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• <br />I spent my young years with relatives along the shores of Peltier Lake. There <br />were endless opportunities for adventures and exploration. We had an inventory of leaky <br />duck boats left behind by fall hunters who used my grandfather's pasture, near the lake, <br />for access to the birds migrating over the Rice Creek Water Chain. <br />During my wildlife biology days, I would row out to the bogs and collect cattail <br />roots, to make tasty bread from the cattail root flour, and arrowhead tubers, to make salad <br />very much like potato salad. <br />In the spring we would row around Peltier Island and sit quietly listening to the <br />loud chattering of the herons and egrets nesting on the north end of the lake. These large <br />birds would fly over us, casting shadows that we pretended were from prehistoric birds. <br />The birds would come and go as we coasted through the open water that cut through the <br />bog behind the island. <br />We often saw a stately heron standing intently, spearing up a fish and managing it <br />down, only to carry it back to the nest and regurgitate it to feed their new hatchlings. <br />These shy, large birds were the natural residents of spring and summer along the <br />lake. In the hot, humid evenings, when we ourselves would fish and swat mosquitoes, we <br />commonly saw a heron standing near the cold springs capturing frogs and bullheads. <br />Quiet allowed us to share location, quiet allowed us to hear, see, and appreciate the <br />wonder of these large majestic birds. <br />My nearest human neighbors lived a half -mile away. In the winter we ice - skated <br />on the lake, sometimes all day, and I don't recall being cold, though this was before <br />gortex and thinsulate. <br />We would explore on Peltier Island and stare up at the empty heron nests, <br />hundreds of them, high in the trees with stark blue sky peaking through the twig <br />weavings. We knew that with the ice break up, the birds would return and undertake <br />home repairing and another nesting season would begin. <br />And so it has been until the early 2000's when pressures of area development, <br />road reconstruction noise, and human invasion near and on Peltier Island, created a <br />combination of stresses that challenged the normal cycle of the rookery birds. <br />Perhaps the most significant change was when some residents established a water <br />skiing slalom course across the shallow north end of the lake. The birds began <br />abandoning their nests, leaving their chicks to die around Memorial Day and into June. <br />Local residents are now engaged with the Cities of Lino Lakes and Centerville to <br />establish a permanent no wake zone that would protect the island from high speed motor <br />boat noise, which disturbs the herons, and would prevent turbulence that disrupts natural <br />flora and plants that serve as a filter for the lake. <br />