Those who hunt morel mushrooms know to study each scene from several perspectives before deeming it unworthy of further attention.
Maybe that's why those who worked with wildlife researcher Kent Klepinger of Stoughton still admire the tireless mushroom hunter nearly 20 years after he retired from the Wisconsin Conservation Department and Department of Natural Resources. Klepinger, who died April 22 at age 73 while driving home from Florida, was known for his patient faith in people and their perspectives throughout his 33 years of public service.
Although well-schooled in biology and administrative law, Klepinger was just as likely to wield humor, humility and loyalty when crafting public policy. And even if many hunters and trappers haven't heard of Klepinger, we've benefited from his labors, large and small.
For instance, you know those managed goose hunts at Horicon Marsh, where you go to assigned blinds and pray for honkers to pass within range? If you were around in 1957 when the state first hired Klepinger, he was likely the guy who assigned your spot.
His impact and importance grew from there. Before long he was helping the state acquire the properties that created the Eldorado Marsh, Grand River Marsh and White River wildlife areas in central Wisconsin. And once in the agency's central office in Madison, Klepinger became a skilled, popular administrator in the DNR's bureau of wildlife management, including a nearly 10-year stint directing the agency's research bureau until his retirement in 1990.
In addition, Klepinger hired the DNR's first female wildlife manager in 1977, and worked with the University of Wisconsin to conduct some of the nation's most in-depth research into hunters and hunting activities.
"Klep was tuned into people and the sociology of hunting," said retired DNR biologist Dave Gjestson of Mineral Point, who worked several years for Klepinger. "He championed hunters and hunting rights. By using research to explore hunter attitudes and motivations, he made sure they weren't customers in name only. He reminded everyone above and below him that hunters were the ones paying the bills."
Another retired biologist, Carl Batha of Dodgeville, recalled how Klepinger mastered all aspects of his job. "We all laughed years ago when a state audit said the DNR needed more attorneys," Batha said. "Kent knew state code and administrative law backward and forward. He even helped our attorneys understand what was there and what wasn't."
Gjestson also recalled Klepinger's loyalty to his staff and their field work. "No one could accuse him of being an elitist, even though he started the trend of hiring people with master's degrees," Gjestson said. "He knew how easy it was to sit in the central office in Madison and grow detached from the real world. He believed in field experience and supporting his people."
That meant Klepinger protected his staff from his superiors. "He defended the weaker managers who weren't Madison's fair-haired boys," Gjestson said. "He thoroughly believed that you don't build yourself up by tearing down someone who's vulnerable. Kent's principles were right."
What's the source of those principles and his sense of humor? Maybe it was the Ohio farm where Klepinger grew up. He liked to tell how he drove the tractor to school because he didn't have access to a car. He recalled what happened when he asked a girl to be his date for a school dance. She rejected him coldly: "Not with you, Tractor Boy."
Years later when Klepinger took up wine-making, his bottles bore the label "Tractor Boy."
Throughout life, his generosity rivaled his humor. For example, since retiring 18 years ago, he hunted morel mushrooms every spring in Indiana, Ohio, Michigan and Wisconsin.
"He'd find them by the bushel," Gjestson said. "Each year about this time you'd hear an unexpected knock and Klep would be standing there with morels."
But this spring many Midwestern morels will go unpicked. Never again will friends expect the fruit of Klepinger's keen perspectives when hearing unannounced visitors at their door.