North Shore Country Club, IL

“Trout is like the canary in the coal mine. They do not tolerate polluted water.”

Dan Dinelli

North Shore Country Club

Glenview, Illinois

Private Course

Trout in the Ponds, Hawks in the Trees

Long before the first golfer arrives, superintendent Dan Dinelli steps outside into the early morning air. The sunlight is still gentle, and the world feels hushed. Walking along the dew-kissed fairways, he takes in a view that most guests never see: red-tailed hawks circling overhead, watching for prey beneath the greens; earthworms silently working the soil; rainbow trout gliding in the ponds, their presence signaling pristine water quality. It’s not simply scenic—it’s a sign that the land he cares for is functioning as a healthy ecosystem.

“Trout is like the canary in the coal mine. They do not tolerate polluted water,” Dinelli says. Their thriving population means his careful management is paying off. He takes pride in these subtle indicators. To him, the course is not just an arena for play; it’s a living laboratory where biodiversity takes center stage. Under the surface, soil microbes and fungal biomass build topsoil and sequester carbon, providing the turf with a natural resilience. “We have a lot to be proud of in the turf grass systems,” he adds. In fact, he views the land much like a farmer views a field—something to be nurtured, year after year, for long-term health.

Trout swimming in clear waters, highlighting their role as indicators of a healthy ecosystem.

This pride stems partly from how differently he sees his job compared to popular misconceptions. Golf courses often carry an environmental stigma, but Dinelli challenges that narrative. Unlike annual row crops requiring frequent tilling and risk erosion, turf grass is a perennial system stabilizing the soil year-round. “Our soil is completely covered with biomass,” he explains. “we actually build topsoil in a turf grass system. We actually store carbon.”

Standing near the ponds, watching hawks soar and feeling the damp morning breeze, Dinelli sees the fruits of his labor made visible in the life that chooses to call this place home. He comes from a lineage of land managers—his father was also a superintendent—and feels connected not just to this single property but to a tradition of stewardship. “I appreciate all the wildlife,” he says, from worms and beneficial microbes to pollinators and predators at the top of the food chain. The presence of hawks, trout, and abundant soil life affirms that a well-tended golf course can be a haven for both human recreation and the natural world. In these quiet morning hours, the course is a symphony of life, and Dinelli is its humble conductor.

Balancing Stewardship with Players’ Expectations

When golfers arrive later in the day, their focus often lies on the greens, the neat edges of the bunkers, and the smooth fairways that challenge their skill. Dinelli understands this—it’s his job to deliver world-class playing conditions. Yet he also knows that meeting these expectations does not have to come at the environment’s expense. Instead of viewing ecological stewardship and member satisfaction as opposing forces, he sees them as complementary.

“To me, balance means there's opposing things–trying to find equilibrium,” he says. “It’s just a natural spin-off of what we emphasize.” His approach weaves careful environmental practices into the very fabric of course management. Take his composting initiative, for example. Every day, Dinelli and his team collect kitchen scraps—vegetable trimmings, fruit peels—from the clubhouse. “Why throw something that's valuable out in the waste stream when you can utilize it? Just a little effort and make something good out of it, right?” he asks. These scraps and spent grain from local microbreweries feed the soil’s microbial life, eventually producing a richer, more balanced substrate for the turf.

This approach reduces the need for chemical interventions. Rather than dousing problem spots with pesticides as a last resort, Dinelli invests in preventive measures. He encourages beneficial microbes and fungi, cultivates nutrient-rich compost, and fine-tunes irrigation to support turf health. “It’s fun to put these pieces together,” he says. “It’s like a big puzzle…but it never ends.”

Engaging the Community and Promoting Stewardship

Educating members is also key. Dinelli regularly hosts open houses, inviting golfers, their families, and community members to see behind the scenes. They visit the greenhouse, learn about composting, and discover how a healthier soil system can mean more consistent playing surfaces. “All it takes is a little education and awareness,” he says, noting that the women and children, in particular, ask the most curious questions and walk away with a new perspective.

“I have a captive audience,” Dinelli says. Unlike nature centers, where visitors are already interested in ecology, golf courses attract people who might not have considered the complexity behind the scenes. “They are usually movers and shakers, you know, because [it’s] a private golf course, and a lot of these people are very successful. I feel like I can take advantage of the exposure a little bit to that group of people that hopefully grows that appreciation” By sharing knowledge informally—pointing out the hawks, explaining how the trout indicate clean water, or showing how composting supports microbial life—he nudges them toward a deeper appreciation of their environment. There’s no fanfare, no lecturing. Just the quiet, confident demonstration that caring for the course’s ecology is as much a part of the superintendent’s job as cutting the greens.

The Superintendent’s Role as a True Land Steward

For those who suspect that superintendents are simply caretakers of an ornamental landscape, Dinelli’s story offers a counterpoint. He’s not here for superficial greenwashing or empty gestures. He’s a dedicated land steward who works with soil, water, and living organisms, guiding them toward balance and resilience. “I want to believe that all land managers, at some degree, are conservationists, are stewards of the land,” he reflects.

What sets his approach apart is the authenticity of his efforts. Rather than chase quick fixes, he embraces integrated pest management (IPM), focusing on building systemic resilience so the turf can withstand pressures with minimal chemical intervention. He likens it to human health: “These biological approaches create resiliency because they address the infrastructure,” he explains. Just as a healthy diet and exercise prevent illness better than constant medication, strong soil biology prevents severe disease outbreaks better than repeated pesticide applications.

Dinelli also recognizes the misconceptions people hold about golf courses. Some see them as water-intensive or pesticide-laden, but he demonstrates that a course can serve as an environmental asset by showcasing trout in the ponds and hawks in the trees. Change minds by sharing the reality: green spaces like well-managed golf courses help filter pollutants, store carbon, and create habitats for wildlife. Superintendents, like farmers, invest in the long-term health of their “crop”—in this case, turf grass—while also caring for their community’s well-being.

“We’re still here to golf,” Dinelli says.

It’s an invitation to look closer, to appreciate the quiet, persistent work done by people who take their stewardship seriously. He wants people to understand that superintendents are hardworking individuals who view their responsibility as akin to that of a farmer nurturing fields—hands-on, continuous, and grounded in reality.

In the end, Dinelli’s efforts are proof that beauty, recreation, and ecological responsibility need not be at odds. His voice—and the voices of superintendents like him—deserves to be heard. They’re not here to boast or judge; they’re here to steward, to sustain, and to show that a golf course can be a place where nature and play reinforce each other. It’s the kind of quiet, diligent care that transforms a piece of land into a vibrant ecosystem, one that golfers and wildlife alike can share.

By Andi Hayes and David Santos