The Wiccan’s Backyard

Post Cards from Durham, Part i

Durham, Ontario, is a community of about 2500 people in Grey County, 25 miles south of Owen Sound. E.g. and I were up there for a day in mid-December. Here are three photos, with three more to come in tomorrow’s posting.

1. This is a mural on the main street. The banner reads, “Remembering Saugeen Country Our Heritage” . The many-branched Saugeen River runs throughout Grey County; E.g. and I took a two-day canoe trip on part of it a few years ago. The legend beneath the cameo identifies the sideburned gentleman as “Archibald Hunter, the Founder of Durham.” What I really like about this mural is its trompe-l’oeil effect; even the crooked parking sign seems to blend in with the split-rail fence.

2. There is a malicious rumour, started by some anonymous turtle, that there has been no eavestrougher in the region for about five years now. If you’re skilled in the trade and between jobs, now is your chance.

No such luck if you repair televisions for a living, however; when the reception gets bad, people around here just call the Saugeen Conservation Authority.

One for Gina, One for Pennycat, and One for Seabrooke

We continue our series of snapshots dedicated to blogfriends. But we begin at the beginning of the photos, all of which were shot on the same day. Today’s selection shows what we saw out the window when we woke up on the final morning of our three-day car trip to Saint John.

We had stayed at the Comfort Inn, our favourite motel (reasonable rates, consistent quality, usually accepts pets, lower floor has sliding glass door for quick potties ) . It had just begun to snow in Rivière-du-Loup when we had pulled up at 4 pm. The BIG SNOW. We had watched the weather channel that evening, in awe that we had driven just ahead of the closure of a long strip of the main (main? the only! ) highway.

When we had brought our luggage in through the sliding glass door before supper, the sidewalk was clear. We woke up to this:

This picture’s for you, Gina. I must tell you that the snow was light and fluffy, quite easy to brush off the car. It was, however, almost up to my knees, so I’m thinking of the view Mandy and Tuffy would have had (and Patrick and Jackson, if their mum is reading this) :

“Oh, Mama, you can’t be serious!”

But never fear, little puppies, rescue is at hand. Looking slightly to the right, we could see this scene:

Let’s zoom in a little, shall we? This one’s for Pennycat, who lo-oves tractors.

You can ignore the tarped-over cabin cruisers across the road if you’d like, Pennycat. Although the town of Rivière-du-Loup means “Wolf River” (romantic name!) , it is situated on a much larger river: the Saint Lawrence. Hence the boat store.

Okay, that’s straight ahead, to the right — what did we see on the left? Our room was at the far end of the building, so we were lucky to have a view of a shrubbery:

Not much of a photo or scene, with its flash on the window and pile of dirty snow. But this is Seabrooke’s picture, and here’s why:

The wind was howling, the snow was swirling, and here she was, this little House Sparrow, riding the rocking branch and (I suppose) breakfasting on dried berries.

One for Huckleberry

E.g. and I drove to Saint John, New Brunswick and back over the winter holidays. We had a very nice visit with her parents. Over the next few days, I’m going to share a few photos, and dedicate them to blogfriends. Just for fun.

Today’s photo is of a bird. It was moving fairly quickly when I took this shot. I wasn’t actually concentrating on the bird; I just thought it would add a bit of interest to the highway picture.

 

When I zoomed in on the photo tonight, I wondered. Could this be a Bald Eagle? We didn’t even know there were any Bald Eagles down east until we saw one on our drive home. Whatever it is, it’s definitely a raptor. Or maybe a raven. Or possibly a crow. Or a blue jay with attitude. What do you make of it, Huckleberry?

New Year’s Day Wish

May all your gaps be leapable.

Fifteen Starlings and a Crane

At 08 00 I was out with Cai in front of our building, and heard a nice chorus of Starlings. I know they’re an invasive (in the corporate world, it would be called “successful”) species, but their merry chuckles, whistles, and cat imitations bring a smile to the dark winter months.

Anyway, there they were, on the tip of a crane: today’s post, there for the taking.

