Photo credit: Rosalie Sawler
Years ago, in some long forgotten newspaper article, I came across the idea that children who grew up in a country setting were more likely to be happier as adults. Though the area around Flandrum Hill is considered semi-rural, I think it shares many of the characteristics of country living: namely, fresh air, lots of open natural space and the presence of wildlife.
Why would children growing up here be happier? Spending more time outside would likely be a factor. Country kids have the opportunity to play outside in a variety of spaces. They can play ball in a field or play hide and seek in the woods. They can climb trees or play in tree houses. In the summer they can pick berries and wildflowers. They can spend an afternoon looking for frogs, snakes or salamanders. Living near the ocean, kids also have the advantage here of walking to the beach. It seems obvious that any child would grow up happy in this type of environment and take this inner joy with them into adulthood.
But what advantage does country or semi-rural living have for adults? Can we expect to be happier in the country than in town? Certainly the larger lot sizes afford more opportunities for gardening and privacy to do one’s own thing without worrying about disturbing the neighbours. But surely there has to be some greater advantage for so many people to be attracted to living outside the city when it’s so far from many of the services we rely on in our modern lives (shopping, transportation, entertainment, dining).
I think there’s a lot to be said for nature and its uplifting effect on our senses. Somehow, seeing open spaces, trees, wildflowers and wildlife on a daily basis actually makes people happier. In Summer or in Winter, there’s nothing like the scent of fir or spruce boughs to clear one’s head. From birds singing in the Spring to the sound of the wind trembling the Aspen leaves in the Fall, each season brings its own special appeal. Seeing a deer or fox on one’s drive into work in the morning makes life here seem special. Simple pleasures, like feeling the morning mist on your face as you taste a couple of wild blackberries from the vine, would make even non-believers consider the notion that God is in His Heaven and all is right with the world.
- The year’s at the spring,
- And day’s at the morn;
- Morning’s at seven;
- The hill-side’s dew-pearled;
- The lark’s on the wing;
- The snail’s on the thorn;
- God’s in his Heaven –
- All’s right with the world! ~ Robert Browning
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The flock of birds that visited the feeding station earlier this morning is long gone. The forest in the backyard is silent except for the conversation of the trees. The light wind tickles the peeling paper bark on the birches where earlier the chickadees were poking for food. A couple of persistent leaves, now dry and brown, flitter and flap as they cling to barren branches. Half fallen trees, blown over during recent storms, press against each other, creaking and whining about their newly exposed roots. The wind softly whooshes through the firs, brandishing the last of the fallen snow from the boughs. A woodpecker interrupts the conversation by asking some trees if they have any insects to share this cold morning. The tolerant trees oblige.
Trees are the world’s largest living organisms. Like all wise creatures, they listen more than they speak. That they make so little noise should make us all listen more attentively when they do have something to say.
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Whenever there’s a snowstorm, do you ever wonder how the wild animals are staying safe and warm?
Mammals have heavier coats at this time of year. These provide extra space in their fur to trap air and keep the heat in. But Nova Scotia’s winter winds can be brutally cold. Luckily, there’s snow.
Who would have thought that dry, fluffy snow is 95% air, a fact that makes it an excellent insulator. By snuggling into a snow drift, mice, squirrels and hares can prevent substantial heat loss. My dog Kulik, an Alaskan Malamute and Timber Wolf cross, often curled himself into a ball and hunkered down into a snow bank during snowstorms. He looked quite cozy and content.
Although wild animals instinctively seem to know how to use snow to their best advantage, domestic animals like cats are best kept indoors during snowstorms. My brother lost one of his cats one year when she became trapped in a snow drift. Sadly, he didn’t find her until the following Spring.
If a blanket of snow stays on the ground during the winter months, small animals like mice will create tunnels in it. Besides sheltering them from the winter cold, these tunnels allow the mice to travel to food sources without the worry of predators. One winter in Southern Ontario, when some mice took up residence in my home, I was told it was because there wasn’t a constant snow cover in the nearby fields that year.
