“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and our grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty.”
These oft-quoted words of Daniel Burnham — architect, urban planner, visonary for the World’s Columbian Exhibition, chief author of the Plan of Chicago, commonly known as the Burnham Plan — apply perfectly to George Fell.
Fell made no little plans. He aimed high in transforming a loose band of academics into The Nature Conservancy, now the largest conservation organization in the world. He was insistent in establishing the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission, which in turn sparked nearly every other state in the nation to establish similar ways of protecting the remnants of our biological heritage.
Perhaps the best place to experience where Fell’s big, realized plans come together most inspiringly is at Nachusa Grasslands Nature Preserve.
Among Fell’s many strengths was his ability to lay out a “logical diagram” for his big plans. No mere dreamer, he painstakingly put into place The Nature Conservancy’s operational infrastructure, including its vaunted chapter system.
Among the first chapters to be established was the one in his home state. Fell played an active role in the early days of the Illinois Chapter, serving as board treasurer and personally negotiating its first acquisition — Volo Bog. Much later, as executive director of the Natural Land Institute, Fell helped TNC acquire the first 115 acres of remnant prairie near Franklin Grove, IL, which today anchor Nachusa Grasslands.
In 2013, the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission dedicated the 1,000-acre core unit of Nachusa as an Illinois Nature Preserve. It’s hard to say which of the 400+ Illinois Nature Preserves is the best, but by several measures Nachusa has to be near the top of the list. In addition to the fact that it is among the largest restored grasslands in the entire state, a small army of passionate volunteers has helped to ensure that its prairies, oak savannas, woodlands and wetlands are exceptionally well stewarded.
Nachusa harbors more than 700 native plant species and hosts 180 different kinds of birds. Although several other Illinois Nature Preserves boast equally rich biodiversity, Nachusa is the only one that has bison. Only at Nachusa can you experience the beauty, the blood-stirring magic that is The Nature Conservancy, the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission, and a growing herd of Bison bison, America’s national mammal.
Thanks, George, for aiming high and realizing your big, beautiful plans. Thanks to all those who build upon what George accomplished and stagger us with their own big plans and achievements.
All in all, there are 
I had a great time talking to supporters of 
Like several of the Nature Preserves I’ve visited thus far, Belmont Prairie survived by accident, or because someone hadn’t yet gotten around to developing it before it was “discovered.”
As it turned out, it seemed only fitting to be talking about George Fell at 
The preserve is described as the Wisconsin Desert, which technically might be true but grossly undersells the beauty of the site. True, as a sand prairie its soils drain quickly creating a hot, droughty environment that is home to relatively sparse vegetation, including the likes of prickly pear cactus — and lots of it. But, this cool, misty, late April morning, following a recent prairie burn, it is carpeted with bird’s foot violet and early buttercup, and dotted with spikes of cream white indigo.
The thousand-acre site is filled, too, this morning with a chamber concert of birdsong. The four-note descants of eastern meadowlarks echo off the adjacent bluffs, while blue birds and yellow-rumped warblers harvest the low vegetation for a breakfast of bugs. The lark sparrows are in a more amorous mood, the males splaying their distinct tail feathers in the hope of attracting a mate.
As it turns out, Spring Green Preserve also has has an indirect but distinct connection to George Fell. 
Ironclad protection for natural lands and farmland alike is what the Driftless Area needs right now. Attending the talk at Arcadia Books was David Clutter. Years ago, he used to work for the 
For those who may not know, the Driftless Area — primarily southwest Wisconsin, but also parts of southeastern Minnesota, northeastern Iowa and northwestern Illinois — derives its name from the lack drift. Drift is the gravel, sand, clay, rocks, etc. left behind by retreating glaciers. There isn’t any drift in the Driftless Area because, for a combination of reasons, the glaciers that once blanketed the midwest didn’t cover this area. The Driftless Area — unlike the flat, glacier-scoured lands surrounding it — is one of exceptional beauty for the rolling hills, rugged bluffs, deep valleys, bucolic farmsteads and world-class natural areas.
To help fight the good fight, the 
Cowles Bog is not an Illinois Nature Preserve. Neither was The Nature Conservancy involved in its protection. Nonetheless, this National Natural Landmark provides a direct connection to George Fell.
Like the rest of the Great Marsh, Cowles Bog is more accurately described as a wetland complex, comprised of conifer swamp, wet prairie, fen, sedge meadow, marsh, and, yes, bog. This morning, it is ablaze with marsh marigolds, accompanied by the clarion call of sandhill cranes, among the oldest bird species on earth.
Cowles Bog apparently derived its name courtesy of a student of 
Among Cowles’ students was 
George Fell took only one course under Shelford, and apparently didn’t like his professor much. At least at first. Years later, Fell would be elected to the board of the Ecologists’ Union and become the driving force in transforming it into 
I’ve written 
This past summer, following my submission of the final manuscript, it was sent to a copy editor. All I can say is thank god for copy editors. Mine saved me from countless silly mistakes, as well as several of considerably more consequence had they gone unnoticed and unaddressed. In any event, it was my job to review and accept, amend or decline all the suggested copy edits, and then forward the marked-up manuscript back to the senior editor at the Press for final copy editing.
Just this morning, I have finished my final review of the final page proof–last chance to catch any wayward punctuation, etc.–which required me to become conversant with something else entirely new: 
Now it’s up to the senior editor, who finalizes everything before shipping the final final draft to the printer. The actual books, then, will be sent to the distribution warehouse–which just happens to be in Pullman, where I live–and then off to the stores and booksellers. Scheduled publication date: April 18–just about the time that pasque flowers will be blooming in Harlem Hills Nature Preserve, the rare, gravel hill prairie where George and Barbara Fell camped out on their wedding night.
Fire. It’s more than a Chicago soccer team. More than a song written by Bruce Springsteen and made famous by the Pointer Sisters. (And perhaps even more famous when parodied by 
