© 2010 Joshua Stark
Though I grew up rural, I never got into 4-H. We didn't have land, and we were never an animal-husbandry type family.
As an adult, however, I've become very interested in the agrarian life, and how it can apply to my own condition (if you are interested in reading about my semi-urban homesteading attempts, please read my other blog, Agrarianista). Most recently, I applied for (and I believe, subsequently did not get) a position with the Sacramento County 4-H.
I was interested in all the work they've done providing experiences to young people, and in researching today's 4-H, I was very impressed with the types of activities and roles they offer kids from pre-school through high school. 4-H focuses on getting kids to "learn by doing", a model for teaching that is dear to my heart, and also an effective pedagogy. Today, 4-H works to get to urban youth as well as rural kids, with programs that give children the opportunity to practice environmental sciences and sleep out under the stars, as well as learn agricultural and homesteading skills.
Of course, I am especially impressed with the 4-H Shooting Sports category. I've been interested in getting young people involved in shooting, but without the politics associated with the groups who offer such services, and 4-H offers just that: the opportunity to teach kids how to shoot and how to interact with the outdoors (both the wild and the farmland), while giving them the breathing room to enjoy the experiences.
If you are interested in passing on your knowledge about the wild, about farming and food, about the interconnectedness of the urban, rural, and wild places, then contact your local 4-H and volunteer today.
http://www.4-h.org/
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
A Successful Outing - Young 'uns in the field.
© 2010 Joshua Stark
Yesterday afternoon, we came home from a 3 1/2 day camping trip into the Sierra Nevada.
It'd be nice to say that we hiked back 20 miles or so into some roadless area where we lived off the land, picked berries and tubers, killed the great Hart, caught fish, or some such thing. The truth is, however, that we drove up to the last vacant site in a campground of 80 spots, amid hundreds of people and next to a reservoir. But I do not apologize.
My plans always start bigger than they wind up (ask any number of my hunting and fishing companions), and this trip proved no exception. We were expecting upwards of 20 people to join us for a few days of hiking, berry-picking, perhaps crawdadding, and definitely fishing, fishing, and fishing. But slowly, people backed out, all for very good reasons, of course, and we were down to two days of 5 1/2 of us, and two days with three more folks.
The days were hot, too: I'm sure we broke 100 on at least one of them. And the neighbors were up pretty late and up pretty early. And the reservoir was full of motor boats and jet skis.
But not in our neck of the woods. Where we landed, we had a wonderful little inlet that had a few people, but almost zero encounters with fast boaters. We launched our kayak and canoe, toted around a blow-up turtle (as opposed to an exploding turtle), and splashed in the water the first day.
The evening of the second day, my nephew and I took to the woods stumpshooting. For those of you who aren't lucky enough to use a bow and arrow, stumpshooting is when you walk through the forest, slowly and quietly (or not so slowly and a little bit loud, but not screaming and running), and sneak up on and shoot wily critters like pinecones and sticks. Stumps can break arrows, so we don't really shoot at those... I'm guessing the term was coined by wealthier folks than we.
We walked, and talked, and watched the stream higher than I'd ever seen it in July. We vowed we'd return the next day with the whole family. We also had a run-in with a hawk of some kind (it kills me that I don't know what kind of hawk it was) chasing a baby bird, the momma screaming and right on its heels. The three of them went careening through the woods, and we had to duck to avoid being hit - the hawk barely banked to its left, the baby bird to its right. They flew on through the forest, but since we almost instantly heard no more screaming from the momma bird, we figured the baby had gotten away. While neither of us could help feeling relieved, I also explained to my nephew that the hawk may be trying to feed its own little ones. He responded, after some thought, that "it's both good and bad."
The next day, we all trekked back to the stream and swam it. There was a fast current in the middle of a fine pool, and my nephew swam it bravely, (which means with trepidation, but doing it anyway because he felt he should, not because we goaded him - we aren't like that). Other family arrived, and we had a great time at the pool. At one point, a niece fell in the water (she was okay), and our 11-year old dog, Irma, jumped in to save her - a remarkable feat, since she absolutely detests swimming, and the water was cold. If you've never owned a dog, I might venture to say that you've never known pure, unconditional love.
