The Yellow Dog Plains is an area north and west of Marquette, Michigan, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, United States. The Yellow Dog River flows through it, as does the Salmon Trout River. The Salmon Trout River is unique in that it has a breeding population of coasters, a potamodramous form of brook trout. Coasters are virtually extinct from their native range on the south coast of Lake Superior, except for the Salmon Trout River. The Yellow Dog Plains is a remote and virtually untouched wilderness, aside from large scale logging operations. There are extensive forests of Eastern white pine, with reports of some of the trees in the Yellow Dog Plains reaching heights of 31 meters.
Kennecott Minerals Corporation, a subsidiary of Rio Tinto, is currently considering opening a nickel-copper mine in the Yellow Dog Plains. The plan, called the Eagle Project by Kennecott, has garnered both local support and opposition. Proponents claim that the mine would produce jobs, while the opposition claims the mine would produce irreversible environmental damage.
Famous quotes containing the words yellow, dog and/or plains:
“Tom: All right, boys. C’mon. Why don’t you say I’m a yellow belly and a big mouth at that?
Shep: You yellow? Who thinks you’re yellow? Did you hear what he said? A guy who’s got the nerve to marry? That’s more than Flash Gordon ever did.”
—Billy Wilder (b. 1906)
“Quarrel not at all. No man resolved to make the most of himself, can spare time for personal contention. Still less can he afford to take all the consequences, including the vitiating of his temper, and the loss of self-control. Yield larger things to which you can show no more than equal right; and yield lesser ones, though clearly your own. Better give your path to a dog, than be bitten by him in contesting for the right. Even killing the dog would not cure the bite.”
—Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865)
“We hold on to hopes for next year every year in western Dakota: hoping that droughts will end; hoping that our crops won’t be hailed out in the few rainstorms that come; hoping that it won’t be too windy on the day we harvest, blowing away five bushels an acre; hoping ... that if we get a fair crop, we’ll be able to get a fair price for it. Sometimes survival is the only blessing that the terrifying angel of the Plains bestows.”
—Kathleen Norris (b. 1947)