Northland College

Given the current environmental crises, the outdoor profession must play a part in helping our society transition to more sustainable systems and behaviors. Despite years of calls for the outdoor profession to develop and implement curricula aimed at cultivating a sustainability worldview in our participants, we have yet to see any widespread adoption of sustainability curricula. We argue that the nearly ubiquitous Leave No Trace (LNT) curriculum, although originally designed to address environmental impacts only within recreation areas, can serve as a springboard to teach and promote education for sustainability through commitments to “LNT for Life.”

Abstract Maintaining jaguar Panthera onca subpopulations throughout Mesoamerica is vital to range-wide jaguar conservation. Corcovado National Park in Costa Rica is critical habitat for the Osa Peninsula jaguar subpopulation. There is a debate regarding whether the jaguars in this National Park are in a state of crisis. To examine this, we implemented long-term camera-trap monitoring throughout Corcovado National Park during 2015–2021. Using a spatially explicit Jolly–Seber model we estimated jaguar populations and distribution throughout our study area. Additionally, we reran our model using a constrained study area to compare our findings with those of a previous study. Trends in jaguar abundance indices and population estimates during 2015–2021 indicate that jaguar abundance has increased over time. Our jaguar density estimates also fall within the range of jaguar densities reported for relatively stable populations elsewhere. Using the same study area as that of a prior study, jaguar densities also increased over the duration of our study and were mostly comparable to previous density estimates. Our results suggest that jaguars within Corcovado National Park may not be in a state of crisis. Rather, our findings provide further hope for the jaguars of the Osa Peninsula. They do not, however, diminish the importance of continued conservation efforts. These will remain critical both inside and outside Corcovado National Park, as threats appear to have persisted over time.

We are three educators working in rural space. We came together to craft a story of early-career teachers’ experiences working in an intermountain western boomtown. To uncover the unique challenges of this context, we explored themes related to schooling in communities undergoing economic dislocation represented through master narratives of boom and bust. Teachers confront these challenges in both phases of the cycle. Here we tell a story about teaching in the boom, one that nests within the boosterism associated with the economic good times. Those good times, however, are ever shadowed by awareness of the consequences of the inevitable bust. These economic trends originate in places far from the impacted communities. Early-career teachers, exposed to in-flux classrooms, often bear this weight. From that experience, we present a resultant protean rural narrative, and we hope that through its telling we may share unique insights that resonate among other educators, regardless of setting. Keywords: rural, early-career teachers, boom-bust, narrative

Ginseng Diggers is surprising by many turns—it reveals the earliness, the size, and the global reach of the medicinal herb market extending out of Appalachia, as well as the lesser-known circuits of nineteenth-century capital, in intense detail. For instance, regional trade in ginseng was well established by the 1730s, and by the late 1700s, ginseng proved crucial for opening trade relations with China (17). By the 1840s, market size was truly startling: as the most valuable forest product in Kentucky, during “the hunters’ paradise of Daniel Boone's generation, rural residents traded nearly twice as much ginseng as skins and furs” (50). In additional to ginseng, mayapple, bloodroot, wild ginger, lobelia, and pink lady's slipper were commonly traded or sold throughout the long nineteenth century.The book is well situated within the literature of the commons and capitalist expansion, Appalachian history, garden history, Americans’ increasing belief in and use of medicinal herbs during the Second Great Awakening, and the global medicinal drug trade. Manget traces the economic changes in the medicinal herb market, the concomitant damage to Appalachian ecosystems, and social expectations around the use of goods foraged from the commons. In the 1850s, for instance, throughout Appalachia, putting up a fence to disallow free access to one's property for root digging was akin to community warfare (53). “Sanging” in this moment was as much a leisure activity as a way to secure extra income. At the same time, southern Appalachia became the nation's premiere supplier of herbal drugs, and in many places, after the Civil War, privatization was in full swing (64).Manget tackles the myth of the “sang digger,” the seed of later terrible stereotypes of Appalachian people: “Based on a kernel of truth, [the stereotype] was nurtured by ignorance, cognitive dissonance, and capitalist goals until it grew to the point of pure fantasy” (196).Although the book focuses predominantly on the white Southern experience in the medicinal plant trade, there is thoughtful coverage of Indigenous people. Of special focus are the Cherokee people—their use of various plants, their knowledge of the land and plant habitat, and their roles in the burgeoning medicinal plant trade over generations. As the book unfolds, it becomes clear that ginseng—as well as all other medicinal plants and the people involved in their trade—are caught in circuits of national expansion, Indian removal, and agricultural land conversion under slavery.Most medicinal herbs did not become true agricultural products (they were not widely farmed nor gardened). Because of the plants’ popularity, however, and the apparent market pressures on their ecological communities after the Civil War, many Appalachian people attempted to cultivate crops by spreading seed in forests where they collected goods. And yet by the end of the nineteenth century, like most commodities extracted from the land, ginseng and other herbs were scarce.The reader will learn, and enjoy, more than thoughtful, thorough history in Manget's work. As is true with most book titling, the subtitle is more accurate than the title. While ginseng is at the center of many chapters, the book is far more expansive and useful, including information on the trade and use of many plants throughout the nineteenth century. Today's gardeners (I am an avid one), in fact, grow a plethora of once-medicinal herbs that are now cultivated for looks instead of use. I now see several plants in my own backyard—bloodroot, wild ginger, lobelia, wintergreen, hellebore, blue flag iris, and black cohosh—in a new way. Although I live 1,000 miles from Appalachia, most plants discussed here thrive in gardening zones 3 through 8. Among the lively and deep archive of materials Manget utilizes, the dozens of materia medicas catalogued here are among the most revealing (and satisfying to the historian and gardener).Two mild critiques of the book: the index is far too brief for a work of this importance, and the text at times can overstate its case, especially in arguing that “sang diggers [were] the ultimate ‘other’” in the American South and wider nation (196). But these should not deter interested readers. Manget is a good storyteller as well as an excellent historian.

