Great ships of faith

Barn is the vernacular architecture of Iowa and there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Now declining, many gone to ruin and many more gone entirely, barns plain and fancy expressed our agricultural underpinnings and spoke of rural wisdom --- the imperative to shelter and feed all of God's domestic creatures, not just the human part of the farm family.

I thought of barns when I began to notice similarities between two Roman Catholic churches of south central Iowa Monday while worrying the memory of an old friend, Jeanette Quinn.

Jeanette, Sister Quinn of the Congregation of the Humility of Mary during most of the years I knew her, was sent at age 13, if I'm remembering the story correctly, to the sisters in Ottumwa to find a vocation among them. Her Irish family had taken root first in Iowa at Georgetown.



Look at them, both St. Patrick's of Georgetown (top), very old in Iowa terms, and the former Chapel of the Magnificat, relatively new, at what once was Ottumwa Heights, and see how barn-like they are, rock-solid and commodious, but still unpretentious, simple shelters for flocks of the faithful.

But ship probably is the better analogy. St. Patrick's does sail toward you across prairie waves, visible for miles as you drive east along U.S. Highway 34 between the Melrose corner and Albia. And the Chapel of the Magnificat sails, too, flagship among a flotilla of low and sprawling wings that once served as Ottumwa Heights College and the mother house of the Sisters of Humility in their western establishment.

The word "nave," referring structurally to that portion of a church where the faithful gather to sit, stand and kneel as they worship, is merely the Latin word "navis," or ship, anglicized. So ship it is.

St. Patrick's has carried its flock through waters rough and smooth for 140 years --- and continues to do so. The Chapel of the Magnificat, however, served for little more than 20 years before finding a new vocation. It is now library and gallery for Indian Hills Community College, also honorable work.

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We all have gilt-edged memories that flash through our minds or can be recalled at will of incidents with no particular importance, merely islands in time when all seemed right with the world. One of mine involves Ottumwa Heights, the Chapel of the Magnificat and Jeanette.

We had become friends at the University of Iowa School of Journalism. The J School's student body was relatively small in a large place and we were a tight group, including that dimunitive and gentle nun at least twice our ages in a modified habit (light blue, knee-length skirt, lapel pin rather than crucifix) who had been parked by her superiors in the convent associated with St. Mary's Church while she pursued a degree in journalism. We came to love her and still do, although she died a good many years ago.

It was Indian summer when I saw Jeanette last at Ottumwa Heights during that odd season after we both had received our June degrees. She had gone home restless to Ottumwa Heights and I had enrolled in graduate school while waiting to be drafted (this was at the height of the Vietnam War).

After supper in that glowing late afternoon, we walked from the mother house along cloister-like corridors and through courtyards, visting classrooms and the empty noviciate, then out northeast along a lane through oak-timbered lawns to the cemetery, where generations of sisters had been buried in tidy rows. The air was mild, students were raking and burning leaves and we had much to talk about.

Afterwards, we sat quietly in the chapel for half an hour or so, both sojourners --- Jeanette on a path that a few years later would lead her to a new vocation outside the convent and me, to Vietnam. As we were leaving, Jeanette picked up two rosaries and gave them to me.

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St. Patrick's came first, although Georgetown began life as Stacyville (renamed later because north Iowa's similarly named Staceyville claimed a post office by that name first); and St. Patrick's began as St. Gregory's, but was given a patron to better represent its Irish roots in 1872.

The first Irish settlers had arrived in western Monroe County as early as 1844, a year after my ex-Mormon and Brethren ancestors alighted in the far northeast part of the county. Until 1853, when the Rev. John Kreckel was assigned a 13-county parish centered in Ottumwa, Mass was an occasional occurrence. After that, it was celebrated regularly --- once a month.

The Rev. John R. Mitchell became Monroe County's first resident priest in 1856 and he oversaw construction of a log church at Georgetown.


Construction of the great brown sandstone church began in 1860, using stone quarried nearby, but the Civil War intervened and it was not completed until 1869.

Nearly all Catholics in south central Iowa can look to St. Patrick's as their mother parish, including Lucas Countyans. Chariton's Sacred Heart, which began as St. Mary's, was planted by the Rev. Bernard P. McMenomy, St. Gregory/St. Patrick pastor from 1865-1869. In Monroe County, St. Gregory's/St. Patrick's launched as missions St. Patrick's of Melrose, St. Mary's of Albia, St. Mary's of Weller (closed in 1996) and St. Peter's of Lovilia.

