The “Eco” of My Ecofeminism
by: Nancy Vedder-Shults on July 1st, 2009 | 10 Comments »
I want to introduce myself to you in a bioregional way, because as a Wiccan, the land that I live on and relate to and love constitutes a large part of my life. This is the “eco” part of my ecofeminism. Tomorrow or the next day, I’ll introduce the feminist part.
Last Monday was a “mink day.” When my husband Mark went out in the morning, he told me he’d seen a weasel of some sort in the garden. So as I ate breakfast, I checked our field guide to North American mammals and kept my eyes peeled to catch a glimpse of it.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, I saw a large weasel-like animal crawling through the foliage at the edge of the lake. It was carrying something in its mouth, and at first I thought it might have caught “my chipmunk,” the one that eats out of my hand. But soon thereafter, the mink – for that’s what it was – returned with another small, furry animal in its mouth, and I realized it must be moving its young to a new den. In all, I saw Mama Mink move at least three of her offspring across our yard and into a nearby park.
What a thrill! I’d never seen a wild mink before, although I knew that in the past they had lived on the shores of Lake Mendota. A neighbor I’ll call Dick, whose family owned the original homestead on this land, told us about them when we first moved to the lake 6 ½ years ago. Part of Dick’s mink story was reported in the Wisconsin State Journal in the 1930s. At that time, his father wooed his mother by giving her a stole from two minks he’d trapped on his own land. In the 1950s Dick followed suit by catching a mink in our neighborhood and then buying a second pelt to have a wrap made for his prospective wife. When I called her to let her know of my mink sighting, she admitted that she’d felt ambivalent about Dick’s earlier gift and promised that he wouldn’t set any traps for the mink I just saw.
It’s a different time. Since the 1950s few of us would even think of trapping a fur-bearing animal. It’s probably not even legal within Madison city limits. We’re all just relieved and happy that there’s still a mink in our environs. And as an ecofeminist practitioner of Wicca, I’m ecstatic to be able to experience such wildness in my front yard. I’m incredibly lucky to live on the lake here in Madison. In the spring and fall I hear loons calling to each other, and see lots of other migratory waterfowl, including tundra swans as the lake begins to freeze over. In the summer, the orioles and hummingbirds visit our feeders, and we’ve spotted a fox that lives in the neighborhood, as well as several coyotes. And every year we wonder if we’ll finally see one of our resident bald eagles catch a coot. I experience the turning of the year as a celebration of the fullness of life, just by looking out my front window.
My front yard lies in Madison, Wisconsin along the banks of Lake Mendota, the largest body of water in the Yahara watershed. In times past this area was a burr oak savannah with some small prairies and marshland surrounding the lake. Much of the wetlands have been developed, and as a result, we have two big problems with our lakes.
First of all, whenever it rains the lake level increases twice as much as the rainfall, i.e. if we get an inch of rain, the lake rises two inches. This results from the run-off from impervious surfaces surrounding the lake (buildings, driveways, parking lots, roads, etc.).
Secondly, the lake is eutrophying fast, i.e. it’s turning into a swamp. Dane County, where Madison is located, has some of the most fertile agricultural land in the state of Wisconsin. And farmers spread manure to keep it that way. Unfortunately, much of that fertilizer (plus sewage from the early years of Madison’s history) has ended up in the lakes over the past 100 years, and we see it fertilizing bluegreen algae (cyanobacteria) at this time of year.
Madison and Dane County have taken steps to address both of these problems. They’ve passed regulations so that no lawn fertilizers can contain phosphates, meaning that at least we urbanites won’t be adding to the algae problem. And work is underway to create a manure digester to literally keep the shit out of the lakes. The Madison Water Utility also has a regulation that taxes every property based on its impervious square footage in order to encourage more environmentally-friendly building practices. But of course, we can do much more.



Wild minks in Madison city limits. I didn’t know. How exciting!
Like you, I watch and listen to the amazing fauna, residential and migratory. A backyard birder, my spirit is buoyed by these living connections to the rhythms of the seasons.
I spotted my first Monarch this week, and also my first monarch caterpillar. My neighbors probably don’t understand the milkweed plants interspersed among roses, coneflowers, lilies, and bee balm, but I know that I’m providing important habitat, and each year I find more and more beauty in the gangly milkweed.
Nancy, I didn’t know about the manure digester. Thanks for sharing. How clever and forward-thinking of Madison. Our lakes define us!
Thanks for your Mink and environmental consideration…. any folks you know who might interested in the following?
Nature’s Path to Earth and Us in Peaceful Balance
June, 17, 2009: This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of Educating, Counseling and Healing With Nature (ECHN) a UNESCO approved, online, sensory art and science developed by Michael J. Cohen, Ph.D. at the Institute of Global Education.
Because ECHN applies the empirical science of Natural Attraction Ecology (NAE), it provides us with a lasting remedy for personal, social and environmental deterioration. It is learned through accredited courses, degree programs and jobs from Project NatureConnect in conjunction with cooperating universities.
By giving us the means to create moments that let Earth teach, ECHN genuinely connects contemporary thinking with the the grace of nature’s self-correcting and restorative ways. This helps us nurture and energize nature’s healing powers within us. It enables of our natural senses to recycle the pollutants in our mind that bond us to our destructive relationships and prevent change.
Engaging in ECHN is like forever taking a powerful and spiritually renewing walk in the park. It transforms our disorders into the rewards of clear thinking, well-being and peaceful balance. It may be added to any discipline or profession.
