COVER STORY:

A Land of Milk & Money

Is a hillside dotted with bovines a bucolic image of yesteryear? A group of innovative dairy producers are proving that when it comes to a sustainable future, factory farming is the real endangered species.

By Brian DeVore

Listen to Dan Vosberg for five minutes and you'll detect a commodity that's in short supply in dairy country these days: optimism. He's 36 and his wife Ruth is 32. The southwest Wisconsin couple has been farming for seven years and they already have contemporaries in the business who are burned out, or have called it quits altogether. But Dan seems genuine when he talks about the possibilities dairy farming holds for them and their primary school-aged son and daughter.

"I really would like our children to have the opportunity to get involved in a farming operation like this," he says while taking a break from pouring concrete for a midwinter addition they're making to their dairy operation. "I love it."

Hard numbers
It's nice to hear such confidence, but one must wonder at its source in light of the cold facts: America is losing dairy farms at a rate of 34 a day, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Low milk prices and high input costs are taking a terrible toll. Wisconsin and Minnesota, the nation's number two and five dairy states respectively, are each losing on average more than 20 dairy farmers per week. New York, the nation's number three dairy state, is losing its milk producers at a clip of 12 per week. The cows are going too: Wisconsin is losing almost 29,000 milk cows annually, Minnesota 17,000.

So is Dan Vosberg a raving lunatic? Hardly. He's just had the opportunity to experience a different sort of trend in dairy farming, one that relies less on the kind of expensive inputs that can put a family out of business and more on the natural and human resources available in places like the Midwest and Northeast. "Management intensive rotational grazing," is no back-to-the-land fad. It's taking the form of a sophisticated economic, environmental and social revolution that's already made New Zealand the low-cost milk producer of the world. And it offers a family-sized sustainable alternative to Wall Street-backed factory dairies.

Grassroots revolution
Intensive grazing is virtually the only way milk is produced in countries like New Zealand, and it has exploded in popularity here in the U.S. within the past decade or so. Grazing conferences are attracting hundreds of farmers and pasture clubs have proliferated in states like Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Iowa, Pennsylvania and New York. Between 1992 and 1994, the number of dairy operations in Wisconsin using intensive grazing techniques increased 78 percent to nearly 4,000 farms, making them roughly 14 percent of all dairies. And the numbers continue to grow, according to a series of surveys conducted by the Agricultural Technology and Family Farm Institute at the University Wisconsin.

This type of milk production is based on the concept that having cattle harvest their own feed in a controlled manner (and then deliver their manure back to the land in an equally controlled manner) is much more efficient than a reliance on a highly mechanized feed delivery and waste hauling system. Intensive grazing does not consist of merely turning cattle out onto large permanent pastures all summer, allowing them to graze wherever they want. Timed graziers break up pastures into numerous small paddocks using portable electric fencing. The cows are usually moved at least on a daily basis to a new paddock during the growing season. This spreads manure evenly over the land, and allows the grass to recover quickly and produce feed throughout the season (graziers in northern states often have a grass season that extends from April to November).

Per-cow milk productivity on intensive grazing operations can be significantly lower. That's because grass farmers rely less on high-energy feeds like corn and do not push milk output with injections of genetically engineered bovine growth hormone. In addition, cattle in this country have had much of their ability to make efficient use of grazed forage bred out of them. Genetic lines now favor cows that stay indoors for most of their lives, producing large amounts of milk for a few short years before being culled.

Critics of grass-based dairying say its lower than average milk output makes it an economic bust. The reality tells a different story. Grass farmers don't need high-tech confinement barns, silos or lots of cropping equipment. Farmers who convert to grass farming notice in particular a huge drop in their feed expenses. It costs up to six times less to feed animals on pasture than to feed them in confinement, according to studies done here and in New Zealand. That's important when one considers that feeding expenses account for up to 65 percent of the total cost of producing milk.

Minnesota grazier Jon Luhman has firsthand experience with that: "Before I was spending $1,500 a month on protein pellets. That was a total waste. It was a result of poor forage management."

Veterinary bills, another major expense of dairying, have been shown to plummet by as much as two-thirds once cattle are rotationally grazed.

When considered as a whole, grazing operations are quite competitive financially, according to studies conducted in Minnesota, Michigan, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Virginia and Wisconsin. Using a range of techniques - experiment station model farms, paired on-farm case studies, and farm budgeting simulation models - researchers have found that net income returns per cow tend to be higher among graziers than among comparable confinement operations. A study conducted by the University of Minnesota's North Central Experiment Station in 1991 and 1992 found that although a herd under management intensive grazing had a 7 percent lower milk yield when compared to its confined counterpart, reduced production costs resulted in a $48 higher average net return per grazed cow.

A comparison of eight grazing herds and eight confined herds on private farms in Wisconsin during 1991 and 1992 turned up similar results. The cows in the pasture-based herds produced an average of 15,300 pounds of milk annually, 3,300 pounds less than the confined herds. But the grass farmers saved an average of nearly $24 per acre in out-of-pocket costs by cutting row-crop; pesticide and fertilizer savings alone were significant. Because of these and other savings, the grass-based farms yielded a net cash return of 46 cents more per hundredweight of milk.

The higher returns with lower inputs associated with grazing has made it possible for herds of around 100 cows to produce a livable wage, which runs counter to the prevailing attitude that only 300-plus cow herds or larger can support farm families these days. University of Wisconsin dairy extension educator John Cockrell says low cost methods such as management intensive grazing are the only hope for getting beginning farmers on the land.

"These young people right out of college aren't going to have $100,000 to $200,000 to start farming," he says. "Fifty to sixty percent equity isn't going to happen. They are going to have more like $1,000 to $2,000."

Dan and Ruth Vosberg certainly didn't have $100,000 to throw around when they bought a repossessed 130-acre farm on some poor land and started converting it to a grazing system. After starting with a couple dozen cows and no financial equity, the Vosbergs now have a 110-cow herd. Three years ago, they went seasonal, drying the entire herd off for roughly two months each winter.

The result? An impressive balance sheet. Their return to investment in 1997 was 6.38 percent (the average dairy operation in the state has a return to investment of more like 1 percent). Their debt to asset ratio is considerably better than 50/50 and their return to equity has risen from negative 5.4 percent to 11.98 percent in three years.

To be sure, rotational grazing is not dairying farming's silver bullet. Adjusting to lower milk production and learning the fine art of pasture management can be difficult (for one thing, modern American milk cows aren't bred to make good use of grazed forage). Many farmers established as conventional milk producers find it difficult to make the transition to a grass-based system. In fact, there have been cases of financially strapped farmers using grazing as a last-ditch attempt to get out of debt and save the operation. Too often they end up stuck with the financial debts of conventional dairying while trying to struggle with the management difficulties of converting to grass-based farming. The results can be disastrous.

The Vosberg's have had their share of difficulties. But after a lot of hard work they can see the light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to becoming financially secure.

"We feel we've shown you can make money while still in transition," says Dan. "I think in two years we will really be hitting our stride. Then I don't think anybody can touch us."

Land friendly
Management intensive grazing is attracting some positive attention from environmentalists as well. It's one of those unique agricultural practices that allows farmers to produce food profitability without damaging the land. First off, there's no need for leak-prone manure lagoons when the cattle are spreading the manure themselves. And when done properly, intensive grazing is much friendlier to the soil than even traditional pastures.

A three-year study by the Minnesota Cooperative Fish and Wildlife Unit of six farms practicing management intensive grazing in southeast Minnesota found that such a technique can reduce significantly the amount of sediment flowing into a waterway. The study also found that a stream degraded by overgrazing starts to recover as it flows through a rotationally grazed area. And the environmental benefits of grass-based farming take in the larger ecological picture as well. Pasture-based farms burn 25 percent to 40 percent less fuel than farms that rely on tilled crops for feed, according to University of Vermont Researchers.

