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Returning Good Fire to the Land

/ mariezhuikov / 17 Comments
A fire crew member monitors the Nov 2025 cultural prescribed burn on Wisconsin Point.

A story of mine appeared in the April/May 2026 issue of Lake Superior Magazine. It covers a project I’m involved with that’s designed to bring back the Ojibwe tradition of prescribed burning on Wisconsin Point, a long sandspit on Lake Superior. The Ojibwe once lived in the red and white pine woods there until they were moved to reservations in the mid-1800s. Before then, they would set small, controlled fires to keep brush down, encourage plants like blueberries, and help red pines sprout. They call these fires “Ishkode,” or good fire.

I first heard about this practice a few years ago while I was still working as a science communicator for Wisconsin Sea Grant. The organization funded research that studied tree rings and fire scars on Wisconsin Point and its neighboring sandspit, Minnesota Point. I reported on the project by writing articles, news releases, and producing a podcast.

Last year, a few months before I retired, I heard that the Ishkode group was looking for help with communications. I immediately volunteered, and you can read about the results in my article. I’m happy to say that last fall, Ishkode successfully returned to the point for the first time in 159 years. And nobody got hurt! More patchwork burns are planned in the future.

As a result, I was approached by a different group that’s working to bring Ojibwe fire practices back to Minnesota Point. Although the two points are separated by a short span of water, they are different politically and socially. Not only are they in different states, but Wisconsin Point is uninhabited, whereas more than 100 homes line Minnesota Point, many of which are beachfront mansions. Wisconsin Point is owned by the City of Superior and the Fond du Lac Tribe. Minnesota Point is a mix of private, city, and state Department of Natural Resources property. There’s even an airport near the end of it.

Both fire projects are led by Fond du Lac tribal members. Except for those folks and me, most of the rest of the people involved in each project are different. Because of its complexity, the Minnesota Point group is much larger (about 40 people). I began helping them this winter and finally have everyone’s names and affiliations down.

Our goal is to conduct a prescribed burn on Minnesota Point this spring. It will be the first time in 180 years that a burn has occurred there. Things are falling into place nicely, and so far, public reception has been good.

I’m happy to have a hand in returning a missing piece of the ecosystem to the shores of Lake Superior. As one of our group members said, the burns will help the choked forests breathe again. These points aren’t the only places where the Ojibwe used to burn. Evidence can be found all around the lake.

For more information, check out my article in the print version of the magazine, or check the Wisconsin Point Ishkode webpage.

Smoke from the prescribed fire drifts through the pines on Wisconsin Point. The fire will help the beleaguered red pine population regenerate.

Pancakes, Anyone?

/ mariezhuikov / 14 Comments
Each of these ice pancakes is about three feet across.

Winter is loosening its cold, hard grip on Lake Superior. One sure sign of spring is pancake ice. Sorry for the misleading title—these pancakes are not edible. But I suppose they are, if you like chewing ice.

Pancake ice on Lake Superior with Duluth’s iconic aerial lift bridge in the distance.

Pancake ice can form in early winter, too, but in spring it occurs when the ice begins to melt and waves or wind blow the ice chunks around. The wind whistles over the lake, carrying the crisp scent of melting ice and the freshness of open water. The ice chunks slap against each other like bumper cars at a fairground. The pancakes form circles with ridges along the sides, their surfaces glistening under the pale, watery sunlight. Pancake ice can also form on open water when it gets cold and ice crystals freeze and then break up and are blown around. This phenomenon can also occur on rivers and in the ocean.

Sometimes the rotating, colliding ice makes sounds, but I didn’t hear any during Russ’s and my walk along Lake Superior’s shore the other day when I took these photos. Instead, there was only the whisper of our boots on the asphalt trail, and the restless sigh of the breeze—sharp enough to sting cheeks and make eyes water.

This year, Lake Superior experienced 27% ice cover. The last time the lake came close to being completely frozen was 2019. The long-term average is 61.5% ice cover, and I assume that average is going down as the climate changes.

During our walk, other signs of warming weather in Duluth were the white legs of everyone who wore shorts for the first time since October. Mind you, it was only 44 degrees F with a cold northeast breeze, but people are so desperate for spring that shorts seemed like a good idea! I even saw a bare-chested man wearing shorts, his skin turning pink in the biting wind. I was not so inclined. In fact, I had to raise the hood on my jacket and cinch it tightly around my face, feeling the rough fabric press against my cheeks as I tried to shield myself from the breeze once we turned around and headed back to our car.