The berries weren't ripe. We didn't drop a crawdad trap. We fished maybe ten minutes, tops. No rabbits for the pot. Deer season was a month away. And yet, this was one of the greatest camping trips I've ever had. Loving family was there, there were adventures aplenty, the food was great, and I got to watch my 3-year old daughter show little fear of anything other than boats and band-aids. She climbed up and down rocks all day, she watched bugs, she asked about bird calls (a red-breasted nuthatch).
What an amazing time.
If you ever get a chance to get out with kids into the woods, even if they are a little crowded with other folks, do it - for them, and for you.
And now, I'll leave you with a little video I took on a tree next to our campsite. I think it's fitting with the theme:
Yesterday afternoon, we came home from a 3 1/2 day camping trip into the Sierra Nevada.
It'd be nice to say that we hiked back 20 miles or so into some roadless area where we lived off the land, picked berries and tubers, killed the great Hart, caught fish, or some such thing. The truth is, however, that we drove up to the last vacant site in a campground of 80 spots, amid hundreds of people and next to a reservoir. But I do not apologize.
My plans always start bigger than they wind up (ask any number of my hunting and fishing companions), and this trip proved no exception. We were expecting upwards of 20 people to join us for a few days of hiking, berry-picking, perhaps crawdadding, and definitely fishing, fishing, and fishing. But slowly, people backed out, all for very good reasons, of course, and we were down to two days of 5 1/2 of us, and two days with three more folks.
The days were hot, too: I'm sure we broke 100 on at least one of them. And the neighbors were up pretty late and up pretty early. And the reservoir was full of motor boats and jet skis.
But not in our neck of the woods. Where we landed, we had a wonderful little inlet that had a few people, but almost zero encounters with fast boaters. We launched our kayak and canoe, toted around a blow-up turtle (as opposed to an exploding turtle), and splashed in the water the first day.
The evening of the second day, my nephew and I took to the woods stumpshooting. For those of you who aren't lucky enough to use a bow and arrow, stumpshooting is when you walk through the forest, slowly and quietly (or not so slowly and a little bit loud, but not screaming and running), and sneak up on and shoot wily critters like pinecones and sticks. Stumps can break arrows, so we don't really shoot at those... I'm guessing the term was coined by wealthier folks than we.
We walked, and talked, and watched the stream higher than I'd ever seen it in July. We vowed we'd return the next day with the whole family. We also had a run-in with a hawk of some kind (it kills me that I don't know what kind of hawk it was) chasing a baby bird, the momma screaming and right on its heels. The three of them went careening through the woods, and we had to duck to avoid being hit - the hawk barely banked to its left, the baby bird to its right. They flew on through the forest, but since we almost instantly heard no more screaming from the momma bird, we figured the baby had gotten away. While neither of us could help feeling relieved, I also explained to my nephew that the hawk may be trying to feed its own little ones. He responded, after some thought, that "it's both good and bad."
The next day, we all trekked back to the stream and swam it. There was a fast current in the middle of a fine pool, and my nephew swam it bravely, (which means with trepidation, but doing it anyway because he felt he should, not because we goaded him - we aren't like that). Other family arrived, and we had a great time at the pool. At one point, a niece fell in the water (she was okay), and our 11-year old dog, Irma, jumped in to save her - a remarkable feat, since she absolutely detests swimming, and the water was cold. If you've never owned a dog, I might venture to say that you've never known pure, unconditional love.
The berries weren't ripe. We didn't drop a crawdad trap. We fished maybe ten minutes, tops. No rabbits for the pot. Deer season was a month away. And yet, this was one of the greatest camping trips I've ever had. Loving family was there, there were adventures aplenty, the food was great, and I got to watch my 3-year old daughter show little fear of anything other than boats and band-aids. She climbed up and down rocks all day, she watched bugs, she asked about bird calls (a red-breasted nuthatch).
What an amazing time.
If you ever get a chance to get out with kids into the woods, even if they are a little crowded with other folks, do it - for them, and for you.