"I know my farm's soil is more productive than when I started," says Jon Luhman, who since 1992 has been grazing the highly erosive bluff country near the southeast Minnesota city of Red Wing. "It's getting better and better."

The steep land Charles and Dorothy Opitz produce milk on in southwest Wisconsin's Coulee Region was never meant to grow row crops.

"Do you think I could run a fertilizer spreader here?" Charles asks, pointing at a ditch that would be an eroded gully if it wasn't for its thick carpet of grass. "That has never been fertilized. You have to remember that when these prairie soils were being developed, there wasn't a fertilizer truck following the bison around. We're just mimicking the migration of the buffalo."

Paving the milky way
Despite its economic and environmental advantages, grass-based milk production is not yet seen by industry leaders as playing a major role in American dairy farming's future. The chief operating officer of Land O' Lakes Inc., one of the largest milk processors in the world, recently made it quite clear in an interview with the Minneapolis Star Tribune that he knows what it takes to survive in the dairy business: "We're convinced that the farmers and producers who are going to be in the 21st century are those that are learning and adapting quickly."

Dairy farmers who have worked hard to learn and adapt management intensive grazing methods would agree. But in Land O' Lakes' eyes, adapting quickly means pouring concrete and planting corn, not grazing grass. The newspaper described how the 10,000-member farmer cooperative had helped one family develop a 700-herd operation with 18 employees. The farm, which had 40 cows some 40 years ago, now sports a $4 million barn and a computer networked milking facility. Land O' Lakes has a special program set up to help with the financial and technical aspects of setting up such factory operations.

All of this is an attempt to replicate the new dairy model emerging from places like California, which is now the number one milk producing state. California is losing farmers too. But through a reliance on Wall Street cash, factory operations that put thousands of cows in confinement, special government milk pricing perks and subsidized irrigation water, that state is gaining 22,000 cows each year.

This kind of increase impresses officials in traditional dairy states who are alarmed that milk processors will leave areas where milk production is dropping. As a result, owners of mega-dairy operations are offered tax incentives, lax environmental standards and watered down corporate farms laws to move from the South and West to colder climes. Some processors pick up milk from large producers for free.

In Minnesota and Iowa, state officials have formed special "teams" to lure factory dairies from other states and encourage resident farmers to expand. All of this is starting to pay off for factory farm boosters. Corporate-owned, thousand cow-plus confinement dairies are now casting long shadows over 50-100 cow family operations. Meanwhile, resident dairy farmers are expanding their herds to the 700-cow range in an attempt to compete with these mega-dairies.

Financially sour
All this excitement over luring the factory model of milking to traditional dairy states may keep large processors happy, but there is strong evidence that it will lock agricultural communities into a farming system that is environmentally, economically and socially unsustainable.

The University of Wisconsin's Cockrell, who has studied dairying from California to New Zealand, says the Midwest should capitalize on a resource drier states do not have: grass, lots and lots of cheap growing grass.

"I have doubts that the 500-cow confinement system will ever be a major player in the Upper Midwest," says Cockrell. "They are getting a lot of attention, mostly from people who are selling something. As long as we decide we have to build housing and have large capital investment, there is no way to keep dairying in the Upper Midwest."

Charles Opitz agrees. He sees confinement dairying as a high-speed treadmill. He knows what he's talking about. Thirty years ago he was doing the kind of dairying that was considered "cutting edge." At his peak, he had 900 confined Holsteins pumping out milk twice a day.

"With confinement, you're always going to be fixing roofs, fixing manure spreaders, and doubling your herd and doubling your herd and doubling your herd," says Opitz, who in 1987 started converting to grazing. "The more high tech you get, the faster you have to run."

The high humidity and brutal winters that afflict states like Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa shorten the life spans of high-tech, well-insulated confinement facilities considerably. In a place like California, feed may be more expensive, but the lack of a need for heavy-duty housing more than makes up for that.

Sure, says Cockrell, states like Minnesota and Wisconsin need to keep their cow numbers up. But why not do it with many small and medium sized farmers, rather than a few mega-sized corporate operations?

Rural communities would certainly benefit more from a system that keeps more dairy farmers on moderate-sized operations. A University of Minnesota study conducted in 1995 used economic statistics, census figures and interviews with residents of the Green Isle, Minn., area to examine the impact of dairy farming on a local community. The study shows that between the 1970s and 1990s, the number of farmers serving the local creamery dropped from 1,400 to 960. The larger dairy operations (more than 300 cows) that started dominating the area bypassed local suppliers, reducing the need for Main Street businesses.

"Meanwhile, economic and social activity in Green Isle declined, retail sales dropped by 81 percent between 1979 and 1989, the public dance hall closed, and the grade school adjourned permanently. Today, a collection of main street stores, feed mills, and a manufacturing plant remain idle," reported the study's author.

Milking the environment
Mega-dairy operations threaten to bankrupt the environment as well. A typical cow produces as much waste as 24 people. As more herds get crowded into smaller areas, dairies are increasingly being blamed for the kind of large-scale water contamination that mega-hog farms have already brought to rural areas.

California offers a peek at what's to come if mega-dairies predominate in other parts of the country. Most of California's dairy cows are concentrated in the Central Valley (in 1996, there were 891,000 milk cows and heifers in the valley, up 42 percent from a decade before), and they create as much waste as a city of 21 million. The putrid broth of manure, urine and water that is produced by these dairies is leaking into the ground water. Between 1984 and 1996, the number of public water wells in the Central Valley with nitrate levels above drinking water standards jumped fourfold, according to the San Francisco Chronicle. In 1993, 44 test wells dug near five dairies by the California Department of Health Services showed nitrate levels five times the drinking water limit.

Grade A farm life
The environmental and economic handcuffs factory dairying places on rural communities are just a few of the reasons more farmers are turning to grass-based milk production. For many farm families, there is one other equally important perk to grazing that doesn't show up on any financial balance sheet or water quality test: a better quality of life. With his open-air New Zealand style swing parlors set in the middle of pastures interspersed with burr oak, it's like "milking in a park," says Charles Opitz. "Aesthetically it's awful pleasing."

Jon Luhman, who has a 100-cow milking herd, sees switching to a grass-based system as a change in mind-set just as much as a change in production practices. Luhman says he found his own ability to manage the animals and the land became much bigger factors when he switched to grazing. That gives him a sense of freedom that being tied to an expensive set of buildings doesn't allow. Plus, he just plain likes working outside.

"I have a neighbor who just invested almost $2 million in a 420-cow capacity free stall barn. He'll produce more milk than I ever will, but when I saw that new barn I thought to myself, 'You just paid a couple million dollars to work hard the rest of your life.' ''

A reduced reliance on cultivated crops means less time sitting on a tractor seat for Dan and Ruth Vosberg. To cut labor at milking time, they modified an 18-year-old pole barn into a New Zealand swing style system for around $48,000, roughly a third of what it would have cost to build a conventional parlor for the same number of cows. They can now finish the milking in about an hour and a half; that's about two-thirds of the time the same number of cows would spend in a high-tech parlor. That means the cows are back out on grass quicker. Just as important, labor-saving measures such as that translate into more quality time spent with their children, Derek and Magen. The Vosbergs went on a trip one year during the herd's two-month dry period, and have joined a local YMCA, where the children have learned to swim.

"If we weren't grazing, I wouldn't be dairying," says Dan. "A friend of mine recently said dairy farming is like standing in line waiting to step off a cliff. I feel like we're not even in that line."

