Happy Monday you beautiful otters, Spiess in the Morning broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next to the swamp in the heart of the North Star State.
I know, I know. Monday doesn’t always get the warmest welcome.
It’s the soggy cereal of the week—the alarm clock you didn’t ask for.
But I’ve been thinking…
Maybe Monday’s not the problem.
Maybe we’ve just forgotten how to say hello to it properly.
Because the truth is, Monday doesn’t come with a grudge.
It comes with opportunity.
It’s the blank page.
The fresh start.
The big inhale before the next chapter of your story begins.
And yeah, I get it—
The to-do list is already longer than a Dakota sunset.
There’s emails, errands, things that were due last week…
And still, here we are.
You. Me.
Breathing.
Heart ticking.
Sky turning from slate to blue like it always does.
That’s something.
That’s everything.
So what if today… just today…
We kick off Monday not with dread, but with gratitude?
Not with “Ugh,” but with “Okay—let’s see what this one’s got.”
Start small.
Thank your knees for bending.
Your lungs for inflating.
That first sip of coffee? That’s a miracle in a mug.
The way the sunlight sneaks through the blinds just right? That’s nature’s wink.
And if you're heading to work, well—thank you.
The gears don’t turn without people who show up.
If you're home, raising kids, fixing a fence, folding laundry—thank you.
The world doesn’t function without care.
We spend so much time looking toward Friday that we forget:
Monday is where it starts.
Where hope gets dressed.
Where dreams put their boots on.
So here’s a thought—
Today, be someone’s good moment.
Hold a door.
Share a smile.
Send a text that just says “thinking of you.”
Because that ripple, that one act of grace—
Might just be the thing that changes someone’s whole week.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone listening that Mondays don’t have to be heavy. They can be holy. Not because of what you do, but how you begin.
So breathe deep. Step forward.
And let the week unfold like a map you haven’t read yet—
Full of promise, mystery… and maybe, just maybe, a little magic.
Spiess in the Morning broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next ot the swamp from the land of otters and honesty, where the sun rises slow and truth moves even slower.
Here’s a question for you otters. You ever get surprise-attacked by a loon?
Our good friend Ari did.
She was just out for a peaceful kayak paddle the other day—early morning, glassy water, one of those moments where you remember what summer was invented for—and then out of nowhere… bam! A torpedo with feathers came screaming across the reeds. And not just once. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was a double tap. A parental warning shot with precision and intent.
Now, Ari’s fine—just a bruised ego, a couple loon marks on body and a story she’ll be telling for the next 10 Fourth of Julys—but it got me thinking. It’s that time of year again, folks. Nesting season.
And I don’t mean the Pinterest version with throw pillows and freshly baked zucchini bread. I mean the wild, sharp-clawed, beady-eyed, “stay-away-from-my-babies” kind of nesting.
I’ve seen it all out there this week—goslings waddling like they own the roadside, ducklings barely bigger than walnuts trying to cross in single file, and even a pair of swans parading their puffball brigade like royalty down the Pelican River.
Last week I saw three baby otters in the Pelican River bobbing their heads like apples at a Halloween party. You wouldn’t notice them unless you were really looking. And that’s just the thing… they see you before you see them.
And when they do? They don’t ask questions. They defend. Instinct. No warning labels, no “proceed with caution” signs. Just feathers, fur, and fangs.
For me and my trusted companion Gouda, we left the scene, respected the Otter’s lair. Otters can crush clams with their jaws and will attack alligators just for fun. Otters are your best friend and worst enemy all wrapped in oily fur.
Ari on the other hand, didn’t see the babies near and protector protecting.
See, we think we’re just out there enjoying nature, being friendly hikers or hobby kayakers, catching sun and peace—but to the wildlife, we’re intruders, even threats. And when it comes to their young, especially this time of year, everything is threat-level midnight.
So, a friendly PSA from the local area broadcasting shed, I mean spectacular studios next to the swamp:
🚫 Don’t approach baby animals, no matter how cute they are.
🚫 Don’t get between mom and the little ones, even accidentally.
🚫 And if you’re on the water—give those reeds space. That’s prime nursery territory.
It’s not about fear—it’s about respect. Co-existence. Understanding that nature doesn’t owe us access, and sometimes the best thing we can do is admire from afar.
Because nature is doing her thing out there. Raising the next generation. Teaching survival. Singing lullabies in loon calls and discipline in divebombs. She’s fierce and soft all at once, and if you’re lucky enough to see her in that mode, don’t take it for granted.
