Just because I plan to take it a bit easy on this imminent May Victoria-Day Long Weekend, does not mean that I won’t think ambitious thoughts. Thinking can be very productive. If one can find affirmation in comic strips, here is proof:
Waiting For Opportunity - Calvin & Hobbes
If you are looking for me I’ll be under the fourth tree to the right of the stream.
If you are seeking an appropriate gift for your cat, or a friend’s cat, or a stray cat to which you’ve formed an attachment, consider a gift subscription to this wonderful new magazine.
And if your cat enjoys this magazine, he might also appreciate the humour of Chemistry Cat:
By now I am sure you are catatonic with laughter.
Ciao Meow.
In the Arctic I have seen for myself the impact of climate change. Here is one of many images I captured.
Retreating Greenland Ice - photo by Blake Maybank
Those with their hands on the levers of power continue to dispute, deny, dissemble, or ignore the hard science. And some voices continue to speak of the reality. I draw your attention, therefore, to an article by Christopher Majka*, entitled:
Thermometer rising: Ice, methane and climate change
It is published online at rabble.ca, and you can read the print-friendly version by clicking here.
Afterwards it will be time to have a drink. No ice, please.
*Christopher Majka is a biologist, environmentalist, policy analyst, and arts advocate. He conducts research on the ecology, biodiversity and systematics of invertebrates, particularly beetles. He is a member of the Project Democracy team.
The Nova Scotia Spring Bird Migration Count is a welcome annual ritual, timed for the second Saturday in May.
Pooch Cafe - Bird Migration
The count began in the 1990s, and was initially linked to a more widespread North American effort, but one which fizzled, for reasons I do not recall. The count remained popular in Nova Scotia, and as the observations that we collected were of use to the quarterly bird reports in “Nova Scotia Birds” (the magazine of the Nova Scotia Bird Society), we continued with the count. And we kept the count on the second Saturday, even though at our latitude the arrival of spring migrants does not begin in earnest for another two weeks.
At least, that was the situation then. It is changing.
As our climate changes (and mostly warms – climate change deniers need not read further), birds have begun arriving earlier in Nova Scotia. On any given year this might be hard to observe on the count, as inclement weather can interfere, but this year the evidence would be quite clear, as we were to discover.
My partner for this year’s count was Jim Edsall who, in addition to his skills as a birder, is a bird carver and well-rounded naturalist, with a particular fondness for insects, especially butterflies. (He has kindly provided identifications of many butterflies I photographed on my travels.) I picked him up at his home in Dartmouth at 0430 a.m., and we drove immediately to the western environs of Halifax Regional Municipality (HRM). We were the sole observers in this immense area, which we could never adequately survey, so we had to cherry-pick the best sites.
We started in Jerry Lawrence Provincial Park (formerly, and more accurately known, as Lewis Lake Provincial Park), a lovely picnic-park that straddles two small lakes (Lewis and Round), and borders the BLT Trail (BLT = Beechville Lakeside Timberlea). Being Nova Scotia, the government of which has little money for its parks, the access road to Lewis Lake was still gated, so to survey the park we would have to walk (or run, if the black flies were bad). How bad can the black flies be in Nova Scotia’s woods? Watch and learn.
We were fortunate, as the temperature was cool (4°C), and though winds were light, the black flies had not yet awoken. But the birds had, and as we walked towards the picnic area, through one of the finest areas of hardwood forest in HRM, we enjoyed a great variety of bird song, most being species that were “year-birds” for Jim and I; Ovenbird, Blue-headed Vireo, Northern Parula, Chipping Sparrow, and the incomparable Hermit Thrush.
We did not shoot the above video, of course, but I am including it to provide a flavour of our auditory morning.
By the time we arrived at the road that loops through the picnic area I had become convinced that, not only did Jim know his bird songs well, but that my own hearing ability was presenting slight defects — the higher-pitched tones were becoming fainter, or disappearing altogether, unless I was standing immediately below the singer in question. This was disconcerting, but not entirely unexpected, as there had been a lot of loud rock music in my misspent youth. I am reluctantly coming to the conclusion that my Breeding Bird Survey days are over.
But if I am having more difficulty hearing some parts of nature, I am still able to see it and photograph it. There were mists playing over Lewis Lake, and while Jim kept tallying birds by ear, I began taking some photos. The first was the moody forest reflected in the still waters of Lewis Lake.