The exterior of St. Patrick's has changed little over the years, but the interior has been substantially modified --- the ceiling lowered, and when that happened the lovely reredos behind the high altar that once soared almost to the peak of the roof was lost; and the north wall of the chancel moved forward, meaning the great rose window in the north wall no longer is visible from the nave.

Outside, a low-slung new parish center has replaced the wood frame convent, school (taught by Sisters of Humility from Ottumwa) and parish hall that once stretched north from the church.


St. Patrick's houses a remarkable collection of statuary and some of that is evident on its acres of neatly-mown lawn, including this representation of St. Patrick, which is among fairly recent additions.

The most recent addition is a life-size bronze likeness of Padre Pio, the Italian Capuchin priest canonized St. Pio of Pietrelcina during 2002, located in a small devotional area at the entrance to St. Patrick's Cemetery south across Highway 34 from the church. Padre Pio among the corn seems a little unusual until you remember that St. Pio is very popular in Ireland and when you're standing at Georgetown (or Melrose), you're standing in little Ireland.

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If St. Patrick's and Georgetown are unabashedly Irish, the Congregation of the Humility of Mary began with both feet planted firmly in France. After arrival in the United States two establishments developed, the eastern in Pennsylvania and Ohio and the western, in Iowa. The history of the precise relationship between the two is beyond me.

What is clear is that Marie-Antoinette Potier (later Mother Madelaine) originated what became the order, devoted to education and the care of orphans, in the village of Donmartin-sous-Amace. The Rev. John Joseph Begel, parish priest, petitioned for formation of the Sisters of the Humility of Mary, based upon Potier's groundwork, and formation was granted in 1858. He however, ran into trouble with the regime of Napoleon III, which prevented the new order from doing its work in France. As a result, Begel brought 11 sisters and four orphans of the order to the United States in 1864, three months after Mother Madelaine's death.

Some years later, a few of the sisters came west and began work in Missouri. In 1877, the same Rev. John Kreckel who was instrumental in founding St. Patrick's convinced the sisters to move their foundation to Ottumwa and the Sisters of Humility expanded to became so intertwined with southern Iowa that it must have seemed as if the relationship would endure forever.

The congregation, which had focused since its arrival on parochial education in Ottumwa and across southern Iowa from various downtown sites, purchased 127 acres in northeast Ottumwa during 1907 and constructed there a very large building to house its St. Joseph Academy and a new mother house for the order.

In 1914, the sisters opened Ottumwa's St. Joseph Hospital, for many years the most respected hospital in the region and in 1925, launched St. Joseph Junior College, intended primarily to prepare students to teach.

In 1930, the academy and college were renamed Ottumwa Heights; in 1936, the Ottumwa Heights-affiliated St. Joseph School of Nursing was established; and in 1939, the sisters organized Marycrest College in Davenport as a women's division of St. Ambrose College.

But in October of 1957, when the congregation was flourishing, the Ottumwa Heights building burned and was replaced 1958-1960 with a new building that was state of the art for an institution of higher learning. The many low wings grouped around the Chapel of the Magnificat contained classrooms, dormitories and the mother house, all linked by corridors. It was remarkable for its time and although extensively remodeled and expanded has held up well.

After 1957, however, the fortunes of both the congregation and the college shifted as the number of women entering religious vocations declined precipitously and small private colleges began to experience problems attracting and retaining students. This was also the beginning of the end for Presbyterian-affiliated Parsons College in nearby Fairfield that gained nationwide attention as it ballooned from 400 to 5,000 students under the leadership 1955-1967 of Millard G. Roberts before collapse in 1973 and sale of its campus to followers of Maharashi Mahesh Yogi and its reincarnation as what now is the Maharishi University of Management.

Nothing quite so dramatic happened at Ottumwa Heights, which admitted men as students for the first time in 1967. The college graduated its final class in 1979 and organizers of Iowa's expanding community college system began to eye the site as a home for a new campus of Indian Hills Community College, then concentrated in Centerville.

That sale was arranged in 1981, and in 1982, the Sisters of Humility moved to a new mother house in Davenport --- 105 years after their arrival in Ottumwa. St. Joseph Hospital was sold in 1988. As the years passed, Marycrest College also foundered and closed after its sale to a private group.