The other side of the crisis

Tackling the price issue in dairy farming isn't easy

When you buy half a gallon of milk at the grocery store, and pay, let's say, around $1.70, about 70 cents of that will make it back to the farmer. That share has gone down over the years, while the prices farmers pay for feed, equipment, land and other inputs keeps going up. Meanwhile, large dairy processors have been chalking up record earnings in recent years.

Farmers like Charles Opitz are using grass-based dairying to reduce their input costs and thus increase their profitability. But even a veteran grazier like Opitz admits there's a limit to the extent to which alternative production strategies can keep him in business.

"As individual farmers you can reduce costs but they just screw the price down tighter and tighter."

That's why more farmers are looking to the other end of the dairy crisis - the price they receive - and trying to figure out how to tilt that in favor of producers.

Prehistoric pricing
Currently, the federal government provides a market floor for milk producers, ensuring they will get a minimum price no matter what happens on the open market. One of the major reasons milk production has been moving out of the Midwest to southern and western states is that the government's minimum price is higher in those regions. That's the result of a 60-year-old pricing system that has not had a connection to reality in decades.

Under the system, the government sets the minimum price paid to farmers for fluid milk, based in part on the farm's distance from the mythical center of the U.S. dairy universe: Eau Claire, Wis. The further away one is from Eau Claire, the higher the government price support. This system was set up in the 1930s to encourage milk production in states where warm weather made milk production without refrigeration difficult. But a lot has changed in six decades, and states like Florida, Texas, Arizona and California are using high technology, subsidized irrigation water, cheap Midwestern grain and lax environmental regulations to produce milk cheaper than was ever thought possible.

Finally, in November, a U.S. District Court Judge in Minneapolis declared the pricing system illegal. He was ruling on a lawsuit brought by a group of Minnesota farmers more than eight years ago. Lynn Hayes, an attorney with Farmers Legal Action Group in St. Paul - an organization the Land Stewardship Project works closely with on various issues - represented the farmers throughout the life of the lawsuit. She says the judge's ruling represents a huge victory for Midwestern farmers.

But the U.S. Department of Agriculture immediately requested a delay in the enforcement of the judge's ruling. USDA officials argued that the sudden removal of a 60-year-old milk pricing system would create chaos. At this writing, the pricing system is still in place. All of this comes at a time when the USDA is facing an April 1999 deadline to reform the entire milk marketing system. It's believed the November ruling may open the door for the USDA to make real changes to a system that is so dense and complicated - it fills three volumes of the Code of Federal Regulations - that it was able to survive this long by virtue of being unapproachable.

Whatever happens to the marketing system, there's a good chance that 1999 will mark the beginning of a government withdrawal from the dairy business, eventually leaving milk producers to fare for themselves on the open market. One way or the other, farmers are going to have to find creative ways to get paid more for the milk they produce.

The organic market, with premium prices that are sometimes several dollars per hundredweight higher than the conventional market price, has proven to be a financial boon for some producers. Through processors like Wisconsin's Coulee Region Organic Produce Pool and Minnesota Organic Milk, consumers are able to reward small and medium-sized family farmers for producing milk in an environmentally sound manner.

However, organics still remain a niche market, and not all producers are willing or able to produce milk completely free of chemicals and antibiotics.

Striving for a sustainable dairy system is fine, but if something isn't done in the near term, there won't be any family farmers left to adopt such techniques as grass-based dairying, says Arlene Nelson, an Altura, Minn., dairy farmer. That's why Nelson has joined a group called American Raw Milk Producers Pricing Association (ARMPPA), based in Waunakee, Wis.

This is a three-year-old national effort to gain control of a large enough volume of milk to influence prices in favor of the farmer. The group is still in the organizing stage, but eventually it plans on working something like this: For a small membership fee, a farmer becomes a member of the group. If a processor refuses to pay what ARMPPA farmer-members consider a fair price for milk, ARMPPA will collect their milk and ship it to a processor that pays more.

ARMPPA, which describes itself as a marketing agency, will never own the milk. It will simply serve as a collective bargaining unit that can move milk around. In the past it's been difficult for individual farmers to shop around for a better raw milk price because of the perishability of the product. Nelson says if ARMPPA can get control of a large enough volume, it can efficiently move milk to better markets. The group has been recruiting members in dairy-producing states such as Wisconsin, Minnesota, New York, Pennsylvania and Maryland, and hopes eventually to control about 20 percent of national milk production. At that point, ARMPPA feels, its farmers will be in the position to "announce" a price to the nation's processors that's based on farmers' cost of production data. As costs of production rise, price announcements will rise accordingly, says Nelson.

What happens when production goes up in response to higher prices, creating a glut of milk? ARMPPA officials concede that if this collective bargaining plan ever becomes successful, it will face the prospect of limiting production to maintain higher prices paid to farmers. One strategy being considered is to limit membership in the organization, much like the Ocean Spray marketing agency does with cranberry growers.

"If we can get a fair price for milk, then there's hope for other commodities," says Nelson.

1948-1998: Leopold's legacy

"That land is a community is the basic concept of ecology, but that land is to be loved and respected is an extension of ethics."
- Aldo Leopold, 1948

By Brian DeVore

April 21, 1998 marks an anniversary worth observing if you're at all interested in the beliefs that are at the core of such a group as the Land Stewardship Project. Fifty years ago Aldo Leopold died unexpectedly, his overworked, ever-active 62-year-old mind finally at rest.

His book, A Sand County Almanac, was published a little over a year after his death. It served as the catalyst for the beginning of many a land stewardship cause, including LSP in 1982.

But Leopold's writings aren't his only important legacies. He also extended his influence far into the future through people like Art Hawkins, an LSP member who now lives in Lino Lakes, Minn. Art, born in Batavia, N.Y., in 1913, studied field biology at Cornell University. Later, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, he was one of three original "wildlifers" to study under Leopold.

Art and his fellow Leopold apprentices went on to shape the burgeoning wildlife ecology field in many important ways. During the mid-1930s, he worked with Leopold on wildlife research conducted in southwest Wisconsin's Coon Valley, the nation's first watershed-wide soil erosion control effort. In 1938 he helped design the first lightweight wood duck nesting box. As an employee of the Illinois Natural History Survey and later the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Art pioneered methods for counting ducks.

But the Hawkins conservation ethic has gone beyond the duties of a graduate student or civil servant. In 1954, Art and his wife Betty moved to a worn out 110-acre dairy farm and started carving out their own version of the Leopold family's "shack" experiment in central Wisconsin. Now, 44 years later, the remaining 50 acres is a haven for waterfowl, songbirds and at least one pair of nesting ospreys. It's the land ethic in action, and it's taking place within a 20-minute commute of both Twin Cities downtowns.

I've been reading about Leopold's "land ethic" for almost 20 years. Art and Betty recently gave me a more personal insight into this ideal when they provided a tour of their land.

"All the farmers were interested in Leopold. He was a charismatic man and everyone who met him was entranced by him," recalls Betty, whose grandfather Stoughton Faville lent his name to the Faville Grove Wildlife Experimental Area.

Faville Grove involved 10 farms in the Madison, Wis., area that participated in an effort on the part of Leopold and his students to improve wildlife habitat. Art was in charge of the Wildlife Experiment Area and he and other graduate students lived in a vacant farmhouse in the area.

The Faville Grove area contained some of Wisconsin's foremost purebred Holstein milking herds, yet the farmers were also interested in promoting wildlife management on their lands. They were particularly interested in having Leopold and his students help them with establishing food plots and cover plantings for wildlife and controlling trespass problems. The students - some came from farming backgrounds, while others did not - got on good terms with the farmers by helping out with such jobs as haying.

Art says Leopold had an easy way with the farmers, something he learned earlier in the century while working as a forester in New Mexico's ranch country. His knowledge of farming ranged from the practical to the philosophical. He knew how to shoe a horse, but was just as adept at discussing the "big-picture" financial and social challenges that confronted these farm families.