Mist Over Lewis Lake - Photo by Blake MaybankLoons were present.
The mists cleared just enough for us to make out the ghostly image of the pair of Common Loons that nest each year on the lake. The birds were silent on this morning, a pity, as I can still easily hear their calls, and nothing says “Canada” more than the cry of a loon.
Jim was perhaps becoming a tad impatient with my photography (he didn’t say so), but I just had to take a few more photos. I was intrigued by an arrow-head image made by a rock’s reflection. . . but it was time to put away my camera to continue our survey.
"Arrowhead" on Lewis Lake - photo by Blake Maybank
We hiked the rough path that connects the picnic site with the BLT Trail, and then wandered west a short distance, hearing more birds, including Chestnut-sided and Nashville Warblers. And the black flies still had not emerged. It was as nice a morning as one could wish for, and we seemed to have the park all to ourselves. It has always been a mystery to me how few people visit Lewis Lake, despite there being a human population of 200,000 within 30 minutes of the park entrance.
We turned to head back to the van, but I stopped long enough to grab a short video of the mist rolling along the surface of Round Lake. Consider this a commercial interlude, brought to you by Nova Scotia.
Lewis Lake is not a grand park, and it relies on subtlety when offering its treasures. There is a modest stream that flows into Round Lake and I have photographed it before, but this time around I thought to try a short video. Does it not babble?
Once back at the van we did our first tally, and learned that we had heard or seen 11 species of warbler, as well as many other species of birds. We considered this a remarkable start, as some years I have been hard pressed to find even a couple of warbler species.
Our next (brief) stop was a marshy area on the edge of Dauphinees Pond, which lies behind a major shopping mall in Tantallon. We were not seeking bargains, however, but were instead interesting in an Osprey nest (occupied by noisy tenants), Red-winged Blackbirds, and Barn Swallows. We tallied all three species, then headed to Pipeline Road, a logging road built (and poorly maintained) by the struggling Bowater-Mersey Forestry company. For the first number of kilometres the road parallels the eastern shores of Sandy and Rafter Lakes, both reservoirs, and passes through a variety of habitats, such that it provides good birding and nature opportunities. Click here for a map showing some of our route — the Pipeline Road is the dashed line on the right side of the map.
We stopped first at Little Indian Lake, which looked quite lovely.
Little Indian Lake, Nova Scotia - photo by Blake Maybank
We stopped here, we stopped there, and imitated chickadees to entice them into view. Warblers and other species would frequently join in to see what the fuss was about. It is hard to describe to a non-naturalist the annual springtime thrill of seeing your first spring warblers arrayed in full breeding plumage. Jim had his camera out now as well, and we both “fired” away, hoping some of the images would “stick”. Some did. Allow me to share a particularly gaudy specimen, a male Black-throated Green Warbler.
Male Black-throated Green Warbler - photo by Blake Maybank
We next encountered something quite unexpected — people. Lots of people, most perspiring heavily, and looking none too pleased about it. We had stumbled upon an organised back-country run, with participants undertaking various loops of different lengths, according to their moods or abilities. And their routes were now over-lapping our bird survey route, but this was not too much of a problem, as the runners were much less obtrusive and annoying than All Terrain Vehicle (ATV) drivers. They were quieter as well, except when they were gasping for breath.
We were able to take short side paths to check for birds, and at one fortuitous stop we were visited by my favourite birds of the northern forests, a pair of Gray Jays. They passed through too quickly for me to grab a photo (though Jim managed one), but I was so pleased with the encounter (as the species is increasingly scarce in warming Nova Scotia forests), that I must share a photo I took at another place and time.
Gray Jay - photo by Blake Maybank
According to the Cree, the Gray Jay is the embodiment of the trickster spirit-being Wisakedjak (wee-sah-keh-chahk), which was roughly anglicized as “Whiskyjack”, a common name for this ghostly denizen of the northern woods. By any name it is a special bird for me, for reasons which I might explain in a later post.
Weather Update: the temperature had risen, and the black flies were out in some force, so I donned my head-net, and persevered with the count.
It was not warm enough, however, to propel any butterflies into action. There were other insects about, both inside and outside the van, and Jim showed an enviable ability to put a name to most of them. This habit of his was admirable to me, though apparently some do not think this kind of knowledge is commendable.