I brought Cai back in. Attaching the long lens to the camera, I had the presence of mind to climb the floors (there are six) of our building rather than return to the ground. At each railing, however, I found fewer birds, and surrounding buildings got in the way as well. Today’s snapshot, then, was taken from the third floor.

At 08 23 I was out with Fergus in front of our building, and there was only one Starling left.

Winter at Grenadier Pond

We took the dogs to High Park yesterday morning. We went to check out Grenadier Pond to see who might be on it. No one was on the ice at its southern end, but the open, reedy northern end had a few friendly faces.

The pond, looking west. Wait — who’s that on the water?

Check it out, it’s an American Coot!

Here’s that tight-knit group of Mallards and mega-Mallard mixes who live here all year round. The one in front of them, though…

No upward curl on the tailfeathers, no white on the speculum (shoulder patch), quite a bit darker than the female Mallard… I think we’ve got an American Black Duck here.

This grouping is properly called a raft, but I’d like to call them a duck jam. And you are…?

Ah! Northern Shovelers! You can see the water lapping over Mrs Shoveler’s bill as she wiggles it back and forth to strain tiny food particles.

Farther from shore is another, smaller, raft. Pretty sure they’re…

Yep! Those cute little diving ducks, the Buffleheads! Here’s a male. They’re black and white, but some of the black reflects nice irridescent colours.

Uh-oh. That swan is peeved about being saved till last. Hey, Shovelers, duck!

Wet Above, Wet Below

Hello, blogfriends! Here are a few photos from yesterday. It was raining, and the dogs were bored, so E.g. and I decided that if everyone was going to be wet anyway, we might as well take them to the beach. (Interestingly enough, unlike the trip to a dog park commemorated by a blurp photo, neither Cai nor Fergus made any post-beach regurgitations. )

The Longtailed Ducks, returning from up north, are back in Toronto for the winter.

This thing was just left hanging, presumably all weekend. Do you ever feel like that?

Fergus and Cai in the backseat, with a blanket over them both. They snoozed while E.g. popped in for some groceries.

The Longtails again. I was really pleased with this photo. Oh, and, yes, the horizon of Lake Ontario isn’t level… Oops… well, whatever.

Four Short Hikes

I’ve earned my badges!

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I like hiking. On our trip to Bon Echo Park last week, despite running back and forth on sick puppy business, I managed four of Bon Echo’s trails. I was surprised at how different they were, even though they were all relatively short and within a three-kilometre-square piece of land.

1. High Pines Trail (1.6 km)

If you look at the photo, the High Pines Trail is the pink loop that begins at the lower right-hand corner of the High Pines badge. I loved it! Forget the Grandes Eaux Musicales de Versailles, this was the most musical walk I’ve ever had. The air rang with the flutey songs of Hermit Thrushes and Veeries, the long whistle of Broad-winged Hawks, the complaint of Eastern Wood Peewees, the “T-shirt! T-shirt!” call of Ovenbirds (I think it sounds like a spraypaint can being shaken), and the rap-tappings of various piciformes. I saw a pair of them on a pine, and was convinced that they weren’t Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers. If they were the Black-backed Woodpeckers I think they were, they’re a first for my life-list.

The hike went up hill and down, never hard enough to necessitate grabbing a small tree for support. Cai was my only companion, and he and a doe startled each other at the top. The doe stepped back a few paces, and Cai kept looking over his shoulder as we continued.

2. The Bon Echo Creek Trail (1 km)

The web of broken squiggly lines between the High Pines badge and the Creek badge represents the Mazinaw Lake campground. The blue line bordering the southwest of the campground is Bon Echo Creek. Between the creek and the road that parallels it is a red dotted line I added with marker. This is the Bon Echo Creek Trail. I would heartily recommend it as a preschooler’s first-ever hiking trail. 