But the pancakes and white legs are here on Lake Superior. Spring can’t be far behind.

On the Dunes

/ mariezhuikov / 17 Comments
Ice off of Minnesota Point in Duluth. Each of those slabs in the foreground is the size of a person lying down. The ridge behind it is about fifteen feet tall. (I popped a squat to obtain this viewpoint.)

On the Dunes
By Sara Teasdale

If there is any life when death is over,
   These tawny beaches will know much of me,
I shall come back, as constant and changeful
   As the unchanging, many-colored sea.

If life was small, if it has made me scornful,
   Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame
In the great calm of death, and if you want me
   Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.

I recently stumbled upon this poem while leafing through a stack of old, yellowed pages—poems I had once painstakingly typed on a clattering Underwood typewriter during my high school days. Back then, before the convenience of photocopiers, I’d wander the library aisles, selecting poetry books that called to me. I would borrow them, then sit for hours, as I copied lines that stirred my soul. I imagined that I’d refer to these pages often, though, they have gathered more dust than fingerprints. Now, rereading them, I’m flooded with nostalgia, peering through a window into what once moved my younger heart.

Poet Sara Teasdale lived from 1884 to 1933. She is characterized as “neurotically intense,” and it’s said she moved in the company of poets like a “recessive flame.” She had a tempestuous affair with poet Vachel Lindsay. Later, she married a businessman but then divorced him, retired to seclusion, and in the end, died from an overdose of sleeping pills.

Her poem struck me because I’d just meandered to the beach in Duluth with Russ. If you’re not familiar, we are blessed with a long sandbar at the mouth of Lake Superior. Of course, the beach was snow-covered. The lake’s power was on full display in the form of huge piles of ice piled high about ten yards offshore. I had my phone with me and was tempted to brave the ice to take some photos, but I hesitated, not knowing if the ice was safe. I am well acquainted with the vagaries and dangers of this Great Lake.

However, two other people walked out to an ice ridge in front of me. They survived, so I figured I’d be okay if I followed in their footsteps. I ventured out, and these photos are the result. I was glad I braved the ice to share them with you! Russ wisely remained onshore. I’m also glad that the little adventure didn’t hasten my death so that Russ would need to stand on the dunes and call my name when he wants me. 😊

Seeing Red

/ mariezhuikov / 19 Comments

Here’s yet another side detour from my New England travelog. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to it!

The other night Russ and I meandered around the backroads north of Duluth, joining many others who parked their cars in random spots and looked up to the spectacle happening in the sky.

That spectacle was the northern lights. I took these photos the second night of the show at about 8:30 p.m. It was so kind of the aurora to happen before bedtime! We found a spot on a gravel road where we could see a whitish curtain of aurora on the horizon. We first stopped at a town hall but there were too many lights, so we went back down the road until we found a dark area. I took a few test shots with my phone camera and wowza! Jackpot.

A green curtain filled the sky, with some red overtones. As the lights continued to dance, the red intensified. This color is rare in auroras.

Here’s an explanation from a local astronomer, Astro Bob (King). I don’t totally understand it, but here’s what he said about that storm:

Red aurora occurs high up in the atmosphere at an altitude of around 150-300 miles. Green emission happens at lower altitudes, around 75 miles. Both are produced when incoming charged particles strike and energize oxygen atoms. After the impacts, the atoms release that energy in the form of green and red light when they return to their original relaxed state.

At high altitude, the number of atoms drops sharply — it’s basically a hard vacuum up there. After it’s struck by a charged particle, an oxygen atom needs almost two minutes to release that energy. If a neighboring atom were to bump into it during the transition, it would short-circuit the process. But because there are so few atoms at that altitude, oxygen has time to release red light before a collision occurs.

There’s so little oxygen to begin with at high altitude, a strong storm is required to crank up enough oxygen atoms to produce the red aurora. Seeing red is a good sign that a significant storm is underway. Overall, the Nov. 11 storm reached the G4 (severe) level, with aurora reported in all 50 states (including Hawaii) and as far south as the tropics.