And now, I'll leave you with a little video I took on a tree next to our campsite. I think it's fitting with the theme:
Monday, January 11, 2010
Undue influence in your public education, and then some good news
© 2010 Joshua Stark
The Fresno Bee reports on an issue that won't die, the appearance of improper pressure by Harris Ranch on Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo.
It appears that the managers of Harris Ranch think that their additional funds entitle them to pressure faculty through the administration, and to influence (or decide) who gets to speak at the campus and under what format.
flx1247rg
Last year, the company sent the university a letter in which it threatened to withdraw its $500k grant when it heard that renowned author (and UC professor) Michael Pollan was going to speak. Pollan's attacks on grain-fed CAFO (centralized animal feeding operations) models for agriculture are well-known, as is his support for small, multicrop farms over large, monoculture ranches (and if you haven't read "Omnivore's Dilemma", please do!).
It's no surprise that Harris Ranch would be mad about these topics and perspectives, and so it's no real surprise that they also criticized a Cal Poly faculty member, Prof. Rutherford, for his similar views.
Yeah, none of it is a surprise. But, contrary to what news media might want you to believe, you shouldn't have to be surprised to be outraged or disgusted.
Had this happened to a private university, I'd still be mad, but I wouldn't feel a personal affront. However, my taxes go to pay for this university, and I'm willing to bet that many Californians pay the same percentage of total income as Harris Ranch to our public institutions.
On a related note, and having received no funding from Harris Ranch (or you all, for that matter), I'd like to link to a great article in this month's Mother Earth Magazine (they haven't paid me, either) on the benefits and potential for grass-fed beef. Here's the quotation that stood out to me:
"Churchill says that on properly recovered land, he can finish about two steers per acre. That is almost precisely the acreage it takes to grow the grain to finish those same steers in a feedlot. This whole system makes economic sense, acre by acre."
What?! That's tremendous news, a happy surprise, and flies in the face of what we've been told in recent decades about the efficiencies of feedlots. And, when you add to this concept the idea that grass requires lower feed costs, far fewer antibiotics and vet. care, and much less transportation and processing, plus native habitat restoration, there really is no reason to stay on the grain-fed path.
And you can now add to the costs of feedlots the undue pressure that they put on our universities.
The Fresno Bee reports on an issue that won't die, the appearance of improper pressure by Harris Ranch on Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo.
It appears that the managers of Harris Ranch think that their additional funds entitle them to pressure faculty through the administration, and to influence (or decide) who gets to speak at the campus and under what format.
flx1247rg
Last year, the company sent the university a letter in which it threatened to withdraw its $500k grant when it heard that renowned author (and UC professor) Michael Pollan was going to speak. Pollan's attacks on grain-fed CAFO (centralized animal feeding operations) models for agriculture are well-known, as is his support for small, multicrop farms over large, monoculture ranches (and if you haven't read "Omnivore's Dilemma", please do!).
It's no surprise that Harris Ranch would be mad about these topics and perspectives, and so it's no real surprise that they also criticized a Cal Poly faculty member, Prof. Rutherford, for his similar views.
Yeah, none of it is a surprise. But, contrary to what news media might want you to believe, you shouldn't have to be surprised to be outraged or disgusted.
Had this happened to a private university, I'd still be mad, but I wouldn't feel a personal affront. However, my taxes go to pay for this university, and I'm willing to bet that many Californians pay the same percentage of total income as Harris Ranch to our public institutions.
On a related note, and having received no funding from Harris Ranch (or you all, for that matter), I'd like to link to a great article in this month's Mother Earth Magazine (they haven't paid me, either) on the benefits and potential for grass-fed beef. Here's the quotation that stood out to me:
"Churchill says that on properly recovered land, he can finish about two steers per acre. That is almost precisely the acreage it takes to grow the grain to finish those same steers in a feedlot. This whole system makes economic sense, acre by acre."
What?! That's tremendous news, a happy surprise, and flies in the face of what we've been told in recent decades about the efficiencies of feedlots. And, when you add to this concept the idea that grass requires lower feed costs, far fewer antibiotics and vet. care, and much less transportation and processing, plus native habitat restoration, there really is no reason to stay on the grain-fed path.
And you can now add to the costs of feedlots the undue pressure that they put on our universities.
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