Bug Expert - by "The Other Coast"
Not all the birds we encountered were vibrant with colour, nor were all great songsters. But I managed a photo of a fine (albeit drab-in-appearance) bird, the Ruby-crowned Kinglet. And belying its appearance, it has a great, ringing song.
Ruby-crowned Kinglet - photo by Blake Maybank
By this time it was after 1100 (time flies), and we had the shoreline of St. Margaret’s Bay to explore. We drove back along Pipeline Road, stopping long enough at the runners’ station to drop off a red hoodie (or bunny-hug, as we call them in Saskatchewan) that we had found in a ditch. We were pleased that it was reunited with a race photographer who had lost it.
As we tallied the new additions to our list we realised that we now had a total of 14 species of warbler, which greatly exceeded our expectations, and is certainly the highest total I have had on a spring migration count. (My previous high warbler species count was 12, on 11 May 1996, on Brier Island, during a spectacular fall-out of birds during foul weather). This time the birds were all present, and singing, on territory. For those of you who are curious, here is our list of 14 warbler species, with the number we encountered of each.
Nashville Warbler (2)
Northern Parula (12)
Chestnut-sided Warbler (1)
Magnolia Warbler (13)
Black-throated Blue Warbler (5)
Yellow-rumped Warbler (40)
Black-throated Green Warbler (22)
Blackburnian Warbler (1)
Palm Warbler (25)
Black-and-white Warbler (16)
American Redstart (1)
Ovenbird (20)
Northern Waterthrush (1)
Common Yellowthroat (1)
We drove west to the border with Lunenburg County, then proceeded east along the shores of St. Margaret’s Bay, stopping first in Hubbards at the Trellis Cafe for some fabulous coffee, and a restroom break.
By this time the winds, as forecast, had begun blowing very strongly onshore, making it almost impossible to spot birds out upon the water. Accordingly we did more driving than stopping as we headed to our next woodland site, the Wooden’s River Trail.
But first, an obligatory stop at the White Sails Bakery and Deli. Jacques talked me into a new menu offering, a superb bun filled with pulled pork, and it was so good that I did not regret bypassing (for once) the incomparable Montreal Smoked Meat sandwich that I usually have. And I bought an amazing Blueberry Cake to take home — it earned many spousal brownie points.
The Wooden’s River trail was sheltered from the worst of the wind, but as it was now early afternoon there was much less birdsong. But there were now a few butterflies (mostly Spring Azures and American Ladies, plus one Mustard White), and we encountered a couple of Black-capped Chickadee flocks, one of which contained a pair of reclusive Boreal Chickadees that Jim and I tried to photograph, not too successfully for my part. Here is my best, albeit slightly fuzzy, image.
Boreal Chickadee - photo by Blake Maybank
This photo does not deserve a full-column spread. The next one does, however, as it is of one my favourite plants, the Saskatoon Berry. It is our favourite berry, and more scarce (and less appreciated) in Nova Scotia than in my home province of Saskatchewan.
Saskatoon Berry (Amelanchier sp.) - photo by Blake Maybank
There was little more for us to do, but in order to be not thought less-than-zealous we continued on to Peggy’s Cove, where we might have a view of the open ocean. Here, despite (or because of) the strong wind we were able to observe many Northern Gannets wheeling to and fro, and occasionally diving. And it was pleasant to view the Peggy’s Cove Lighthouse without the usual attendant throng of admiring visitors, as it was still a bit early in the tourist season.
Peggy's Cove Lighthouse -photo by Blake Maybank
In the village of Peggy’s Cove we had our only House Sparrows of the day.
I next took Jim to a lovely walk I know, the trail to Power’s Lake. This is by no means an official trail, but was constructed and is maintained by an unofficial cabal of trout fishermen, who are tolerant of my naturalist forays. There were few birds, being mid-afternoon, but there were a few butterflies on the wing, and I managed one photo to provide a confirmation for the Maritimes Butterfly atlas. Jim was pleased.
Spring Azure, underwing - Photo by Blake Maybank
And we were both well pleased by our day afield. I dropped Jim at his house, and returned home just in time to do the dishes.
I have not finished our official tally yet, but our collection of warblers will certainly help place this day in my memory. My thanks, Jim. My thanks, Nova Scotia.
“Spring has sprung, the grass has ris,
Singing all the birdies is.”
by Anonymous, for good reason.