This is no baby-buggy road, but a real trail. It begins at the road, and runs toward Mazinaw Lake. Near the beginning is a small rise; after that the trail is straight and level, with the road only steps away if the child wearies or gets a boo-boo. The trail is lined with ferns and young trees, and offers glimpses of the creek through the leaves. At the end of the trail is a little footbridge that leads back into the campground — or if you’re Cai, you’ll turn right and pull mummy straight over to the dog beach.

3. Pet Exercise Trail (2.4 km)

If you follow the road that parallels the Creek Trail, you’ll eventually come to the day-use parking area. Just beyond that is the off-leash doggie trail. Again, I’ve added it onto the map, to the left of the Creek badge. The shape and size is a guestimate, but it takes into account the steep rise and descent.

Once again, this is a real hiking trail, with muddy bits and a swampy bit and lots of woods and the usual number of mosquitoes. I applied some holistic rosemary-oil doggie bug repellant to Cai (and myself), and didn’t find the bugs annoying at all. And Cai? Oh, those shining eyes! He was absolutely thrilled to be off leash in such an interesting area. What fascinated me was that he only left the trail once; mostly he stayed on track, sniffing and splishing and giving his legs a good stretch. The park guide suggests an hour for this trail, but we were through it in 25 minutes. Then we headed to the dog beach for some bobbing-for-balls. Happy dog!

4. The Shield Trail (4.8 km)

So far, each of the trails I’ve discussed took me half the length of their suggested time. Not so the Shield Trail. It suggests two hours; I did it — with neither dog nor human for companion — in 110 minutes. And it’s not because I was lingering!

I was glad to have the Shield Trail guide booklet with me. The booklet focusses on the previous use of this area: it was a farm. The trail starts on the old Addington Road, 90 km of 19th-century rut. Turning aside from an unsuccessful exploratory mine pit (mining didn’t “pan out” here either), one heads into a 100-acre tract of government-issued “free farmland” that was supposed to bribe settlers into staying in Canada. The land was simply surveyed for size, not for feasibility: this is soil-poor Canadian Shield.

I kept walking, shaking my head, wondering how long these settlers toughed it out before running away screaming. I would have run myself, except that the final quarter of the trail is a line of bushel-basket-sized boulders. And from starting out as a confident rosemary-oil-scented bugproof hiker, I finished as a blood pizza. The silence was deafening: where were all the birds? I finally decided that the mosquitoes and deer flies had chased them all away. All in all, it was the most depressing trail I’ve ever hiked – which added the perfect atmosphere of authenticity to the  trail guide’s history lesson.

Breakfast Club

Back on March 21, the Black-capped Chickadees and Downy Woodpeckers were emptying the feeders, and only the cedars were green.

Sometimes I can smell seasons. This morning is one of those times. On my way over to Robert and Jane’s place to catsit, I could smell Spring. The air is cool, not quite 10 (50) degrees, and damp from yesterday’s downpour; the Crabapples are in full bloom; and the maples are replacing their delicate green bobbly bits with translucent young leaves. Scent is spilling out from sidewalks as each corner grocer displays hundreds of potted plants.

For a while last week, I was afraid we were going to miss out on Spring, just as we were cheated out of Autumn. It went from too hot to snowbound in about two days’ time, and then as soon as the snow melted we were handed unseasonably warm, dry weather. We Canadians like to joke that we have two seasons, Winter and July (or Winter and Construction if you’re a driver), but I think most of us enjoy the buffers between the two extremes.

Anyway, today is a perfect Spring day. And tomorrow I will bring my binoculars! There were three types of sparrows feeding at the suet block next door when I arrived.

The White-crowned Sparrows were encouraging conversation, saying, “Speak! Speak!”

The House Sparrows chuckled, “Ju-jube!” in reply.

The White-throated Sparrows, pushing back from the feeder, sang out “O sweet Canada, Canada, Canada!”

Then an alarmist Starling started spitting, “Ca-a-at! Ca-a-at!” and the party broke up for a moment. But the sparrows were soon back. Robert and Jane’s cats don’t do fences, much less tree limbs. They were simply out for a post-breakfast sniff, to sit in the back yard and enjoy this fine morning as much as I am.