It's the first hitch of the fall season, and Crew 7 (name pending) set off to the Black Hills of South Dakota - two seasoned vets and a handful of freshies. We set out on our task building beaver dams, and while the assignment was clear, these newbies were eager to understand the intentions and theory behind our pool and spa construction. Our project partners enthusiastically answered our questions as we weighed our constructive disturbance against the dreams of restoring habitat. As it turns out, it's far more than beaver habitat that we are restoring. Hidden beneath the deception of tall valley grasses are the remains of a once nourishing flood plain, lush with willows whose roots love that riparian, swampy, dense soil, and stewarded by the once vibrant beaver communities that swam their hearts out in their riparian paradise. The conundrum persists, however, as we dig out pools, piling muck on the bodies of freshly felled spruce, and trampling baby willows that we know must return just the same as pools in order to invite the Beaver home.

So what of these tradeoffs, you ask? Well, in some departments, we tread on land unknown as we mere humans try to replicate the ecological network created by years, centuries, and eras (!) of co-evolution. But it's true, the Spruce and Ponderosas were not always the dominant inhabitants of the Black Hills, and in their reign, water has been coveted for their use. It's true, the cattle still roam and trample our architectural masterpieces, but these are the waters we swim in, and restoration is not just ecological or social alone. Nothing is in isolation.

As days went by, my own cautionary skepticism melted away by the revelations of interconnectivity. Perhaps research does change its mind year to year, but our shovels and heavy arms are not the ones that wreak destruction; instead, they attempt to forge a healthier earth with the help of our awesome partners. After days in the muck and cow poop, I began to feel at home in those grassy valleys, trudging through the asters, mint, yarrow, and those prickly Canadian thistles. Stewardship indeed, with the greatest humility and best intentions, is healing.