Mother’s Day is here. Whatever you may think of this annual right of guilt, my recent thoughts regarding the ritual (ensuring my filial duties (card, phone call) are undertaken in a timely manner, remaining polite and non-judgemental, etc.) triggered a pleasant earworm, which I will now share with you. Play it as background music when you contact your own Mother. Be well.
“If you don’t care where you are going, any road will take you there.”
Corollary – “If you don’t care where you are, you aren’t lost.“
Africa is much upon my mind of late. An African musical mix is on my MP3 player, which I wear during all household chores. Looking to the future I am planning our Maritimes Travel Club’s next international excursion, to Ghana in 2012. And with respect to the past, among my more recent earworms of late is the song “Scatterlings of Africa”, first recorded in 1982 by Johnny Clegg and Juluka, on their album “Scatterlings“. I offer two versions here, the first from 1982.
Johnny Clegg later formed another inter-racial band, called Savuka, and among their hits was a re-issue of “Scatterlings of Africa”. I offer it here. Both versions have merit, though for sentimental reasons I prefer the first, though I like the later video.
My recent madness (agreeing to play the lead in a play) has ended; the last performance of “The Reluctant Resurrection of Sherlock Holmes” was last Saturday night, our 12th stroll upon the boards, to our 7th sold-out audience. And I am suddenly, in theory, left with more time on my hands. This is an illusion, of course, as other responsibilities arise, but there are fewer fixed commitments, especially in the evenings.
My mother-in-law was kind enough to fly from Quèbec to view the play, and we took her sight-seeing when circumstances permitted. The first significant excursion was to Martinique Beach, one of our favourite destinations, a 5 km length of sandy beach, the longest in Nova Scotia, and never heavily visited, despite being only 30 minutes from Halifax Harbour. We stopped first at the Halifax Seaport Farmers’ Market, and loaded up on Turkish, Thai, and French foods for our picnic lunch.
A Picnic on crowded Martinique Beach - photo by Blake Maybank
We walked the beach on a falling tide, and I kept an eye out for Piping Plover (this is the last beach in Halifax County on which this endangered species breeds), as well as Sand Dollars. I found two of the latter and none of the former, but as the plovers can be difficult to observe when sitting on eggs, my failure to view one does not prove they were not present. I have observed them in the past on this beach:
Piping Plover - Martinique Beach 2010 - photo by Blake Maybank
Our beach picnic was on Saturday. More attractions awaited us, however.
Martine took a vacation day on Monday and we did a sightseeing drive along the “Lighthouse Route” in Lunenburg County, stopping where the mood struck us, and Martine picked up some surplus plastic pails for gardening chores, as well as four bags of well-aged (and non-odiferous) cow manure from a local farm. I drove many side roads, especially any that paralleled the coastline, and there were numerous compelling views. The historic town of Lunenburg, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was especially photogenic, and I took a series of panoramic photos. Here are two.
Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Panorama - photo by Blake Maybank
Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Waterfront Panorama - photo by Blake Maybank
It was a lovely day, though my arse was a bit sore after 274 km of driving, almost none of it on straight roads. But if Madelaine can fly here to watch me on stage, showing her some of our beautiful province is the least I can do in return.
Just a quick squib today. Even though this is the second of two performance-free days, I am having trouble raising the energy for much that is truly productive.
Horoscopes are, for many, a mild, harmless diversion, of no great import. But some individuals take them very seriously indeed. I am not among their number. Accordingly I offer the following two classic cartoon strips.
I was in desperate need of a nap today. It was not to be. Here is the reason:
"Louis Armstrong", photo by Blake Maybank
The weather this morning was frightful, heavy rain and strong wind, yet Louis insisted he wished to investigate the pleasures of the balcony. I eventually relented, and went about my day, forgetting him for a couple of hours. By the time I heard his plaintive meows, he was thoroughly soaked. And he seemed grateful for the return to the warmth of the indoors, so grateful that he seemed to forget who it was that placed him in the soggy gale.
But his plan was to not get mad; instead, he got even. At lunch when I made a brief visit to my comfy chair for a much-needed restorative nap, Louis set about disturbing my repose in a multitude of ways. First, snoring nearby. Second, deciding to shift to my lap, where much stretching and (gentle) clawing ensued. And third (and last), waiting until I had just drifted off to sleep, then commencing a vigorous bout of self-grooming and scratching.
Final score: Louis 3, slave 1.