A farm house and barn stood off to the side and provided more visual interest to the shots. Eventually, the cold got the better of us and we crawled back into our car to return to our modest home filled with artificial light.

Flipping Fishing on its Head

/ mariezhuikov / 17 Comments

A new sport has reached the shores of Lake Superior. It’s called microfishing. Think birdwatching, but with tiny fish. Quite a change from trying to catch the largest possible fish!

You can read all about it if you’re a subscriber to Lake Superior Magazine. My story is in the October/November 2025 issue. I learned about this unique sport when I interviewed a local department of natural resources fisheries biologist for a different story. Once I retired, I had time to pursue a magazine story. The sport is practiced all over the world.

If you’re not a magazine subscriber and want to learn more, visit microfishing.com.

A Fall Bike Ride

/ mariezhuikov / 21 Comments

Last month, Russ and I continued our quest to cycle different sections of the Mesabi Trail, which crosses northern Minnesota’s Iron Range. Amid the crunch of fallen leaves and the brilliant red of sumac, we biked from Nashwuak to Calumet with a side trip to Pengilly.

A warm breeze offered one of those final temperate days between summer and fall. The trail began in Nashwauk at a nondescript parking lot near a closed restaurant with the suggestive name of Big O’s Chef House. (Maybe that’s why it went out of business?) Except for a few frost heaves, the mostly flat trail was in good condition. It parallels the highway ,so the distant noise of cars is ever-present.

Much of the land surrounding the trail is owned by Mesabi Metallics Co., an iron ore and taconite mining company. We passed huge piles of mine tailing waste and overgrown past mining roads as a few vultures circled overhead.

In the sleepy Sunday town of Calumet, we rested at a public picnic shelter. The only evidence of life was a man throwing a ball for his black lab. Then we turned around and made our way back to Nashwauk. Along the way, we took a short spur trail to the town of Pengilly just for a change of scenery.

Scenery along the trail.

Once, a pair of teenagers on an ATV surprised us (they’re not supposed to go on the trail). Several times, we had to dodge Halloween-colored (black and orange) woolly bear caterpillars inching their way across the trail. Folklore says they can predict how harsh the winter will be by the width of the colored bands on their bodies: more black equals a harsher winter. We were trying too hard not to squish these fuzzy forecasters, so we didn’t notice their band patterns.

Apparently, science has not confirmed the caterpillars’ weather-forecasting abilities. Even so, the woolly bear remains a symbol of autumn. Its presence offered us a gentle reminder that the season is turning, and nature is preparing for the quiet, cold months ahead. This will probably be our last long ride of the season.

Total distance: 14 miles. For more information about other sections of the trail, please see these previous posts:

Bicycling from Keewatin to Nashwauk

Biking the Mesabi Trail from Ely West

The Mesabi Bike Trail from Mt. Iron to Kinney, MN

Biking the Mesabi Trail from Hibbing to Chisholm

Biking Along the Giant’s Ridge

Biking Across Minnesota’s Tallest Bridge

Jane Goodall

/ mariezhuikov / 19 Comments
Jane Goodall
Story from the Minnesota Daily, May 7, 1986, page 1.

You may have heard that chimpanzee researcher Jane Goodall died recently. As a young college environmental reporter, I had the chance to meet her once. Here’s a story that I posted in my blog previously and included in my Meander North book. Not only was Goodall a great scientist and advocate for nature, she was a wonderful human being.

Here’s a link to my story: https://mariezwrites.com/2014/09/23/how-i-got-jane-goodall-to-stick-her-head-in-a-potted-palm-tree/.

We’ll miss you, Jane!

New Book Project!

/ mariezhuikov / 24 Comments

With all the noise in the blogosphere, no one’s probably noticed that I’ve been quieter than usual lately. That’s because I’m working on another book manuscript. This time it’s poetry. I’ve had poems published here and there but never a book of my own. So, I decided to compile my life’s work of poems—yet another good retirement project.

I finished the manuscript last week and sent it off to a local publisher. I decided to choose this publisher because they exist solely to help poets in our area with projects like this, the turn-around is quick, I’ll get to keep the profits, and have control over the final manuscript.