Management of wolves is controversial in many jurisdictions where wolves live, which underscores the importance of rigor, transparency, and reproducibility when evaluating outcomes of management actions. Treves and Louchouarn 2022 (hereafter TL) predicted outcomes for various fall 2021 hunting scenarios following Wisconsin's judicially mandated hunting and trapping season in spring 2021, and concluded that even a zero harvest scenario could result in the wolf population declining below the population goal of 350 wolves specified in the 1999 Wisconsin wolf management plan. TL further concluded that with a fall harvest of > 16 wolves there was a "better than average possibility" that the wolf population size would decline below that 350-wolf threshold. We show that these conclusions are incorrect and that they resulted from mathematical errors and selected parameterizations that were consistently biased in the direction that maximized mortality and minimized reproduction (i.e., positively biased adult mortality, negatively biased pup survival, further halving pup survival to November, negatively biased number of breeding packs, and counting harvested wolves twice among the dead). These errors systematically exaggerated declines in predicted population size and resulted in erroneous conclusions that were not based on the best available or unbiased science. Corrected mathematical calculations and more rigorous parameterization resulted in predicted outcomes for the zero harvest scenario that more closely coincided with the empirical population estimates in 2022 following a judicially prevented fall hunt in 2021. Only in scenarios with simulated harvest of 300 or more wolves did probability of crossing the 350-wolf population threshold exceed zero. TL suggested that proponents of some policy positions bear a greater burden of proof than proponents of other positions to show that "their estimates are accurate, precise, and reproducible". In their analysis, TL failed to meet this standard that they demanded of others.

The timing of the Laurentide Ice Sheet's final retreat from North America's Laurentian Great Lakes is relevant to understanding regional meltwater routing, changing proglacial lake levels, and lake-bottom stratigraphy following the Last Glacial Maximum. Recessional moraines on Isle Royale, the largest island in Lake Superior, have been mapped but not previously dated. Here, we use the mean of ten new 10 Be exposure-ages of glacial erratics from two recessional moraines (10.1 ± 1.1 ka, one standard deviation; excluding one anomalously young sample) to constrain the timing of Isle Royale's final deglaciation. This 10 Be age is consistent with existing minimum limiting 14 C ages of basal organic sediment from two inland lakes on Isle Royale, a sediment core in Lake Superior southwest of the island, and an estimated deglaciation age of the younger of two subaqueous moraines between Isle Royale and Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula. Relationships between Isle Royale's landform ages and Lake Superior bottom stratigraphy allow us to delineate the retreat of the Laurentide ice margin across and through Lake Superior in the early Holocene. We suggest Laurentide ice was in contact with the southern shorelines of Lake Superior later than previously thought.

Sport management classrooms prepare practitioners and decision makers to work in Sport for Development (SfD). A core issue within SfD is a lack of critical racial reflexivity, particularly with racially White professionals, which maintains inequitable power structures and keeps SfD programs from reaching their intended goal of facilitating positive outcomes. This study, informed by critical Whiteness studies, aimed to understand how White undergraduate sport management students critically reflected upon race while participating in an SfD service-learning course. Analyzing written reflections completed in the course, we found that students utilized Race Evasiveness and Race Explicitness, despite course content and SfD practice explicitly focused on race. Implications for research and practice are discussed.