Special anniversary grants are available to new faculty or training applicants in the ECHN of Natural Attraction Ecology (NAE).
Further information: contact Michael J. Cohen, Telephone 360-378-6313 or email: nature@interisland.net.
Website: http://www.ecopsych.com Personal page: http://www.ecopsych.com/mjcohen.html
Overview Article
Wow — I’ve lived in WI for most of my life and never knew we had wild minks among us! Thanks for this post — I’ll look forward to checking back in at Tikkun to see your latest postings.
“keep the shit out of the lakes”
I would love to see that on a yard sign! You know that more would get done if that was the slogan.
This past spring, I saw my first and only flying squirrel while visiting friends who lives near the Arboretum. They had no idea what it was so I took a look at it and gave them the news. They asked how I knew it was a flying squirrel. I responded, “Didn’t you ever watch Rocky and Bullwinkle?”
I am also an avid backyard birder. A couple of years ago, a pair of cardinals set up housekeeping in a honeysuckle bush near our side deck. I could see the nest hidden amidst the leaves when I used my binoculars. I watched them everyday, building the nest, mama on the nest, papa flitting about the nest… When their 4 eggs hatched, I felt like a midwife. Soon the corvids and hawks figured out where the nest was, too. I watched in dismay as one, then two, then three of the hatchlings were taken. Yes, it was the circle of life, but doggone it, I wanted that last baby cardinal to make it. So I set up a bed near the porch, and every morning around 4:30 a.m. when the crows, jays, and hawks descended I shooed them away. I did this for at least a week. One morning I saw a little brown bird sitting on the uppermost branches of the honeysuckle bush. Mama and Papa cardinal were about 5 ft. away chirping loudly. This little brown bird was baby cardinal #4, ready to test his wings. He fluttered for awhile, and then he flew off into the woods. I felt relief, joy, and sadness that he had made it that far–but also glad that I could go back to bed again!
I love the cardinal story, and the minks. Before moving cross country to take this job at Tikkun my wife Debi and I lived on the edge of the Catskills, near Kingston, NY. Our home was a former farm reduced to four acres, on a country road with a bunch of houses on it and a few miles of woods behind them (if anyone wants to buy it, our home’s up for sale still!). We had deer all the time, occasional bears and I once saw a coyote. But the mink story made me think of the rarest creature in those woods. On my morning run one day, a curious animal ran across the road about twenty paces in front of me. It was the size of cat but didn’t move like one. It had chocolate brown fur. I stopped where it had crossed the road, peering into the woods to see it disappear. To my astonishment it turned, perched on one of the old stone walls that run all through those northeastern woods and faced me fiercely, only about ten feet away. Its face was triangular-shaped, weaselish but it was several times the size of any weasel I had seen. Then I realized somehow that there was another one on the other side of the road. I had run between a pair, and the first was not about to leave its mate. We stayed like that for several moments and then I ran on and let them recover.
I found out that they were fishers, an animal I had never heard of, that is most famous, apparently, for its ability to kill and eat porcupines. The porcupine puts its face against a tree when attacked by a fisher, the fisher runs up the tree and comes down right into the porcupine’s face and eats its way in. No wonder it faced off against a human.
Fishers were hunted almost to extinction in those woods for their fur. They need space and connecting corridors of wildlife refuges in order to make a comeback. Debi was working for the Mohonk Preserve nearby which is one of the places trying to make that kind of refuge, but it was astonishing to me, given the stories of forest loss in our world, to see how much of the northeast U.S. is returning to forest. There is a photo of the wide Rondout Valley, where we lived, from the top of Mohonk Mountain, with hardly a tree in evidence, and now that same view appears like barely interrupted forest. Better for fishers.
Nancy, you make me homesick for Madison (not that that’s hard). I am enjoying getting to know the natural inhabitants of the desert. Though amazing and often beautiful, they do not generally inspire warm fuzzy feelings. We went on a night time scorpion hunt walk at a nearby state park last Saturday. Under black light flashlights the scorpions glow like the stars you can stick on your bedroom ceiling. Under the light of a regular flashlight, they disappear completely, blending into the desert floor. The ranger warned us that we might not want to use the black light flashlights in our houses as we might not be too happy to know about the scorpions who live among us! If they’d keep down the cricket population who escape the summer heat by coming in to the house through the drains in musical droves, I’d be okay with them as long as they keep their invisible distance.
Wonderful story! I look forward to more of your posts, and to hear you articulate additional solutions.
Nancy,
Your essay is wonderful. We live in Middleton, WI and enjoy our frequent walks around the Pheasant Branch Conservancy. It is always special to hear/see birds as well as occasionally spot other wildlife along the trail(s). It is so important that we maintain current natural areas and create new preserves as the “natural” habitat is shrinking. I guess I see mankind as kind of an “invasive species” that needs to be contained… Perhaps there is a balance that can be obtained.
Thank you all for your responses. The stories you’ve told touch me deeply, because they demonstrate how important the natural world is to all of us. Your love and awe for the creatures with whom we share the world is palpable: planting milkweed for the butterflies, pointing out a flying squirrel to a friend, protecting the last cardinal fledgling from the crows and hawks, facing down a fisher, even looking by blacklight for scorpions. Diane Ackerman says that her strategy for conserving our wildlife is to instill love for specific animals and habitats in other folks. It’s obvious that none of you need any nudging in that direction.