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So sunset in Ottumwa was near too for the Congregation of the Humility of Mary as Jeanette and I sat in the Magnificat Chapel on that late fall afternoon more than 30 years ago now.

Today, the great north doors of the chapel are no longer used and access to what now is the Indian Hills library is through a side door from a cloister-like corridor into a high narrow space that still allows the stained glass flanking the old entrance to be seen.



The library fills the nave of the chapel, where ceilings have been lowered substantially, although it is a pleasant place.

Through doors at the south end of the library, however, is a soaring space of polished pale marble and stained glass, once the chancel of the chapel but now a gallery where bright contemporary works by artists at Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri, were displayed Monday. The iconography of what was the reredos remains.


I shared that space Monday with a young Indian Hills student eager to talk and we chatted about art, his goals and what this place had been. I suggested that he visit the sisters someday at the convent cemetery --- now unattractively jammed up against a college maintenance area. I don't think they have many visitors nowadays. Sisters have not been buried here since the move to Davenport.

Frankly, Mt. Olivet Cemetery is a depressing place --- and cemeteries rarely depress me. It seems to reflect a sad end for a rich chapter in southern Iowa's religious life.

But the Indian Hills campus, punctuated with well-designed new buildings and lots of parking lots, is a busy and lively place. I really liked it and I suspect that many of the sisters in repose on its fringe, a good distance now from their new mother house, would too.




If it had not been for Michael W. Lemberger's and Leigh Michaels' 2007 "St. Patrick's, Georgetown, Iowa," I would have had to spend days sifting through my notes and poking around online to find the dates and chronology of St. Patrick's. PBL Limited, based in Ottumwa, has published this and quite a number of other highly interesting books about the history of southern Iowa and beyond. If you're interested in such things, you'll be interested in PBL's Web site, www.pbllimited.com, where all sorts of good stuff can be ordered.

Resurrection of Franklin Baptist Church

I’ve gotten tangled up again in Church-o-mania --- not theology (too destructive) --- but appreciation for the structures our forbears built to speak about their hopes and convictions --- expressing faith architecturally. Sometimes to the greater glory of God and sometimes to the greater glory of themselves.

Iowa is blessed with many survivals, some grand and others not --- and they can restore faith in the power of harmonious design.

I blame some of this new church tangle on Simon Knott, whose “Churches of East Anglia” Web site (also linked under “Anglophilia” at left), offers a chance to visit with him every Anglican and Roman Catholic church in England's Suffolk and Norfolk, depending upon which option you choose. I’ve spent way too many hours doing that.

Fair warning, though, Simon is Roman Catholic --- and therefore sometimes cranky about the Anglicans who, courtesy of Henry XIII, wrested every Roman church in England from the old faith and rebranded them Church of England. He is more justifiably incensed at later English protestants who set out to excise all traces of the old faith, shattering virtually every medieval bit of glass in the country , defacing the saints, dewinging the angels --- and in general behaving very badly.

In Iowa, rural churches especially are endangered as population declines, expenses mount and vandalism increases. Only five are left in Lucas County --- Center Community, Norwood United Methodist, Goshen Baptist, Pleasant Prairie United Methodist (a newer building that replaced an older one) and Bethel United Methodist, which I believe is no longer used although that’s a fairly recent development. None is grand although each reflects the resources and worship practices of the congregation that built it. They come by their simplicity honestly.

But the most common fate of small rural church buildings has been this: Congregation disbands, but cannot bear to tear its building down; the church deteriorates and is vandalized; the building finally is burned or bulldozed when it becomes a hazard.

There are exceptions, however; and I happened upon one of those a couple of years ago in southwest Appanoose County, southeast of Seymour, while looking for the grave of a young man named Albert B. Crouch, who had been killed in Vietnam on the 18th of May 1970, 19 days after he had arrived there.


That took me to Livingson, the ghost town where he is buried; and to the beautifully restored Franklin Baptist Church. This simple church was built in 1881 within the old village of Livingson atop a hill looking down on the cemetery. Extensively remodeled in 1960, it had lost among other things its bell tower and original siding --- and as the years passed it became increasingly endangered.

What happened next is remarkable.