"He could talk to farmers," recalls Art. "He'd go down to the barn and a farmer might be milking cows and he'd be able to talk to him in his own language."

Communicating with these farmers was important to Leopold, because he saw them as partners in the struggle to establish long-term conservation on the land. He was a firm believer that the future of true land stewardship in the Midwest lay in the hands of the private landowner, says Art.

"One of the reasons for coming out here to Lino Lakes is I wanted to get experience with the government programs that were available at that time, like the soil bank setaside program and the pond development program," recalls Art as he and Betty hike across the mix of timber, open glades and newly-planted prairie that makes up the former dairy farm. "I was pushing these programs myself around the country and I thought I better have some experience with how they were actually working."

It's one of those electric-orange fall days that only a writer like Aldo Leopold could give justice to, and the Hawkins place has never looked better. Art and Betty live in the original farmhouse, which was built sometime during the middle part of the 19th century. A daughter, Amy Donlin, lives in a newer home on a different part of the farm with her family. (Another daughter, Ellen, works for the U.S. Forest Service, and a son, Tex, is a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist.)

Amy has become quite active in local land use issues, an easy thing to do in a part of Minnesota that's seen such rapid sprawl in recent years. In fact, land-killing development has hung over the area like a shadow since the Hawkins family moved here. Soon after they began rebuilding the natural ecosystem on this farm, the 35E freeway cut off part of their land. They lost a court battle to keep the land intact and several acres of prime hardwood timber were destroyed by the new Interstate Highway system.

Recalls Betty: "The thing that really hurt my feelings was when I heard the saws begin."

But what remains of the land more than makes up for those lost acres. During the past four decades, the Hawkins clan has dug about a dozen pothole wetlands and planted dozens of different trees and other plants as food and habitat plots. Their 45 wood duck boxes turn out about 150 ducklings annually, and their two osprey pole nesting platforms have hatched 11 young during the past five years. Lake Amelia, a shallow, 200-acre state-owned body of water, borders one side of the property, providing habitat for loons and an endless variety of other waterfowl as well as shore birds. The family has even set up roost boxes for tree frogs. Like his mentor, Art keeps meticulous records of nature's comings and goings, and has listed 200 birds, 36 mammals and 16 reptiles and amphibians on the land.

A recent project is the propagation of prairie on former pasture and crop land. Indian grass and tall bluestem are now coming on strong.

Keep in mind all of this is occurring on a piece of land that is bordered by busy local roads on two sides and an Interstate Highway on the third. The drone of constant traffic accompanies the twitterings of cedar waxwings and the cries of osprey. Keeping the area in a relatively natural state hasn't come without a fight. When Art and Betty raised concerns in the early 1990s about a proposed housing project on one side of Lake Amelia, the developer sued them for "defamation of character." Such nuisance lawsuits, called Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP), are often used by developers to intimidate citizens and grassroots groups who may want to speak out on land use issues. But the Hawkins family didn't back down, and bitterly fought the lawsuit for two years. The developer finally dropped his SLAPP. Even better, their struggle inspired the Minnesota Public Participation Act of 1994. Art himself testified at the capitol in favor of the legislation, which is considered one of the nation's strongest anti-SLAPP laws.

The family has also become adept at working with the same entities that can threaten natural landscapes. Four of their ponds were funded by a company to mitigate for wetland losses it caused during development across the road. A utility company, hungry for good publicity, donated the poles and labor needed to set up two osprey towers. In fact, the hill the towers sit on has caught the attention of local business owners; they've offered money in exchange for a spot to post a billboard.

But the Hawkins family has made it clear that the needs of the land will not take a back seat to the financial bottom line. After all, that would be like selling one's family portrait at a garage sale. To ensure such conservation continues long after they're gone, the family has put most of its land in a conservation easement through the Minnesota Land Trust. This means that no matter who owns the land in the future, it can't be developed.

But they aren't satisfied with simply sitting on a living museum of natural history, creating an island of nature in the midst of exurbia. The couple frequently hosts groups of ecology students and Art would like to find a way to make such a landscape self-sustaining financially. In the end, the family hopes to show local officials and neighboring residents that the last, best use of land isn't necessarily subdivisions and cul de sacs.

"[Leopold's Almanac] came along at just the right time, reminding [conservationists] that a love of nature was still the impulse behind their work, even when facing the most difficult contemporary issues."
- Curt Meine, 1988

As I nosed my pickup out of Art and Betty's yard onto a dangerously busy two-lane highway, I realized that places like this remind one of why we undertake sometimes unpleasant, always difficult, battles to protect the land. I parked on the sterile concrete that surrounds the White Bear Township 14-screen theater and watched a pair of osprey land and takeoff from one of the Hawkins' platforms.

Young movie patrons streamed out of the cineplex, oblivious to the aerial artistry less than 100 yards away. They were also unaware that just over the hill two "retirees" are quietly proving that something called A Sand County Almanac isn't just a 50-year-old piece of pretty prose. It's a how-to handbook of the most practical kind.

Brian DeVore is the editor of the Land Stewardship Letter. For more on Leopold's work with farmers and conservation pioneers like Art Hawkins, check out Curt Meine's Aldo Leopold: His Life and Work (1988, University of Wisconsin Press).

The overthrow of organic agriculture?

By Brian DeVore

The U.S. Department of Agriculture announced its proposed rules for governing the organic food business on Dec. 15. At the same time, the agency released a prototype of the seal it would like to put on organically certified produce, meat, eggs and dairy products once the rules are finalized. One organic inspector likened the triangle shape of the seal to the bomb shelter symbols popular in the 1950s.

Considering the fallout the proposed rules have created, such a symbol may be more appropriate than the USDA would like.

"If that ends up being the final rule, we can kiss organics good-bye," says Carmen Fernholz, who has raised chemical-free soybeans and corn near Madison, Minn., for two decades.

That's one of the milder comments the proposed National Organic Standards are generating these days. It would not be an overstatement to say the organic community's collective jaw plummeted to earth when it realized the proposed rules would not ban such things in food production as sewage sludge, genetically engineered organisms and irradiation. It's also became clear this isn't just a flawed piece of government paperwork that the jettisoning of a few controversial pieces can fix. A lot is at stake. By capturing premium prices - sometimes double the going price for conventional foods - organic grains, produce and milk have helped mostly smaller farmers get rewarded for producing food in an environmentally sound manner.

But these proposed rules fall so far from the original intent of the Organic Foods Production Act of 1990 that they could ironically bring an end to an industry that has slowly won the confidence of consumers while struggling for respectability in the mainstream business and agricultural community, says Jim Riddle, whose Winona, Minn., farm serves as the headquarters of the Independent Organic Inspectors Association. Riddle, who has been studying the 499-pages of proposed rules since December, is able to find one bit of nothing-unites-like-a-common-enemy silver lining in all of this: "They've certainly mobilized the organic community in a way we've never been mobilized before."

Mobilized, indeed. By late February, the USDA had received more than 10,000 comments on the proposals, almost all of them negative. An embarrassed Secretary of Agriculture finally extended the comment period by 45 days until April 30. At USDA forums around the country in February and March, virtually everyone who testified was in opposition to the proposed rules. At an Iowa forum, even Dale Cochran, that state's secretary of Agriculture, weighed in against the rules. The ninth annual Upper Midwest Organic Farming Conference, held in late February at Sinsinawa Mound, Wis., was attended by more than 1,000 farmers, processors and retailers. As in past conferences, workshops and informal discussions centered around subjects such as how to do good business planning and the best way to control weeds without chemicals. But the proposed rules hung over this year's gathering like a chemical-soaked cloud.