Two days later, I received a “yes”! Now I’m working on fine-tuning the manuscript and getting marketing blurbs ready. Here’s what I have so far:

High Fire Danger: Poems of Love and Nature

Me years ago on a firefighting assignment in Yosemite. I’m smiling behind my bandana.

In High Fire Danger, Marie Zhuikov meditates on the transformative power of love and the magic and menace of nature. Written over the past thirty-eight years, Zhuikov’s enchanting poems offer unique insights and cutting humor. They take readers from her home in Minnesota to far-flung locales across the Great Lakes, Canada, Scotland, the Caribbean, and even to another planet. These accessible poems are filled with the heat and longing of romantic love, but also a deep love for family, community, and nature. They’ll scorch your soul like wildfire.

In a few months, I hope to have this book out into the world! For info about my other fiction and nonfiction books, please visit my book page.

Northern Lights and Lightning Bugs

/ mariezhuikov / 35 Comments

A rare show lit up the sky above our cabin last night. Russ and I meandered down roads in the dark, feeling our way by the gravel crunching under our shoes. We made it to a bog that has a good view north.

As the aurora silently danced above in curtains of reds and greens, lightning bugs danced closer to the ground, their feeble white lights the last of summer.

If you’d like to see my photo page with lots of other images (organized by topic: water/wood/stone/sky/travel and lighthouses) please visit my photography page and choose a topic: https://mariezwrites.com/photography/.

Making Puffed Wild Rice (and Donuts)

/ mariezhuikov / 16 Comments
A hearty bowl of puffed wild rice.

Wild rice, the kind of rice native to the Great Lakes and other parts of North America, is not only delicious in soups and other dishes, it makes a great and healthy snack.

A few years ago, I was gifted a copy of The Good Berry Cookbook by Tashia Hart. The author is a member of the Red Lake Anishinaabe (northern Minnesota) and she’s a culinary ethnobotanist, artist, photographer, writer, and cook. The book is more than a cookbook. It’s everything you ever wanted to know about wild rice.

A wild rice triple chocolate donut. Doesn’t it look tasty?

I’ve made several recipes from the book, notably, one for wild rice chocolate donuts (Triple Chocolate Donuts). As someone who’s always on the lookout for alternatives to wheat and corn, I was attracted by this recipe. They turned out looking great but were a bit gritty. Maybe I didn’t grind the rice into flour as fine as I should have. Since then, I’ve found other wheat- and corn-free recipes I like better.

This weekend, I went to a Harvest Festival in Duluth, which features produce from local farmers and artisans. One booth offered puffed wild rice in several flavors (for instance, cheese pizza!) I tried a sample of salted rice puffs. They were very good. Done this way, the wild rice tastes almost like popcorn, but with a richer, nuttier flavor. I would have bought some, but the vendor used popcorn salt, which usually contains cornstarch, so I passed.

Seeing the puffed wild rice reminded me that the Good Berry cookbook had a recipe for it, so when I returned home, I made some. It requires wild rice that has been picked and parched in a traditional manner. This makes it a lighter color (dull brown) versus the paddy-grown wild rice, which is dark and shiny.

All you do is heat a few inches of oil (I used canola) in a pan at a high temperature. I used setting 7 out of 9 on my stovetop. Wait until the oil is good and hot, then place a small amount of wild rice in a sieve (2-3 tablespoons) and lower it into the oil. It should puff up quickly if the oil is hot enough. Then spread the rice on a plate lined with paper towels to drain. I seasoned mine with sea salt (which usually contains no cornstarch).

If you’ve ever had puffed wheat cereal, you’ll recognize puffed wild rice, although the rice kernels are smaller and skinnier. It tasted great!

Marie tries her hand at harvesting wild rice, St. Louis River, MN.

Russ has developed the habit of eating popcorn in the evenings, which is sort of torture for me because I can’t have it. (Do you think he’s doing this on purpose??) Now, I have an alternative.

Tashia also offers a recipe for wild rice chocolates. Basically, you take the puffed wild rice and pour melted chocolate chips over them. I have some leftover puffed wild rice. That’s next on my list!

For a story about my “immersive” experience harvesting wild rice, visit this link.

Update: 9/10/25

I made the puffed wild rice chocolates. Very good! The recipe calls for making them in a flat sheet, but I chose to clump them instead. They taste rather like a Nestle crunch bar.