The Song of the Hills - A Journal Reflection of the 2009 Loess Hills Prairie Seminar

If mountains shout for attention, then the Loess Hills sing.  The
rounded summits hum their story to those who take time to listen.

However, many travelers on Interstate 29 glance to the east and
probably feel that tug of peace that might go unregistered.  Perhaps
they reflect on the name of the landform and wonder how to pronounce
that mysterious word, “loess”. These folks don’t take the time to
listen to the song.

For those of us at the Loess Hills Seminar, we dance to the music.
The song that the hills hum moves us to yearn for more.

Throughout the three day seminar, presenters expressed their devotion
with information, plans, and music.  The 200 to 300 participants
learned, laughed and visited with “like-minded” people. And always,
the hills provided the background music that transports the soul.

At the high school on Friday night, the intellect was tickled with
presentations.  From updates to a report on the need to diagnose the
unhealthy state of the Missouri River, the evening set the stage for
the music to come.

Exhibits, vendors and silent auction items enriched minds as
registered participants left the high school for the hills.

Driving towards the hills that evening, the hum grew into a chorus
with a refrain that rang with the need to protect these gentle giants.
The stage was set for more verses.

The evening was resplendent with stars, laughter, and good tidings.
Lightning danced around the fringes of the sky but didn’t dare
interrupt camaraderie.  It was only after participants were safely
tucked into their sleeping bags that it brought a gentle rain to
refresh the vegetation and animal life.

The morning sun dazzled the horizon as sleepy campers collected their
binoculars in order to meet the music-makers in the tree tops.  Twenty
different species of birds quickly adorned birders' checklists.

Breakfast was hearty and merry.  Afterwards, we chose “verses” from a
list of breakout sessions.  After each verse, I hummed the refrain
that spoke of the need to protect these gentle giants.

The hills sang to me loudly while we “unraveled prairie mysteries”
with Bill Pusateri.  As we climbed, we left behind the nonnative
species such as brome grass and entered the realm of cut-leaf ironplant,
leadplant, skeleton weed, Indian grass, side oats grama, and New
Jersey tea.  The drifts of loess provide an ecosystem that is unlike
any other in the Midwest - moist on the east side and arid on the west.
This contrast lifts up the uniqueness of the landform in which we
celebrate.

After the refrain, I enjoyed “Reptiles and Amphibians of the Loess
Hills Area” by Carol Schwarting and her daughter, Nancy.  Love was
evident as they introduced us to fascinating frogs, turtles, snakes,
and lizards.  This verse reminded me of the higher level individuals
attain then they empathize with our animal kingdom.

After a delightful lunch, I attended an “Environmental and Science
Writing” session by Nancy Gruden.  This thought-provoking session
prompted me to reflect on the difference between mountains that shout
and hills that sing.

Dinner at the high school was a cheerful affair which ushered in our
evening of lectures by William Whitney, Steve Holland, and Bill Zales. 
I thought the evening crescendoed with Ron Cisar and his songs that
soared.  Music danced in my heart as I climbed into my sleeping bag
that night.

Morning dawned bright again on Sunday.  Breakfast and gospel music
started our day well.  I chose “European Immigration to the Loess
Hills” by Ron Butler as my final verse.  My respect for the hills
heightened my desire to learn of the caretakers of this unique place.
According to Ron, area farmers worked hard to scratch out a living
from the loess.  However, respect for the land permeates the area.

Kay Neumann added zip and zeal to the end of the seminar as she
informed us of her birds.  Releasing the red-tailed hawk symbolized to
me the winning effort to give back to the hills thus returning me to
my refrain “protect these gentle giants.”

Sighing a good-bye, we left the seminar renewed by nature and
strengthened by the gentle memories of a beautiful song.

May the hills always sing to those who listen and may more ears tune
into that song.