"We have a right to be angry about not only what was done to us, but how it was done," said conference speaker Roger Blobaum, a policy expert specializing in organic and sustainable agriculture issues.

The USDA, which developed the proposal with major input from other federal agencies, has responded by making it clear these are just proposed rules, and nothing is final yet. USDA officials have also reshuffled some staffers to put in place people who appear to be more "organic-friendly." In a statement released in February, USDA Secretary Glickman hinted that sludge use, irradiation and genetically modified organisms may be dumped as a sign of compromise.

But major organic trade groups are taking the stand that just dumping the "big three" is not enough. The USDA should resubmit the proposed rules in a form that's more consistent with the original intent of the law that mandated these rules be created, say critics. The Organic Foods Production Act of 1990 was an attempt to standardize the rules that currently govern organic food production in this country. Currently, there are 11 state and roughly 30 independent certifying agencies that help ensure farmers are not using chemicals or other inputs and practices that are not widely accepted as environmentally friendly and working with natural systems. This patchwork quilt regulatory system has worked relatively well. However, it can make interstate and international trade in chemical-free food difficult.

And farmers who are producing meat and poultry without the use of chemicals or antibiotics have for years been looking forward to the opportunity to legally use the word "organic" in their labeling.

A national set of organic standards comes at a time when this type of "alternative" food production and processing system is fast shedding its niche market image. Between 1986 and 1996, the market for organic food in this country grew 40-fold to sales totaling $3.5 billion. In Minnesota, organic farm acreage has grown about 20 percent a year in recent years. In Iowa, it's one of the fastest growing segments of agricultural production. It's estimated that organic foods will grow from 1 percent to 10 percent of the total market between now and the early part of the 21st century.

In addition, other countries producing organic food have been waiting on the U.S. to develop uniform standards. This means any national rules could serve as a bellwether for standards all over the world. Even countries that have already developed organic rules could be pressured to lower or raise their standards based on what happens in this country.

Cynics have said that the organic industry may be the victim of its own success. Blobaum says once major corporations realized there was money to be made with chemical-free products, they pressured the government to lower standards to the point where their factory-like production methods would be allowed. In fact, several major food companies have already acquired smaller organic processors in recent years.

The 1990 law was supposed to prevent corporate interests from holding sway by creating the National Organic Standards Board, a 15-member panel made up of farmers, processors and consumers involved in the organics industry. The Board's mandate was to advise Glickman on the parameters of the national standards. But Bill Welsh, who joined the Standards Board in July, says the proposed rules bear no resemblance to the recommendations that were hammered out during the past several years. The result is a set of rules so watered down that it's difficult to differentiate between organic and conventional production practices, says Welsh, who raises chemical- and antibiotic-free beef, pork and poultry on 280 acres near Lansing, Iowa.

Welsh says the majority of the comments sent into the USDA center around the use of sludge, irradiation and genetically engineered organisms. Those are important issues, but could draw attention away from other problems with the proposals that are just as key to maintaining the integrity of organics. For example:

• The rules allow livestock to be fed up to 20 percent non-organic feed and to be treated with antibiotics under certain circumstances. The rules do not mandate that animals get access to the outdoors.
• Loopholes could permit use of synthetic pesticides and other materials in organics that have never been allowed.
• Previous uses of land would not be adequately taken into account when it is certified for organic production, even if it once was heavily contaminated.
• The authority to decertify growers, processors and manufacturers would be placed solely in the hands of the USDA. This could result in a lengthy, bureaucratic de-certification process.
• The cost of being certified could skyrocket, sending access to the organic market out of the range of smaller farmers.

Even in the minutia there are problems with the proposal. For example, it fails to define what constitutes "soil degradation." Welsh fears nothing short of total, immediate trashing of the soil will be considered non-organic by this standard.

"Frankly, I farmed with chemicals for 20 years before I noticed major degradation of the soil," he says.

The government's inability to recognize such a simple fact gets at the heart of how these rules ended up so far from the desires of organic consumers, farmers and processors. When developing the rules, government officials looked at "organic farming" as simply a flavor of conventional agriculture sans the chemicals, says Mark Kastel, a marketing consultant who works with Coulee Regional Organic Producer Pool, the nation's largest organic farmer's cooperative. That made it easy for them to ignore the philosophical, economic and environmental foundations that support this type of farming. Organic farming is more than whether farmer X puts chemical Y on plant Z. It's a philosophy that responds directly to a consumer's desire for food that is not tainted by unsustainable practices, whether they involve chemicals or animal confinement, says Kastel. But instead of recognizing that, the government simply looked at it as a costs versus benefits problem.

Even farmers who are operating under the larger umbrella of "sustainable agriculture" and are not planning on ever being certified organic could be negatively affected by the rules. For example, farmers may not be allowed to use such labels as "antibiotic-free." There's concern such labels would confuse shoppers looking for the official USDA organic seal. For farmers in transition to organic production, or who only plan on taking their chemical- free methods to a certain point, this could be disastrous, says Kastel.

Many farmers who have already made the organic plunge say they will continue farming using natural systems no matter where the federal certification system ends up. But there's little doubt the government has thrown a big monkey wrench in the relationship organic farmers and consumers have built up over the years, says Welsh. It may take more than a USDA seal of approval to repair that damage.

"I've always dreamed of the day that a consumer could go into the store and pick up an organic product and feel good about it," says Welsh. "If we leave any question in the consumer's mind, we are no better off than before."

LSP NEWS

Flood of opinions expressed in TV town meeting
Considering the incredible amount of damage the Minnesota River wreaked upon communities in the upper reaches of its watershed last spring, it's no wonder people like David Smiglewski are looking for answers to how the waterway will behave in the future.

"As much as I thought I knew about the Minnesota River after living by it my whole life, I realize now every day I know very little," said Smiglewski, who is the mayor of Granite Falls, Minn., a community that was almost wiped out by an April 1997 flood of proportions not seen in at least 100 years.

Smiglewski made that statement on Jan. 15 during a day-long series of events entitled "The Future of Flooding." The highlight of the program was a town meeting televised throughout western Minnesota on Pioneer Public TV, KWCM Channel 10.

The Future of Flooding was sponsored by the Regional Long Term Flood Response Team (RLTFRT), a group made up of private citizens, government officials and staff members of nonprofit organizations. Land Stewardship Project organizer Patrick Moore is coordinating the effort. RLTFRT's mandate is to develop proactive ways of preventing a repeat of last spring.

In an attempt to get as much input from the public as possible, the team has been conducting surveys and holding public forums. The Future of Flooding sought to bring the public in touch with experts from various fields related to the behavior of watersheds. On-hand to answer questions from telephone callers as well as a 50-member studio audience were Gary McDevitt of the National Weather Service, David Lorenz of the U.S. Geological Survey, Kenton Spading of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and University of Minnesota extension climatologist Mark Seeley.

Like Smiglewski, many people asking questions of the experts were trying to determine how to predict future flooding events and ways of preventing a repeat of the devastation. Questions ranged from how flood-control dams were operated to the reasons floods seem to come earlier every year to alternative economic uses for flood plain land.

A question that dominated the entire discussion came repeatedly in various forms: What role do human activities such as the installation of drainage tiles play in flood levels? That's an important question in a watershed where more than 90 percent of the land use is agricultural in nature. But it also proved to be a tough question to wrestle with. The hydrologists and climatologists present said that outside factors, such as long-range weather patterns and short-range precipitation levels, play such large roles in flooding that human impacts are difficult to measure.

However, the consensus was that agricultural land use has added another variable to the relationship between water, the land and its people.

"The '97 flood was unprecedented. You have to go back to the 19th century to see a similar event," said Seeley. "This is the first time we have had a flood of this magnitude on a landscape so changed by agriculture. That makes it difficult to compare."