The Historic Livingston Foundation was organized in 2003 by members of the Livingston Cemetery Association, Franklin Township trustees and others to conserve the history of the village and restore the church. They replaced the building’s foundation, installed cedar siding and cedar shingles and built and installed a new bell tower and bell. Now, restoration of the interior is in progress and the goal is to create a living, breathing building that once again can serve its community.

The foundation, which has an excellent Web site here, also hopes to move a one-room schoolhouse to the site and restore it and to construct a museum. Wow!

So thanks to the Historic Livingston Foundation, Franklin Baptist Church still is with us --- standing in for hundreds of other rural churches that have fallen, reminding us of what was and what still is possible.

To reach Livingston from Corydon, drive east on Highway 2 through Promise City to the Seymour turnoff a mile east. From Seymour, drive four miles east on (paved) County Road J46, then turn south onto 135th Avenue (gravel) and drive four more miles.

For more about Albert B. Crouch, who brought me to Livingston in the first place, read on.

Happy Birthday Loving Chapel

In a day and age when church planners specialize in Modified Morton Building and Butt-Ugly Big-Box, spotting a jolly and welcoming old-timer like Loving Chapel United Methodist Church lifts the spirits.

The building --- located at the intersection of Highways 2 and 65 in Leon, celebrates its 120th birthday this year, providing you start counting from the year inscribed above the front door, although it was not dedicated until the 17th of March 1889.

It's a lovely name for a church, too --- and appropriate for a congregation that was organized on the 14th of February 1851.

But the truth of the matter is, the building was named to honor "Uncle" Billy and "Aunt" Betty Loving, whose $5,000 gift matched $5,000 already raised by parishioners and enabled construction, debt-free, of a church that ended up costing $12,000. Although you get so involved admiring the detail you'd hardly notice, the building is in the shape of a Greek cross designed originally with a large Sunday school room and transepts that could be closed off with sliding doors.

The jaunty bell tower is my favorite feature of a building that obviously still is loved by its congregation which has done a good job of preserving Loving Chapel's friendly spirit.

Union Church at Davis City

While we’re in the neighborhood of Pleasanton, Nine Eagles State Park and such, it would be a shame to go directly to Lamoni and not turn right on Highway 69 and go on into Davis City, situated right on the Grand River and the home of a fairly remarkable survival, Union Church.

Davis City now is home to about 250 people and its business district, like those of most small Iowa towns, has fallen on hard times. But also like most small Iowa towns, it once had high aspirations. A native Scotsman named John Clark, who once operated a milling business here that now is hard to conceive of, was responsible for many of those.

I’ll let a biography of Mr. Clark, published on pages 336-341 of the “History of Decatur County and Its People” (Chicago: S.J. Clarke Publishing Co., 1915) tell his story and, indirectly, part of Davis City’s. It’s a good read.

Clark’s principal monument today is Union Church, built during 1878 to serve as a home for the village’s three congregations (Methodist, Presbyterian and Christian), none of which had a building. It’s a very plain building, as befits a Scotsman, but gracefully designed and beautifully constructed of brick. Most churches constructed by people of means in 1878 were highly decorated. This building instead looks back to plainer Federal times. It also contained (and still does) the town clock. Clark himself claimed no religious affiliation, but an affection for all --- thus his Union Church.

I do not know what the building is used for today, if anything. It is well maintained and the front seems to have been given a fairly recent sprucing up. And I’m glad it’s still here.

John Clark’s 1915 Biography:

Although more than a quarter of a century has elapsed since the death of John Clark, his memory is still enshrined in the hearts of those who knew him and the influence of his work is still potent. He was one of the earliest manufacturers of woolen goods in Iowa and was also connected with the development of the lumber industry in this state. For many years he resided in Decatur county and was prominently connected with its industrial and financial growth. His integrity and sense of justice were equally as well developed as his business sagacity and power of initiative, and his life was a force for righteousness.

John Clark was born in Paisley, near Glasgow, Scotland, on the 25th of September, 1813, and three years later was brought by his father, John Clark, to America. The family landed at Philadelphia and settled on a small river flowing into the Delaware, about ten miles from that city, where the father conducted a cotton factory. While living in Scotland he had been a silk weaver. In 1818 removal was made to Beaver county, Pennsylvania, and two years later he took his family and went to New Lisbon, Ohio, where both he and his wife spent their remaining days. She was a member of the royal family of Stuarts of Scotland, her father, Charles Edward Stuart, being the prince of Scotland and her grandfather the king of the united kingdom of England and Scotland. Her demise occurred when she was but forty-five years of age and her husband also died when comparatively young, being forty-eight years old at the time of his death. They left four sons and five daughters, all of whom are now deceased.

