineer for 48 years on that railroad, and he never had an engine in a wreck. He retired in 1969.

I have often wondered about the photographers who take the pictures we see every day, and here is a rare look. Leo took the above photo at Mt. Pleasant, Iowa in 1968 or 1969, and I was lucky enough to get into this shot. The photo below, from the November-December 1969 issue of Engineers and Engines, is a shot of Leo on his first trip as an engineer on the T P & W in August 1921. Leo took good notes, and we know that the picture was taken with a 2A Brownie box camera.


For a very good article about Leo, go here: * for a selection from the Iron Men Album archives.

Crankin' It Up

We have tulips blooming right outside our door, so this weekend's selection is a natural. This record is an Orthophonic recording, which it means that it is recorded with a microphone instead of a megaphone. The Orthophonic Victrolas have a much longer internal horn than earlier machines, and they have a much better sound than earlier Victrolas. They also use an electric motor instead of a wind-up. If you have a chance to buy one of these rarities, you should jump on it.



Tip-Toe Thru the Tulips was one of the hits from the Movie Gold Diggers of Broadway, and I found a clip from the movie with Nick Lucas performing over on Virtual Victrola. Gold Diggers was the second talkie, and was filmed in Technicolor. Sadly, it is one of the lost movies. I hope you enjoy the record and the clip from the movie.

Prescribed Burning Photos

These competent folks are all members of the Southern Illinois Prescribed Burn Association, an organization of landowners who have banded together to help each other with management burns on prairie and forest.

We use ATVs to carry water, tools and people. Before we had ATVs, firefighters carried water in five gallon backpack pumps. We use mowed lines, water, and flappers to hold the line on praire burns. The method with backpack pumps and flappers is to spray a patch with water, then cover it with a flapper to snuff it and cool it. The ATV makes this process go much faster and easier. We spray in front to the tires, and run over the fire to snuff it. You can hit a section of fire line repeatedly without standing in the smoke and heat, which means you stay fresh all day and do not have a monoxide headache the next morning.

We string fire with drip torches, which use a mix of diesel fuel and gasoline. The person doing this job has to stay in touch with the rest of the crew visually and with his radio. We start out with a backing fire on the downwind side of the burn area, and during this phase, the torch person has to watch the work going on behind him, being careful not to outrun the people controlling the fireline.

These workers are on their feet all day, but doesn't this look like fun? I understand that in Texas they do this from the back of a horse.

This is a backing fire working its way against the wind.

As the black area grows wider, the line becomes safer.

There can be lots of heat and smoke on the downwind side. The ATVs sure are an improvement over hiking the line in the smoke with water on your back.

Safe, black line.

We burned five fields in one day with a crew of nine, using four ATVs.

The flanking fires are lit after the downwind side is safe. The wind is running nearly parallel to the flanks; the fire burns hotter, and moves faster.

The work goes at a much faster pace on the flanks.

Woody vegetation being cooked off.

After the outer flanks are burned in, you can light parallel flanking fires. These keep the fire cooler, and they move slower than a wide head fire, killing large woody stems to the ground more effectively.

In this photo you can see a flank fire on the left, and a head fire beginning its run. Note the thicker smoke coming off the head fire.

A head fire runs with the wind. You do not want to be in front of this.

Head fires cover ground in a hurry.

Autumn olives cooking. These are non-native/invasive plants that will take over grass land.

The desired effect. Prairie and abandoned pasture land that is not burned becomes impenetrable in a few years when autumn olive becomes established. Fire is the cheapest method to keep it under control. We also use fire in timber to promote regeneration of the desirable oaks and hickories.

Busy Day

I had a long day today, and just now checked in on Blogger. I will put up more pictures of today's activities tomorrow evening, and tell a little about the good times had by all involved.