Flood control resolution catches on
A series of strategies designed to address long-term flooding problems in the upper Minnesota River watershed are being advanced by local and regional government agencies, thanks to the efforts of the Regional Long Term Flood Response Team (RLTFRT).

Patrick Moore, an LSP organizer who is coordinating the RLTFRT, says six local units of government - the cities of Granite Falls, Dawson and Montevideo, as well as Lac Qui Parle, Chippewa and Yellow Medicine counties - have passed resolutions calling for more wetland restoration, retention dams, recreational use of flood plains, research on metered drainage systems, downsized culverts and studies of how bridges and other structures affect flooding in the region. Several other communities in the watershed are considering passing such a resolution. In addition, the 37-county Minnesota River Basin Joint Powers Board passed a similar resolution with the long-term goal of improving water quality and reducing flood damage while promoting a healthy agricultural, industrial and recreation-based economy. These resolutions were developed by the RLTFRT after conducting surveys and holding public forums in the watershed in the wake of the 1997 flood.

For more information on the Flood Response Team and the resolution, contact Moore in LSP's western Minnesota office at (320) 269-2105; e-mail: pjmoore@northernnet.com.

Big manure-caused fish kill causing big legal problems
Minnesota's largest manure-caused fish kill to date has resulted in jail time and thousands of dollars in fines for Roger Kingstrom. Kingstrom is the owner of a nine-barn, 9,000 head finishing pig operation in Renville County. In June, a malfunctioning switch at the facility caused 100,000 gallons of raw manure to leak into the east branch of Beaver Creek. The result was 691,000 dead fish and 18.7 miles of polluted stream.

Kingstrom discovered the leak the morning after the switch had malfunctioned, but failed to report it to the authorities for three more days. As was reported in the August/September 1997 issue of the Land Stewardship Letter, if it hadn't been for the quick action of several local residents who tracked the spill down, pollution control officials may have never known its source.

On Feb. 13, an Eighth District Court judge ordered Kingstrom to serve 30 days in jail, make restitution of $40,019.47, pay a $2,500 fine, and serve two years of supervised probation for failing to report the spill right away. Kingstrom, who raises hogs for Christensen Farms & Feedlots, Inc., pled guilty to one of three gross misdemeanor charges, according to the West Central Tribune. In return for his guilty plea, the state agreed to dismiss the other two counts. The hog producer was told to begin serving jail time within 30 days of the sentence. He was allowed work release privileges.

According to the Tribune, Kingstrom has begun working on a compliance plan with the MPCA to prevent future spills. The judge stated that Kingstrom had committed a "serious criminal violation" and greatly increased the potential for environmental damage by not reporting the spill for three days.

The $40,000 in restitution will be made to the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources as compensation for the fish killed by the spill, and to cover the costs of investigation. Because none of the fish killed are considered "game," the restitution was much lower than it could have been. Along with the criminal penalties and restitution,.Kingstrom will be ordered by the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency to pay a $5,484 civil penalty.

At almost 700,000 fish, Minnesota Department of Natural Resources fisheries experts say this is probably the largest such kill caused by manure pollution in the state thus far.

Meanwhile, Christensen Farms moved up two notches in total size during 1997, making it the 19th largest hog producer in the country, according to Successful Farming magazine.

New LSP intern
Heather Fitzgerald has joined the Land Stewardship Project as an intern in its Twin Cities office.

Fitzgerald, a native of Arlington, Mass., has a bachelor's degree in biology and environmental studies from Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania. Fitzgerald has worked as an environmental educator, a botanist and a research assistant.

Fitzgerald will work with LSP's 1000 Friends of Minnesota program.

Bilek new SFA manager
DeEtta Bilek has been appointed the new program manager of the Sustainable Farming Association of Minnesota. Bilek succeeds Tim King, a Clotho, Minn., farmer who served as the program manager for the past two years.

The Sustainable Farming Association is a farmer-to-farmer educational organization started in 1988 with the help of LSP. It now has more than 1,000 members throughout Minnesota. For more information on joining a local SFA chapter or attending one of its many field days, contact Bilek at: RR-1, Box 4, Aldrich, MN 56434, tele.: (218) 445-5475; e-mail: deebilek@wcta.net.

Moore receives SWCS honor
Land Stewardship Project organizer Patrick Moore was named the 1998 recipient of the Minnesota Chapter of the Soil and Water.Conservation Society Honor Award at the Society's annual business meeting in.January.

The Honor Award recognizes non-members of.the Society for outstanding accomplishments in the natural resources field. In particular, the Society cited Moore's work in starting LSP's western Minnesota office and organizing Clean Up our River Environment (CURE).

Community-Based Planning Act takes next key step
When Minnesota's Community Based Planning Act was made into law in 1997, it marked a giant step toward creating sustainable growth in the state's rural, suburban and urban areas. Now come several smaller follow-up steps, each promising to leave a deep impression on Minnesota's landscape.

The law, which was developed by the Land Stewardship Project, creates a framework for sustainable planning based on goals related to, for example, environmental and farmland protection, as well as creation of affordable housing. The law is voluntary, and communities that agree to adhere to its goals will receive financial and technical support in doing their comprehensive planning. This law provides an opportunity for communities to avoid the kind of haphazard planning that creates cross-border conflicts between local units of government. It also helps residents and officials take a long view of what they want their communities to look like.

Or, as one participant in a public meeting on the new law put it: This law provides the framework to "make plans as if you need to live with the results for the next 300 years."

Many of the Act's smaller steps are being taken during the 1998 session of the Minnesota Legislature. Citizens and local government officials received some insights into what challenges remain in making the law more than a series of paper goals during a special Jan. 22 public forum held in St. Paul. Sponsored by the Land Stewardship Project and the Landmark Series, the forum featured members of the Community Based Planning Act Advisory Council, including LSP organizer Lee Ronning.

Rep. Dee Long, who along with Sen. Steve Morse was a key player in getting the law passed, said one thing members of the Advisory Council learned in a series of public forums held throughout the state last fall was that each community wants to have flexibility in how it deals with land use problems.

"People don't want a cookie-cutter approach," she said. "Communities differ vastly."

Morse said communities from different parts of the state all face similar land use dilemmas - feedlots, transportation and lack of coordination between local units of government, for example - but have different ideas of how they need to deal with them. That's why community based planning must remain true to its name and rely on local towns and counties to develop their own planning under a general framework of environmental, economic and social goals, said Morse. He also said that for the foreseeable future the law will remain an incentive-based voluntary system, rather than one that requires communities to plan.

"I don't think there is any way the state can implement these plans statewide on a local level," said Morse. "We can mandate plans all we want but what matters is what happens on the ground and the key to getting this implemented is on the local level."

Concerns were raised at the forum over the addition of a "property rights goal" to the Act. Questions were raised as to whether this goal would attract nuisance lawsuits from landowners who believe planning is a "taking" of their property's potential to be developed.

Ronning said property rights concerns were raised by only a few very vocal participants in the Advisory Council's fall public forums. Adding this as a new goal only adds fuel to the already hot debate over property rights, she said.

Morse defended the property rights goal, saying it already exists in the Minnesota Constitution and is nothing new. To not include the goal may have been political suicide, he maintained.

LSP executive director George Boody pointed out during the forum that the key to making this kind of comprehensive planning work is the involvement of citizens from all walks of life in a community. That kind of involvement, he said, requires something no law can provide: a sense of community.

"And government can't do that. We have to do it ourselves."

