Wildlife, Loppers and Chainsaws: 1988 Vegetation Crew: My Wild, Rare, and Untold Adventures Working for the Minnesota Conservation Corps
by Lisa Loucks-Christenson (Author, Illustrator, Photographer)
In 1988, I stepped out of my comfort zone and changed my life. I had accepted a job working on the Vegetation Crew for the Minnesota Conservation Corps. It was a seasonal position run, then, by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.
It was like God had heard my battle cry, and suddenly my life—and my faith—had changed. This was the year I lopped, sawed, preened, and cut my path to my future. I was not alone. I had the help of my crew: two men, both of whom had become stealth guardians of my heart—brother-like coworkers who became my safety net from the storms we weathered while we worked.
This is a record of my wild adventures: an unveiling of experiences as my crew traversed and cleared goat prairies at O.L. Kipp State Park (now called Great River Bluffs State Park); how we helped measure the second cave at Mystery Caves in Forestville State Park; what grasses we gathered at Carlos Avery Management Area; our tree projects at Frontenac State Park; the controlled burn at Helmer-Meyer State Park (now called Meyer-Big Island State Park); and our cutting and lopping at Sakatah Lake State Park—the “singing hills,” as given by the Dakota Indians. It was the place I found a mimic among us: an orange spicebush caterpillar. It was here that we sang along to Tracy Chapman’s new release, “Fast Car,” between bites of our lunch.
Our journey went fast, but we drove trucks—not cars. Our lives changed with each season. Our strength had become a threefold cord intertwined with each other’s thoughts. Surreptitiously, we had become shields around each other’s souls. Inside this story, you’ll discover a grandfather figure who had spiritually hitched a ride with us—and how his words became our mantra once we realized that things really did work out for the best in the end. It was his gift of words that helped us shudder through our storms.
This story shares the seasons of new friendships, rare animal findings (banding the rare Henslow’s sparrow), finding a state-endangered species (the common five-lined skink), and stepping on—and over—six-foot timber rattlesnake sheds on the south-facing goat prairies where they liked to sunbathe and had their dens. It shares our bee and hornet stings as well as losing another MCC member we had worked with.
Hop on the tailgate of this photographic trip shared in this memoir and ride the back roads of our lives: the inside story of three new adults growing up, believing our old age was far beyond the bluffs in view. It was a time when we all relied on each other and formed an unbreakable bond.
This was our time to become stewards of the environment—a time to study and learn about rare and endangered species—hardly ever chipping my pink nails. We became artists taking “before” scenes and making them “after” scenic views. In time, we’d learn to summon our faith and could tell any bluff to “move”—and in some ways, it did.
Prior to this job, my life had felt like a series of coin tosses with heads-or-tails results that had led me nowhere—and in every direction. One unnerving flip after another used dimes, nickels, and quarters that only shimmered like mirages as they fell—giving spinning hints about my future. Luckily, the hat I wore now—unlike the headwear of my costly past—this cap stamped with the Minnesota Conservation Corps logo was given to me free.
