G A R D E N D I S T R I C T • G O O D W O O D • TA R A • S PA N I S H T O W N
THE MID CITY
C A P I TA L H E I G H T S • L S U L A K E S • M E L R O S E P L A C E • B E A U R E G A R D T O W N
ADVOCATE T H E A D V O C AT E.C O M
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W e d n e s d ay, F e b r u a ry 12, 2025
PROTECTING A
LOUISIANA GEM
PROVIDED PHOTOS
West Feliciana Middle School student Connor Parish explores the 1,500-year-old Grand Champion bald cypress tree at the Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge.
Friends of Cat Island preserve more than national champion tree BY JOY HOLDEN
Don Puckett, Friends of Cat Island vicepresident and former general counsel at the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and The Friends of Cat Island volunteer to Fisheries, says joining Friends after retirededicate their time and energy to protect- ment in 2015 was natural for him. “It was slow going at first,” said Daniel, ing Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge, 13,000 acres of federally protected land who joined the Friends at the same time as in West Feliciana Parish — and most well- Puckett. “But in the last few years, we’ve known as the home to the national cham- really accelerated — and there’s just a ton pion bald cypress tree. The Friends of Cat of community support. We do good for such Island work to preserve this hidden gem, a small community.” educate others and make it accessible so anyone can experience it’s distinct flora Local students help with reforestation and fauna. The Friends work West Feliciana elemenThe Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge tary, middle and high schools on a reforis a bottomland hardwood forest — differ- estation project. In partnership with Ali ent from the surrounding St. Francisville McMillan, education coordinator at Louisiupland hardwood forest. ana Sea Grant, and her Wetlands Day, the “The ecosystems are worlds apart,” said Friends help the students plant trees to reWilliam Daniel, St. Francisville native and store the tree canopy after natural attrition president of the Friends of Cat Island. “It’s due to flooding or bad weather. just such a rich environment down there McMillan, a member of the Friends, says with wildlife and vegetation.” the refuge is one of the area’s best kept seOld growth cypress trees populate the is- crets and an amazing place for students to land along with hundred-year-old oak trees. make connections to what they’re learning Because Cat Island is a river-bottom hard- in the classroom. The Friends get the saplings from Louiwood forest, the refuge is subject to flooding — which has some surprising upshots. siana Department of Agriculture and the The annual flooding has preserved native Louisiana Sea Grant for the tree planting habitats with very few invasive plant spe- program, and then they grow them out to cies, and it has also prevented human de- a plantable size at West Feliciana Middle School in Saint Francisville. When the sapvelopment. The Friends of Cat Island organization lings get to a size where they’re survivable, began in 2001 but lost momentum until the Friends and students plant them at semembers re-established the group in 2015. lected sites on the refuge. The 501(c)(3) nonprofit has been active “The Friends of Cat Island are so giving since then with a board of directors, offi- of their time to support the schools,” said cers and more than a hundred members. McMillan. “The biggest success of the projThe board meets monthly and has partici- ect is the power of partnership. Connectpated in multiple projects over the last 10 ing middle school kids with younger kids years. to plant trees together, and the volunteers Staff writer
Ali McMillan, education coordinator at Louisiana Sea Grant, coordinates the Wetlands Day with WFHS and WFMS. from the Friends of Cat Island help the kids plant the trees. They also come in and they help lead the tree lab at the middle school, which helps the students identify tree species before they go to Cat Island.” She says many of the students have said how much it meant to them that the people from the community would come and talk to them and spend time with them. “Our biggest focus with the Friends is to be youth-oriented,” said Puckett. “So it’s not just a bunch of old people going out
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Jan Risher LONG STORY SHORT
Quiet solitude during snow days When I think back to the snow of 2025, my mind is filled with so many awe-filled moments — walking in blizzard conditions with my daughter to the LSU lakes, building a snowman and the sheer wonder of it all. One moment, however, will likely stick with me the most as the weeks turn to months and the months turn to years and I remember this event. It happened the day after the big snow, which led to an accumulation of more snow than I ever dreamed possible in south Louisiana. On that morning, I had recovered from my astonishment of the previous day and was going through the normal motions of getting ready for work. As I do on most mornings, I paused to look out my bathroom window. It has an unremarkable view of our small backyard, but I love it anyway — especially in the winter, with its long morning shadows when our neighbors’ trees are bare, and through the branches, I can see beyond the fence to watch the sun creeping in over the LSU lakes. Long ago. I read somewhere that looking into the morning sun without one’s glasses (or through glass of any sort) was a good thing. So, most mornings, regardless of temperature, I take a few moments and open the window and look toward the lakes. Usually, I don’t even notice the ubiquitous bustle of people getting ready for their day. Cars zoom toward LSU. Hundreds of people walk along the edge of the lakes. Buses bounce toward campus. Students rev up their motorcycles. There’s a lot going on. On Jan. 22, the day after the big snow, I stood at that window, marveling at the visual spectacle of our snow-covered yard, roof, trees and fence. With the extreme cold, I considered whether or not I should push the window open. Eventually, I decided, “Why not?” I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When I opened the window, what I heard — or rather, what I didn’t hear — astonished me. It was silent. Not a peep from the birds. Not a car driving down the road. Not the mumble of walkers’ voices. No motorcycles. Nothing. That moment was the quietest quiet I can ever remember. I stood there, struck by its beauty, grateful for the experience and actively trying to take it in. I couldn’t help but smile and remember a childhood story written by Benjamin Elkin about a noisy young prince named Hulla-Baloo, who lived in Hub-Bub, the noisiest city in the world. Prince Hulla-Baloo loved a ruckus — whatever noise he and his friends could make with pots, pans, whistles, drums, bugles, trash cans, whatever. No noise was loud enough for the prince. For his birthday, he asked his father, the king, for the loudest noise in the world. He wanted every person to yell — all at once. The king sent out a proclamation and organized just the thing his son requested. But when the moment comes, the prince, the king and everyone else decided that they would enjoy the show. Instead of a cacophony, a scene unfolds much like the snowy Wednesday morning I enjoyed in January. Rather than participate in the noise, the prince and everyone else decided to be quiet so they could hear the melee. Instead of tumult and commotion, they ended up experiencing complete quiet. And, the prince loved it. The mo-
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