And hey—if you do find yourself on the receiving end of a loon assault, like Ari—maybe that’s just nature’s way of reminding you… you’re in her world now.
Stay aware out there, Otters. This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone listening that the wild doesn’t knock. It flies. It bites. It protects. And it still has lessons to teach us—if we’re humble enough to listen.
Today is National Be Someone Day—but let’s get something straight from the jump: the best someone you can be… is yourself.
We live in a world that sells mirrors more than maps. Social media’s got us all trying to reflect someone else’s success, copy someone else’s confidence, echo someone else’s style. Somewhere along the way, we stopped asking who we are—and started asking who we should be like.
We tell our kids to look up to heroes. And sure, role models matter. But there’s a difference between inspiration and imitation. You can admire a lighthouse without living your life trying to become a blinking tower of stone.
Because here’s the thing, Otters—when you try to be someone else, you don’t just lose yourself… you start walking a path that doesn’t fit your feet. Your words feel borrowed. Your clothes wear you. Your goals become ghosts, and even when you reach them, you don’t feel anything.
That emptiness? That weightless fog? That’s called ennui—a French word, fancy as it sounds, that means a slow-burning sadness wrapped in boredom. It’s the soul’s way of saying, “This isn’t my life.”
I’ve felt it. You’ve probably felt it. That quiet questioning. That dull ache behind the eyes when you realize you’ve been chasing someone else’s dream, saying someone else’s lines, living on autopilot just to keep up. And the worst part? You can fool everyone—except yourself.
National Be Someone Day isn’t about becoming a celebrity. It’s not about being a better version of someone else. It’s about being a better version of you.
And that ain’t easy. Being yourself means facing your flaws and fears without costume or script. It means knowing who you are in a world that’s constantly trying to tell you who you’re not. It means showing up real in a society that filters everything—even feelings.
But when you start walking your own trail instead of someone else’s? That’s when your voice stops echoing—and starts resonating. That’s when your laugh is real, your tears make sense, and your victories feel earned.
So today, don’t try to be the loudest, the coolest, or the most-followed. Be the you-est you there is. Weird, wild, wounded and whole. Your truth has more value than a thousand polished imitations.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone listening that being someone doesn’t mean being someone else. It means finally being the one person this world has never had before…
You.
Aloha my beautiful Otters. Guess what.
Fear can move mountains. It can also build forts. It can reshape a town, rewrite a family’s history, and, if you’re not careful, make a man dance to a tune he never meant to follow.
Take a drive out to Underwood, Minnesota. Quiet little place. A couple churches, a co-op, a diner or two. But just outside town stands something that’s been there a long time—a fort. Weathered, proud, old bones of timber and stubbornness. Built not because anyone came, but because someone said they might.
The fear back then was Native Americans. The frontier myth was alive and well, stoked by newspaper men with shaky sources and politicians needing a reason for folks to stay busy. So the settlers picked up axes, planks, and rifles, and they built that fort. Day after day. Rain or shine. Sweat in their eyes, calluses on their hands, and a sense of purpose in their hearts.
But no attack ever came.
And that’s the catch, Otters. Because fear doesn’t need reality. It just needs repetition. A whisper here. A warning there. A headline. A sermon. A shaking voice at the town hall. A hysterical mother allowing fear to take over her future.
Before long, you’re out building a fortress for an enemy who may not even exist—not because of what’s true, but because of what’s been suggested.
And people wonder why I ditched my television set back in 2006. Not wanting my child to grow up in a house where a repetition of fear-laiden messages is the central theme of the ditch.
And who benefits from that fear? The ones who stoked it. The pied pipers. They rise while the rest dig ditches. They collect power while others gather stones. They gaslight the laborers into believing it was always necessary. “You were brave,” they say. “You stood up to the danger.” But was there ever any danger at all?
It’s not just Underwood. That story has played out across centuries, countries, and cultures. The Salem witch trials. The Red Scare. War after war, campaign after campaign. We are told to fear—our neighbors, the outsider, the unknown—and in our panic, we give away more than we realize. Time. Energy. Freedom. Power.
Fear doesn’t just move mountains. It carves them into thrones.
And if you think we’ve grown out of that? Scroll your feed. Watch a few headlines crawl across your screen. Fear is slicker now, packaged with music and branding, but the notes are the same: “They’re coming for you.” “They’ll take what’s yours.” “Better build that fort.”
But maybe—just maybe—it’s time to ask who handed us the hammer?
We can’t change the past, Otters. The fort still stands. And maybe in some way, it still serves as a symbol of our willingness to protect what we love. But we’d do well to remember the cost of fear—and the profits it can generate for those who manufacture it.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone listening, not every warning cry is meant to save you. Sometimes it’s just a tune… played by a piper you never meant to follow.