CBPA legislation
Some major fine-tuning of the Community Based Planning Act is currently taking place in the Minnesota Legislature. For information on what kind of changes are best for creating a truly sustainable land use law, contact Lee Ronning or Scott Elkins at the Land Stewardship Project's Twin Cities office. You can also keep track of the latest news on the Act (Senate File 2660, House File 3609), as well as all aspects of land use issues in Minnesota, by subscribing to LSP's free Minnesota Land Use electronic newsletter. Just send the message "subscribe 1000fom-news [your e-mail address]" to:majordomo@igc.org.

Contacting your legislator
If you are writing someone in the House or a Republican senator, the address is: State Office Building, St. Paul, MN 55155.

If you are writing a DFL senator, the address is:
Capitol Building, St. Paul, MN 55155

To call the Senate, dial (612) 296-0504. To call the House dial (612) 296-2146. You can track bills via the World Wide Web.

Transportation meetings this spring
The direct and indirect connections between transportation and suburban sprawl have become increasingly clear in recent years. As a result, the Land Stewardship Project will be sponsoring a series of discussions in March and April on land use and transportation (see Stewardship Calendar, p. 16).

These public forums will focus on what current transportation policy is in the Twin Cities region and new models for getting people from place to place. The final meeting of the series will take a look at what impact the 1998 Minnesota Legislature had on developing sustainable transportation systems.

Estate planning meetings set for April 2
"Planning For Your Family Lands" is the title of a free workshop sponsored by the Green Corridor Project April 2 in the Minnesota communities of North Branch and Stillwater. This is a workshop for landowners on the legal and financial tools available to help successfully pass land on to the next generation. It will feature Wisconsin attorney Bill O'Conner. The North Branch session is 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., and the workshop in Stillwater will be from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. RSVP is required, so call LSP at (612) 653-0618 if you are interested in attending.

UPDATE: Twin Cities

Green corridor takes root

By Michael Pressman

The Green Corridor Project is dedicated to helping residents of Washington and Chisago counties maintain and protect the beautiful countryside, farmland, and special natural areas that make them a great place to live. Green corridors are areas of open spaces that are linked together throughout the community. In addition to retaining important open spaces, green corridors protect water quality, maintain scenic and rural character, provide wildlife habitat, and help ensure that we have productive farms for future generations.

The Land Stewardship Project began working on this exciting initiative more than a year and a half ago. Joining LSP on the collaborative team are: Chisago County, Minnesota Farmers Union, Minnesota Land Trust, Rural Community Initiative, The Trust for Public Land and Washington County. The Green Corridor Project will link already protected lands with other important open spaces in Washington and Chisago Counties. Extensive input from local residents, public officials, and government agency staff will help shape the corridor's location and composition.

After initial preparation, work on the Green Corridor Project began full-force in July 1997. Since that time, the collaborative has begun an extensive public education campaign which to date has involved five large public forums with 250 attendees in Washington and Chisago Counties and education of more than 2,250 other Minnesotans through conferences, meetings and other venues. During the next six months, five more large forums are planned in the two project counties. In addition, six meetings are planned in metro counties outside of the project site.

By the time this project is finished, a total of 40 public meetings will be held within the project area and around the state. The Washington and Chisago County meetings will provide the collaborative an excellent opportunity to engage local residents in designing the project. The statewide meetings will be used to introduce new, incentive-based tools for land protection that can be applied in other communities as well.

To supplement the public's input, a Green Corridor Advisory Team has been created. This team involves more than a dozen people with specialized technical expertise. During the next six months, this team will help the collaborative develop "alternative scenario maps." These maps will be used as focal points for gathering input from local residents, elected officials and government staff about where the corridor should be located and what it will look like.

It has become clear thus far that certain land protection "tools" will be needed to make this corridor a reality. Extensive research regarding national models for land protection programs such as purchase of development rights (PDR) and transfer of development rights (TDR) has provided the collaborative with unique insights into how such tools can work in Minnesota. The collaborative is also preparing a survey of Washington and Chisago County residents to gauge public opinion about financing options for land protection.

Several exciting and informative new resources have been developed by the collaborative. Green Corridors: Open Spaces for Tomorrow is an 18-minute video produced by award-winning Blue Moon Productions. It discusses how communities can create green corridors using PDR, TDR, donated conservation easements and land acquisition. Our detailed handbook, Protecting Your Community's Natural Resources: A Land Protection Toolbox for Local Government, will be available by spring and will provide a step-by-step guide for implementing these land conservation strategies. We have also reprinted the highly popular Land Protection Options: A Handbook for Minnesota Landowners.

LSP is excited to be leading this new initiative and we are pleased with the overwhelmingly positive response it has received. Members of the Legislative Commission on Minnesota Resources made it clear in their appropriation that they view the Green Corridor Project as an important pilot project for the entire state. We at LSP also see it as another important way to demonstrate that there are win-win strategies which can help communities keep the landscape they love while accommodating growth.

Michael Pressman is Project Leader of the Green Corridor Project.

OPPORTUNITIES/RESOURCES

LSP releases 2 videos
The essence of two exciting Land Stewardship Project initiatives are now caught on video. Both programs were produced by award-winning Blue Moon, a Minneapolis-based production company that's worked on several LSP projects.

Green Corridor video
Green Corridors: Open Spaces for Tomorrow is an 18-minute video that discusses ways communities can protect the beautiful countryside, farmland and special natural areas that are being developed at a phenomenal rate in many regions. In an entertaining, easy-to-understand manner, it describes how citizens and organizations in Wisconsin, Maryland, Pennsylvania and California have used innovative land protection tools to preserve their special landscapes.

This video program is the first in a series of resources resulting from the Green Corridor Project. This initiative is an independent network of seven local public and private organizations working to protect land in Minnesota's Washington and Chisago counties. The members of the network are LSP, Chisago County, Minnesota Farmers Union, Minnesota Land Trust, Rural Community Initiative, The Trust for Public Land and Washington County.

The cost of Green Corridors: Open Spaces for Tomorrow is $12 (that includes postage and handling; Minnesota residents add 6.5 percent sales tax). Contact LSP's Twin Cities office to order this video.

Monitoring video
Close to the Ground is a 24-minute program that describes the workings of the Monitoring Project, a joint initiative of LSP and the Minnesota Institute for Sustainable Agriculture. The video shows how six farm families worked with scientists, economists, sociologists and government agency staffers to develop user-friendly indicators of sustainability on farmland. This project is known nationally for its unique integration of wildlife watching, soil testing, water analysis, quality of life analysis and gauging of finances to create a well-rounded method of measuring sustainability. The people involved in this project became lifelong friends and learned how to overcome the barriers that can stand between farmers and scientists/environmentalists/government officials. This video features outstanding footage of bird life and livestock production coexisting on some of Minnesota's most ruggedly beautiful farmland.

The cost of this video is $15 (13.50 for LSP members; Minnesota residents add 6.5 percent for sales tax). It can also be ordered from LSP's Twin Cities office.

CSA Directories Available
The 1998 edition of the Land Stewardship Project's Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) directory is now available. This popular booklet provides information on more than two dozen CSA operations in Minnesota and western Wisconsin. Memberships in these farms usually fill up by late winter or early spring, so it's important to sign up as soon as possible. For a free copy of the directory, contact: Gina Scanlon, LSP, 2200 4th St., White Bear Lake, MN 55110; tele.: (612) 653-0618; e-mail: lspwbl@landstewardshipproject.org.

For a listing of CSA farms in the north-central region of the U.S., call the Michael Fields Agricultural Institute at (414) 642-3303. The Bio-Dynamic Farming and Gardening Association (1-800-516-7797) has a national listing of CSA operations.

CSA festival April 19
Twin Cities residents interested in learning more about Community Supported Agriculture will have an opportunity at the Local Community Farm Festival, April 19 at Hamline University in St. Paul, Minn. The event will be from 1 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the Bush Student Center (corner of Hewitt & Snelling).