John Clark of this review resided in Columbiana county, Ohio, until the fall of 1846, when he removed to Jefferson county, Iowa, with his family and engaged in the wool-carding and cloth-dressing business in connection with the manufacture of lumber. This was the pioneer plant of its kind in Iowa and was farther west than any similar establishment. In 1843 Mr. Clark lost the entire mill property by fire but through the assistance of others his machinery was replaced and he was enabled to resume business. His mill cut the first plank for the first plank road in Iowa and its history forms a part of the industrial history of the state. In June, 1856, Mr. Clark removed to Decatur county and settled in Morgan township, purchasing a thousand acres of land from the government, half of which was timbered. He erected a sawmill upon his holdings and added two burrs for the manufacture of flour and also carding machinery, while two years later he installed spinning machinery and looms, manufacturing all kinds of woolen cloth. During the Civil War the demand for woolen goods was so great that twelve looms were kept busy and he handled not less than seventy-five thousand pounds of wool annually. In 1869 the First National Bank of Leon was organized with a capital stock of fifty thousand dollars and Mr. Clark was elected the first president of the institution, continuing in that position until it was reorganized as the Farmers & Traders Bank. In 1870 he, in connection with his son William, bought the mill property at Davis City and five years later he and his sons erected the flouring mill which is still in operation at that place. He had the astuteness of mind which enabled him to recognize opportunities where others saw none and he also possessed the energy and aggressiveness to formulate and carry into execution plans for the utilization of such opportunities. These qualities made him a pioneer in the manufacture of cloth and lumber in Iowa and his connection with the industrial and financial development of Decatur county resulted in good to the community as well as in his own material prosperity.

Mr. Clark was married on the 25th of September, 1834, in Columbiana county, Ohio, to Miss Grace Gammill, who died September 21, 1835. To them was born a daughter, Elizabeth, now the widow of James F. Bolon, of Davis City. On the 21st of September, 1836, Mr. Clark married Miss Margaret C. Gammill, an older sister of his first wife, both of whom were daughters of James Gammill, a native of York county, Pennsylvania. To this union were born two sons and four daughters, of whom two survive, namely: Williams, a resident of Omaha; and Mrs. Caroline Biggs, of Leon. Mrs. Clark passed away upon her farm near Davis City in 1902.

Mr. Clark was a republican in his political belief but was never an aspirant for official honors. He never identified himself with any religious organization but realized that the work done by all the churches of a community is of great importance in promoting the moral welfare. He also saw the advantage of church unity and in 1878 erected a good church edifice which he presented to all of the religious societies of Davis City, representing two branches of the Methodist denomination and the Presbyterian and Christian churches. The building is still used by the three congregations and is known as the Union church.

At the time of his death the Decatur County Journal published the following: “Deceased died as he had lived, calm, placid and self-possessed, September 4, 1888, aged seventy-five years. Thus ended the life of John Clark, one of nature’s noblemen, a model man and citizen, a noble and honored father, a loving and true husband, a friend whose friendship was like the light of the sun, true and steadfast in its course. The life of Mr. Clark furnishes an example to the youths of today of what may be accomplished by energy and continued labor, combined with the honest and noble resolution of benefiting his fellowmen with a portion of the material results of a successful life. Mr. Clark was fully aware of the seriousness of his last illness some time prior to his departure and made every arrangement for his burial. Also in talking over the matter with his children he stated: ‘I know that my case is a critical one and that no physician can do me any good. I leave my case entirely in the hands of Providence and feel perfectly resigned, let that be as it may, it’s all right.’ This well balanced and perfect consciousness was with him when he breathed his last, for, leaning back into the arms of his son James, surrounded by those he loved, he said to all: ‘I am going --- I will soon be gone.’ ”

Pleasanton Methodist Chapel

Pleasanton is still a pleasant place, tucked down against the Missouri state line in Decatur County, even though much of it has vanished as the years have passed, the number of farms has diminished and declining population has wiped out its retail business district and schools. As buildings have been taken down, the village has opened up into fields with remnant structures scattered across them.