Otter and Out.
The Otter’s Almanac: Headlines, History & Hometown News
🛣️ County Seeks Input on Developing Safer Roads
Just this weekend, Otter Tail County launched an interactive Safety Action Plan portal—as part of the federal Safe Streets & Roads for All initiative—inviting locals to mark intersections, bike paths, and walkways in need of improvements. It’s all about making our roads safer for drivers, walkers, and cyclists alike.
🎪 100th East Otter Tail County Fair Kicks Off
Tonight marks the start of the centennial East Otter Tail County Fair in Perham, running July 21–25. The lineup begins with an evening picnic at 5:30 p.m., followed by a military & historical tribute at 7 p.m., and headliners Williams & Ree taking the stage at 8 p.m. Admission runs $10–$12—historical vibes and fairground fun guaranteed.
💰 Online county property auction opens
The latest round of online bidding for tax-forfeited parcels is now live—offering farmland, lakeshore plots, and development land to interested buyers.
🏪 Local Spotlight: Scout & Mill General Store in Perham
Right next to the fairgrounds, Scout & Mill General Store is turning heads with its rustic charm and coffee served all day. Pick up fresh locally roasted roasts, homemade cinnamon rolls, and quirky Otter Tail souvenirs. Whether you’re fueling up before carnival rides or winding down after a show, this one's got your back.
🕰️ A Day in Otter Tail History
On July 21, 1910, the first organized East Otter Tail County Fair was held in Perham under the county Agricultural Society banner. What began as a modest local showcase of livestock and produce has grown over a century into tonight’s grand centennial celebration.
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👑 East Otter Tail County Fair (Perham) – July 24–27
Head east a few miles and time bends in Perham for the East Otter Tail County Fair. A twin sibling to its western cousin, but like any twin—it’s got its own voice. There’s livestock, sure, but there’s also laughter under the grain bins, and the kind of warmth you can’t program into an app. It’s honest. It’s home.
🤪 Vergas Looney Days – August 11–13
But maybe you’re feeling a little... looney? That’s okay. Embrace it. The folks in Vergas certainly do. Every August, the town throws Looney Days, a celebration that dances joyfully on the fine line between silly and sublime. We’re talking water-ski shows, dachshund races, and street dances where even your uncle who hasn’t moved since ‘84 remembers how to boogie. Vergas isn’t just leaning into the looney—it’s leading the parade.
🦦 OtterFest (Ottertail) – August 12
Then there’s OtterFest in the town of Ottertail. A little quieter. More music than mayhem. It’s the perfect spot to bring a lawn chair, a blanket, and a beer—and just listen. Maybe talk to a stranger. Maybe don’t. OtterFest gives you permission to just... be.
Kate’s Korner Antiques & Collectables is open for the season in Elizabeth! Located across the street from the liquor store on Hwy 59, Kate’s Korner is a must stop and see. If you see the flags flapping in the wind, she’s open and ready to serve your nostalgic needs.
Paul’s Farm Fresh Eggs - $3/dozen - call or text 218-205-7779 (The Greater Elizabeth Area)
Abbie’s Farm Fresh Eggs - $9 for 30 eggs - washed or unwashed - call or text 320-349-0942 (The Greater Morris Area)
IBC Totes for sale - Endless uses for these totes from firewood storage to rainwater catcher to stacking two for an outdoor shower. Pick up encouraged, delivery available. Food grade are $100 each and non-food grade are $65 each. Call 218-639-1116
The Shoreline Bowling Alley in Battle Lake has open bowling All Summer Long. Call 218-864-5265 for more info or stop by 505 N Lake Ave, Battle Lake, MN.
The Bookmobile has books, movies & magazines to check out, but the Bookmobile and member libraries also offer a wide variety of electronic resources including Ebooks, downloadable audiobooks, streaming movies, TV and music, and a wide variety of educational databases and distance learning resources.
The Bookmobile stops across from the Parkers Prairie Post Office every other Wednesday throughout the year. You can find the Bookmobile there from 3 pm to 4 pm.
The Bookmobile stops in Elizabeth, only this stop isn’t at the community center or the public park, rather it’s a private house. Next stop is July 3 in Elizabeth and it’s a block north of the C-Store on the gravel road, or 206 N Pelican Street, for you GPS folk.
Check out more Bookmobile towns by clicking here
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Please tune in tomorrow for more local lakes area tunes, totally tubular tales, and some small-town smiles.
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