Seize the Carp!
by Drew YoungeDyke

Most anglers now know not to wear felt-soled waders. We've hung them up in favor of rubber soles because we don't want to transfer organisms from one watershed to another where they don't belong. I really loved my felt-soled Cabela' s waders; they were passed down from my grandpa and worked great. Occasionally they sprung a leak and I sealed the offending seam, but then I learned about how aquatic nuisance species can hitch a ride in the felt and end up in the wrong stream. So, I bought rubber-soled waders which were a little stiff and didn't grip as well, so I have to wade a little more carefully. It's worth it, though, to know that I'm not harming the waters I love. 

I know I'm burying the lead here, but I mentioned my old waders because there is a much more serious watershed transfer threatening the entire Great Lakes, and we, as a nation,  haven't yet traded in our old waders. Asian carp have been moving up the Mississippi River since they escaped from southern fish farms in the early 90's, and now they're poised to invade Lake Michigan through the Chicago Area Waterway System, a canal system that's been used for well over a hundred years. Shippers are used to it. Chicago is used to it. The Army Corps of Engineers is used to it. But, like hanging up an old pair of felt-soled waders, we have to close the artificial connection between the Mississippi River and Great Lakes watersheds before we ruin the waters we love. 

The Army Corps of Engineers has erected an electric barrier in the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal, but Asian carp eDNA has been found on the lake-side of the barrier since 2009. A federal lawsuit to force closure of the locks separating the canals from the lake is pending. The Corps commissioned a study on closing the inter-basin connection, due in 2015, but earlier today the Great Lakes Commission and the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence Cities Initiative released an independent study on the feasibility of separating the basins. You can view the report here, so I won't go too far into the details. The gist is that the cost of the proposed plans could range from $3.9 billion to $9.5 billion, depending on the plan chosen. The projects would likely have to be federally-funded, and include flood-control tunnels and alternative routes for shipping and boating. 

While this sounds like a lot of money, and it is, it is a reasonable cost to save a Great Lakes fishery which generates $7 billion in annual economic activity. Asian carp are voracious eaters and can completely conquer waters they inhabit by starving out native species, like a wedding crasher who eats all the cake. It's not only the lakes which are at risk, but all the connecting waters, too. If you're like me, you're visualizing how your favorite river connects to a Great Lake right now. As far as we know, Asian carp have not yet established a viable population in Lake Michigan, but it's only a matter of time before they do if we do nothing about it. 

Spending $4 to 9 billion to separate two watersheds sounds daunting; but when you consider the $7 billion fishery it would save, it's a no-brainer. It would be like spending $40,000 to $90,000 to obtain a college degree in order to secure a job which pays $70,000 a year. I think most rational people would make that investment, and so should we as a nation. In fact, that would be a better financial return than I've received for my law degree so far.

I miss my old waders, though they hang on my garage wall as a memento. I have to admit that it took a little while to get used to my rubber-soled waders, but now they're broken in and I don't have any problem wading Michigan rivers in them. There will also be an adjustment when we separate the watershed, and we'll have to make sacrifices to do it; some more than others, admittedly.  It will be a sound investment, though, in order to save the greatest freshwater resource in the world.   

Public Land, Public Trust
by Drew YoungeDyke
Yesterday was Nov. 15. That may seem like a meaningless statement to some, but where I’m from, it’s like saying that yesterday was Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Independence Day, and my birthday all rolled into one: it was Opening Day for firearm deer hunting.

In northern Michigan, that usually meant a couple days excused from school and a trip to a neighbor’s property, if you were able to secure permission, to sit in a plywood blind and freeze while waiting for a buck to appear silently from the woods. If you didn’t know someone, or didn’t have your own acreage to hunt, then you went to the nearest patch of state land wearing as much blaze orange as you could while retaining the ability to walk. Hunting is so important in this state that even the legislature has recessed for deer season.

However, the very concept of public land is under attack here in Michigan. The resource that has defined our state since it was a territory is now deemed expendable, even burdensome, to some state legislators. Bills recently introduced in the Michigan House and Senate include proposals to limit the amount of public land Michigan may own, to force the DNR to grant permits for easement roads over public land - even when landowners know there is no road access when they purchase the land – and, most appallingly, to raid the Natural Resources Trust Fund in order to publicly fund private mining and logging roads through state land.

These proposals indicate contempt for undeveloped land held in the public trust, and thereby contempt for those who use it. State land, public land, is the great equalizer that allows every Michigan citizen to hunt if he or she so chooses. State land means that you don’t have to be land rich, or inherit a farm, or even know a farmer (though they’re generally great people to know), in order to engage in the oldest outdoor activity in the history of our species. Hunting also contributes $153 million in state tax revenue, and most hunting license fee revenues go to conservation programs. In Michigan, public land means that you can live in a small town and still hunt, or live in a city like Grand Rapids, Traverse City, East Lansing, Detroit, Marquette, or even Ann Arbor (really) and still hunt.

While true that there is plenty of public land across the state – approximately 4.5 million acres, the most of any state east of the Mississippi – most of that land is concentrated in northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula. It gives great character to the northern part of the state, but if you live in southern Michigan, there are precious few places to hunt. The DNR has an innovative tool for locating public hunting areas, called Mi-Hunt, but you’ll find many of those areas are crowded with other blaze orange dots scattered throughout the tract.

The problem with bills that would cap the amount of state land, ordestroy its wild character by slashing it with roads, or deplete the trust established to purchase new state lands by spending it on private industry roads, is that state laws apply statewide. Someone from the Upper Peninsula or northern Michigan may look around and think that state land is infinitely abundant, but a state law preventing new land acquisitions would apply equally to southern Michigan, where what little available state land exists is already fractured by roads, easements, and development. At a time when the biggest obstacle to hunter recruitment is the availability of a place to hunt, there is no action more anti-hunting than limiting and destroying public land.

While the legislature is recessed, I hope they go out on state land and hunt. I hope they experience the outdoors as an active participant, first-hand, and realize what they rob from Michigan citizens when they introduce and pass bills like these. When they return from their break, I urge them to oppose any bill that would limit, carve, or destroy the abundance and character of public land in Michigan. Until then, I’ll be tracking whitetails on state land while we still have it.