I guess it’s remote, in a way, but I’ve never thought of it that way because it is at the crossroads of two of my favorite southern Iowa/northern Missouri drives. The first involves driving south from Humeston on Highway 65, turning right onto paved county roads at the north limits of Lineville, then cruising west up and down sweeping hills and through deeply-cut creek valleys parallel to the Missouri line with wonderful views off to the south. (If you follow my trail, make sure to take the left turn at the curve a couple of miles west of Lineville --- if you stay on the Lineville road, you’ll head northwest to Highway 2 east of Leon.)

Once at the “T” intersection on Pleasanton’s north edge, you’ve got a choice. Take a left, and you’re in Missouri before you know it. A mile or two down the road, turn right and follow the Little River bluff tops for a curving picturesque ride down into Canesville, an interesting little town in its own right with some wonderful old buildings.

If you take a right, the road curves northwesterly past the entrance to Nine Eagles State Park, one of Iowa’s best, then down and around the hills into which Nine Eagles is tucked and out across the Grand River valley to Davis City. Hang a left onto Highway 69 and you’ll arrive shortly at Interstate 35 and, just beyond it, Lamoni.

Just across from the Nine Eagles entrance is the Pleasanton Community of Christ (formerly the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints). Although the congregation’s current building is an innovative and somewhat surprising dome, that dome houses the earliest of Iowa’s Community of Christ/RLDS congregations.

Some will know, and many won’t, that this part of Decatur County was where many Latter-day Saints who chose not to follow Brigham Young to Utah came together around the family of Mormon prophet Joseph Smith Jr., which also was estranged from Young. Lamoni became the focus of this emerging church which eventually moved its headquarters to Independence, Missouri, but left behind the vibrant Graceland University as well as Joseph Smith III’s restored home and other interesting stuff.

Although there is a “Chief Lamoni” motel at Lamoni, don’t be fooled into thinking we’re talking about Sac and Fox here. Lamoni, according to the Book of Mormon, was a Lamanite king converted by the missionary Ammon back to the law of Moses, thus becoming righteous. Community of Christ is a fairly recent change in name undertaken, I suppose for a variety of reasons: Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is a bit bulky, its members quite frankly got tired to explaining that, no, they weren’t a branch of the big boys in Utah and, finally, Community of Christ better reflects the denomination’s 21st century mission.

But that’s a side trip for another day, especially since I forgot to photograph the Pleasanton Community of Christ when out roaming around Monday --- something I’ll have to do another day.

What caught my eye Monday, as it has a couple of other times, is the Pleasanton Methodist Chapel which, unlike the Community of Christ, is actually inside Pleasanton’s village limits --- tucked away down a dead-end side street. It’s a wonderful survival, I think, and still used for regular Sunday services according to its neighbor, who I talked with briefly.

Country churches of the Protestant variety are sometimes called, somewhat dismissively by those who want to generalize, “preaching boxes.” Part of the reason for that is that unlike Catholic, Episcopal and even Lutheran churches, where the sacraments are a major focus, Methodists, Baptists and the like focused instead on the sermon. So the pulpit rather than an altar is front and center in many of these buildings. Beyond that, many of them look a little like shoeboxes with pitched roofs.

But if this is a preaching box, look at how wonderfully it was embellished --- the fish-scale shingles centered on diamond-shaped windows in the eaves; a wonderful little apse on the business end of the building, pointed carpenter gothic windows. It’s just wonderful on a very small scale.

The bell mounted near the entrance suggests that there was once a tower to house it, perhaps over the vestibule that is inset into the southwest corner. Firmly locked, there was no way to explore the interior, but I’d guess that there’s a sunny Sunday school room to the right of the vestibule with the nave to the north.

The neighbor said the foundation is a little shaky --- it looks as if it’s the original. But for now at least the Pleasanton Methodist Chapel and its congregation are hanging in there, still balanced on solid rock and defying winds of change and Morton Building aesthetics.



I stopped twice at Nine Eagles Monday, once on the way to Eagleville when it was cloudy and again, headed home, after the sun came out.

The first stop was more productive in the wildlife category. Wild turkeys, lots of them, were emerging from the woods, scooting across the roads and then disappearing again. From the south lake overlook, I watched an immature eagle fishing --- quite a sight, but of course the camera wasn't handy. Sun turned the lake and surrounding woods into postcard material. This shot was taken from a high point on the north side of the late looking southwest toward the dam and beyond.