Recently I returned to my second home state, Alaska. When I lived in Alaska, I called myself a misplaced Montanan; and now that I am back in Montana, I sometime refer to myself as an away Alaskan. In truth I belong to both states. I call myself a Montanalaskan. They hold tightly to my heart and my spirit. I carry them both deep in my bones.

As a biometrician working for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, I was able to experience Alaska as few do.  My work took me on countless field trips to nearly every mountain range, every river drainage, every small village, and the few bigger cities in the state. I spend hundreds of hours in small airplanes, helicopters, river boats, ocean going vessels, on snow machines and on foot hiking throughout the state. I know Alaska’s waters, mountains, tundras, and forests. My experiences span Alaska’s two primary seasons: winter and the Fourth of July. I have done much the same in Montana, although here my preferred mode of transportation is clearly that of riding one of my steadfast and back country savvy steeds.

The first stop on my Alaska trip was Sitka. During a quiet walk through the coastal trail of the Sitka National Historical Park with my longtime friend, Susan, I was once again spell bound by the beauty and the significance of the Tlingit and Haida totem poles standing silently among the towering spruce trees. Totems are sacred, religious symbols created by different clans, families, or groups honoring their relationship to their worlds – their worlds filled with the animals that sustained them physically, emotionally, and spiritually. These are beautifully carved works of arts clearly and loudly proclaims the creator’s reverence for and attachment to the animals depicted. These monuments sing to me. I feel the power of the connections between the animals and the totems’ carvers. The depth of their gratitude to, and reverence for, the animals portrayed is obvious to all.

The totem images haunt my imagination. I envy America’s first nations’ closeness with nature, their intimacy with the seasons, the plants, the animals, their knowledge of the stars and the waters and the wind, their oneness with their surroundings. Modern cultures seem intent on isolating us from nature’s embrace, sheltering us from the natures’ moods and disassociating us from all that the natural world entails – both the challenges and the joys. This is not meant to be. Human nature is really one with nature. Our separation is felt deeply, whether we recognize it for such or not. Our souls grieve its loss, with that grief commonly being expressed in unhealthy ways.

Those of us lucky enough to reside in places like Montana, where we continue to live close to the land with animals surrounding us, still have some tenuous threads to those ancient feelings, those ancient ways of knowing. Our daily lives reverberate with nature’s demands and glories. I give thanks for this way of live.

My mind plays with the prospect of a Dunrovin totem. To which animals would we pay homage? Clearly the ospreys would have to be included as their presence practically defines a Dunrovin summer season. Horses would most certainly be prominently featured as they are nearly our reason being who and what we are. Dogs have been our livelong companions and guides. Bears have been the focus of intense study by my husband and the source of endless hours of fascination and delight. Salmon and trout have lured us to river after river in both Montana and Alaska to seek their schools and grace our tables with sustenance. Yes, I think that Dunrovin would be the clan of the horse, dog, bear, trout/salmon, and osprey.

What animals would appear on YOUR totem? Why are those animals important to you?

 

Each year Montana Public Radio hosts a fund raising event to help finance their programs. They cajole their listeners into donating money to support their favorite radio shows and they offer what they call premiums for making donations at certain levels. These premiums are gifts that local listeners contribute and are, more often than not, eclectic, unique, homemade items that end up being loads for fun for all involved – the giver, the receiver, and fellow listeners. Odd sounding, off the wall, engaging premiums have become a signature of Montana Public Radio’s annual fundraising events and have served to make thousands of connections throughout the community.

Dunrovin Ranch has been both a giver and a receiver of these premiums. In fact, one of our loveliest assets came to us via a Montana Public Radio premium. When we first moved to Dunrovin, we had almost no experience with orchards and flowering trees. Upon making our first donation to Montana Public Radio, Sterling decided that he would select a premium that consisted of a scion from a listener’s apple tree that purportedly produced the most delicious apples imaginable to be grafted onto our own apple tree. Well, this sounded like a hoot. We had never imaged grafting one tree to another, and we we anxious to learn.

On the appointed day, a delightful gentleman arrived at Dunrovin with several scions in hand and set about to graft them to our tree while we watched and asked all sort of simple minded questions revealing our total ignorance of managing an orchard. He was most patient and most helpful. Not only did he complete his appointed task, but he asked us if we had cultivated any orchard mason bees. Well, of course not. We had never even heard of mason orchard bees, and we certainly had no idea of how to culture them. After listening to him extol their many virtues which included that they are native to Montana, very shy, do not live in hives, and do not sting, we were eager to lure them to our newly planted orchard. This meant simply installing a “bee box” with individual holes drilled, and supplying a source of moist clay for them to use to plug their individual nests.

This man was so generous and so committed to getting us get going, that he returned the next week with a couple of bee boxes that he had built. They were immediately installed on the side of our log home, and for two years, I faithfully maintained a pot with moist clay right under them to give the bees access to the mud essential for their homes. Sure enough, within several years, we had hordes of mason bees anxious to pollinate our ever growing number of both true fruit bearing and ornamental fruit trees. Happily, our orchard routinely produces an abundance of cherries, apples, pears, and plums each year. In addition, the scion that was grafted more than lived up to it billing. We routinely fight over who gets the apples from that part of the tree!

Regrettably, I do not remember the name of this kind and very knowledgeable man who grafted the scion to our apple tree and who helped us so many years ago to get mason orchard bees established at Dunrovin. But I do remember his wonderful personality. And I remember his great Montana story which is not atypical of others who live here. When we asked him what he did, he immediately responded by saying, ” Well, I am a poet. That is what I am, but I can’t make a living as a poet. So, I make my living as a carpenter and I moved here to live amid the Montana mountains that inspire my poetry. Fruit trees are my passion.” Thank you, Montana Public Radio, for bringing this most remarkable man to Dunrovin.

These many years later, our population of mason bees flourishes and bewitches all of our spring guests. As the flowering crab apple trees that surround our guest lodging bloom, the trees come alive with the sound of the thousands of mason bees busily visiting each and every bloom. Kids of all ages – from two to ninety – stand entranced beneath the trees and listen. They just listen to the overwhelming buzz knowing full well that they are in no danger from these friendly little insects. It’s pure magic! You can listen for yourself!