The festival will provide people an opportunity to meet local farmers who can provide produce, flowers and meat via the CSA model. It will also feature cooking demonstrations, activities for children and music.

For more information, contact Melinda Hooker at the Sustainable Resources Center's Urban Lands Program, (612) 872-3299.

BOOK REVIEW

The Sky, The Stars, The Wilderness
By Rick Bass
Houghton Mifflin Co., New York
1997
190 pages
$23.00

Reviewed by Pat Deninger

Rick Bass is an important American storyteller who weaves his love for the environment into all that he pens. If there was ever any doubt about that, The Sky, The Stars, The Wilderness buries it deep under layers of literary bedrock.

This trio of novellas introduces the reader to well-sketched characters who share one thing: An abiding passion for the land on which they've been raised. What separates them - and makes the anthology a great read - is how each has starkly different responses to their surroundings. This book is about our relationships to the "land" with a capital "L." And as Bass shows, the nature of such relationships can range the spectrum.

The first novella, "The Myth of Bears," is propelled by the fury of the male main character, Trapper, and his lifelong partner, Judith, who leaps out a window one snowy night to escape Trapper's growing lunacy. (He bars the door at night to keep from bolting from the cabin and joining the wolves baying in the distance at the moon).

It's the early part of the century, and the pair live in the Yukon as trappers. They've been together since they were teenagers in Arizona, yet his growing insanity forces her to leave and spend an entire winter outdoors in the virgin woods.

But it isn't a hardship; Judith is no victim, because she is as strong as he is (and in many ways, much stronger.) Trapper is enraged she would leave him and tracks her week after week. He knows she is growing stronger, bolder without him, but he must have her back.

The second novella, "Where the Sea Used to Be," introduces Wallis, a 28-year-old oil whiz kid and entrepreneur who can find gas and oil hidden deep below the surface of the Alabama valley he calls home. He does this by spotting telltale topographic features as he drives around in his truck or flies in his airplane, but also from a deeper longing that draws him to the past and the prehistoric ocean and beaches filled with the creatures that through the millenniums have been pressed into oil.

The best way to describe Wallis (and, truly, most of the characters in the anthology) is to cite the introductory quote Bass uses to introduce the final story. It's by Texas writer John Graves and his book, Self-Portrait with Birds:

"To grow up among tradition-minded people leads one often into backward yearnings and regrets to have [not] known the land when it was whole and sprawling and rich and fresh."

It's an interesting contrast between Trapper in his fury for the land and how Wallis is haunted by it. Wallis responds to a low, mournful siren call by feeling a vague emptiness and a compulsion to drive onward in search of success - of drilling wells for gas and oil, bringing the past to the surface. Or, perhaps, he wants to find the perfect hole so that he can fall into the past.

The title novella introduces the unnamed female protagonist who's unwavering in her belief in the power of learning from the land. She absorbs lessons about the environment by spending years running free with her brother through the forests.

The main character has a profound relationship with her mother, who dies when the girl is just eight. Still, the narrator "could feel her [mother's presence within her so strongly." As the main character grows, she wonders if her response to nature - "a scent, a sound, a sight" - is her own reaction or something her mother once experienced and passed along to her in an unknown, but very real, way." Her mother's death, she knows, is revealing to her at a young age nature's "growth and death that is a simultaneous braiding and unraveling."

Bass is a former geologist who has lived in northern Montana since 1987. From the beginning he has championed the preservation of the Yaak Valley wilderness there. In a 1996 speech at the University of California-Davis, he noted that his environmental activism "takes time away from art, but so does anxiety."

This statement sheds light on the one irritating undercurrent that drives these novellas. They're all deeply moving, passionately written, but occasionally suffer from a preachy activism.

At times, a reader senses Bass' message is thrust from his characters' mouths to make an environmental point. In other words, his environmentalism is taking time away from his art.

But that's quibbling: Overall, Bass has a wonderful ability not only to evoke a place, but fill it with people (or the ghosts of people) and show the connections among them all.

LSP member Pat Deninger lives in Trempealeau, Wis.

STEWARDSHIP CALENDAR

APRIL 1-2 - Holistic Management: A New Paradigm for Land-Use Planning, Kelly Inn, St. Paul, Minn.; Contact: Scott Elkins, LSP (612) 653-0618

APRIL 2 - Green Corridor workshop on passing land on to the next generation (see page 9), North Branch, Minn. (2 p.m.-4 p.m.); Stillwater, Minn. (7 p.m.-9 p.m.); Contact: Michael Pressman, LSP (612) 653-0618.

APRIL 9 - "Under the Sun: Managing Livestock Outdoors," a workshop sponsored by the Whole Farm Planning Team, (western Minnesota location to be announced); Contact: Audrey Arner, LSP (320) 269-2105

APRIL 18 - Sustainable Landscape Fair, 9 a.m.-4 p.m., Marshall School, 1215 Rice Lake Rd., Duluth, Minn.; Contact: Debbie Ortman (218) 726-1828 Discussion of Sweden's Planning & Building Act, which provides the tools for controlling sprawl, 2 p.m-4 p.m., American Swedish Institute, Minneapolis, Minn.; Contact: (612) 871-4907

APRIL 19 - Local Community Farm Festival, 1 p.m. to 5 p.m. Hamline University's Bush Student Center, St. Paul, Minn; Contact: Melinda Hooker, Sustainable Resources Center's Urban Lands Program, (612) 872-3299

APRIL 22 - Earth Day

APRIL 23 - "A Review of the 1998 Legislative Session: Making the land use/transportation connection," 7 p.m.-9 p.m., Rm. 317, Landmark Center, St. Paul, Minn.; Contact: Scott Elkins, LSP (612) 653-0618

APRIL 30 - Deadline for public comment on the National Organic Standards proposal

MAY 1 - Due date for USDA Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education grant applications; Contact: (402) 472-7081

MAY 2 - A discussion of the Detailed Development Planning Process Sweden uses to bring about ecologically sound development in small areas, 2 p.m.-4 p.m., American Swedish Institute, 2600 Park Ave., Minneapolis, Minn.; Contact: Jan McElfish (612) 871-4907

MAY 9-10 - Shepherd's Harvest Sheep & Wool Festival, Washington County Fairgrounds, Lake Elmo, Minn.; Contact: Pat Ryan (612) 459-8554

MAY 16 - Clean Up our River Environment (CURE) Spring Observation Trip on the Minnesota River; Contact: LSP (320) 269-2105

JUNE 3-6 - Who Owns America? II: How Land & Natural Resources are Owned & Controlled; Madison, Wis.; Contact: Gene Summers, North American Program of the Land Tenure Center, (608) 262-2141; e-mail: ltc-nap@facstaff.wisc.edu

JULY 19-22 - Animal Production Systems & the Environment: An International Conference on Odor, Water Quality, Nutrient Management & Socioeconomic Issues, Des Moines, Iowa; Contact: Kay Snyder (515) 294-4202

JULY 25 - Take Your Farm to School With the Biodynamic Method, Part III, Michael Fields Agricultural Institute, East Troy, Wis.; Contact: (414) 642-3303

SEPT. 20 - Annual Clean Up our River Environment (CURE) Minnesota River Revival, Watson Sag, Watson, Minn.; Contact: LSP (320) 269-2105

OCT. 4-7 - North American Conference on Enterprise Development Through Agroforestry: Farming the Forest & Agroforest for Specialty Products, Minneapolis, Minn.; Contact: Scott Josiah (612) 624-7418

DEC. 10-12 - Acres U.S.A. Annual Eco-Agriculture Conference, Minneapolis, Minn.; Contact: 1-800-355-5313 Check the Calendar for the latest on upcoming LSP events.

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