A blanket of snow will also insulate flower beds and plants from the winter cold. Snow shoveled next to a house’s foundation will also work at keeping the heat in. Considering the new Nova Scotia Power rate hikes set to come into effect in January, I’m wondering if it might be worthwhile to start reading up on igloo construction techniques.
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Growing up in Northern Ontario, snow was a big part of my life. It usually first snowed around Hallowe’en and the last snow was inevitably well past Easter. Since I loved being outside, I spent half the year surrounded by snow. I loved playing in it and would stay outside well beyond the time when my fingers and toes would become numb from the cold. How time changes all things…
The Inuit have a great variety of words to describe snow: kanevvluk (fine snow), natquik (drifting snow), muruaneq (soft, deep snow), nutaryuk (fresh snow) and qanisqineq (snow falling on water) are a small sample. Skiers also have an expanded snow vocabulary: powder, crud, crust… However, all children, in their simple wisdom, know that there are only two types of snow: packing and non-packing. What child has not grabbed a handful of snow and felt the thrill of realizing all of the creative potential of the packing variety? Packing snow is the fundamental basic ingredient of snowballs, snow forts and snowmen.
As an adult waking up this morning and seeing the season’s first snow, my heart sank as it confirmed the inevitable: winter had arrived. From opening the compost bin to getting out of the driveway, snow makes everything more difficult. Among people who own vehicles – but not a garage – there are two types of snow also: snow that is crusty and requires a great deal of energy and a good snow scraper to remove from the windshield (as it did this morning), and the type that falls off softly as soon as the vehicle is heated ever so slightly. Coincidently, this last type is usually the same sort of packing snow that delights children. Maybe time doesn’t change all things after all.
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If you’re unable to put out seed, a bird bath by itself can attract a fair amount of attention from wildlife. One in my backyard sits right at the edge of the trees, not too far from where I also have a feeding station. I’ve been watching visitors come and go year round for years. Not all of them behave similarly. From my observations, I’ve compiled a list of what wildlife is likely to do what at the birdbath:
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Most likely to take a drink while politely waiting their turn at the feeding station: Chickadees
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Most likely to take a fleeting sip while making a leap for the bird seed: Red Squirrels
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Most likely to make a splashy, elaborate display while bathing: Blue Jays
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Most likely to take a bath together: Starlings
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Most likely to gather around the birdbath before bedtime: Mourning Doves
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Most likely to tip over the birdbath: Ring-Necked Pheasants
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People often marvel when I tell them about all the wildlife I see. Whether I’m walking in the woods or along the seashore, my eyes always manage to capture what others would usually miss: mammals, birds, seashells… How do I do this?
1. I believe that wildlife is all around me when I go outdoors. Every time I step outside, I believe I will see wild animals or evidence of their presence. It’s not that I think I’m entitled to see these wild creatures, but rather that I trust they’re out there. I didn’t always believe this. I spent a lot of time in the woods in Northern Ontario when I was young, longing to see a creature in the wild. All I saw were chipmunks and insects. As I started reading books about real people’s encounters with animals in the wild, I started to believe that if others could see wild animals, I could too. My mind became open to the possibilities.
2. I know what animals share my environment. While living in British Columbia, I began reading field guides in order to draw animals better. The variety of wildlife amazed me. When I moved to Nova Scotia a few years later, I set aside the Western guides for ones that covered Eastern Canada. Birds, sea life and woodland creatures were all a bit different here. Some animals made their homes on the seashore, some in the salt marshes and some farther inland.
3. Experience has taught me to expect the unexpected. Sea Urchin shells are always a nice find on Nova Scotia’s shores, but I’ve also found them in the woods. Once a seagull has grasped a live urchin, it will often fly up and drop the urchin onto the rocks below in order to crack it open. Live urchins are covered with spines and this is a less painful way for gulls to get to the edible flesh. Seagulls probably make no distinction between seashore and forest rocks as good hard surfaces on which to smash shells, so finding a Sea Urchin in the woods shouldn’t have been such an extraordinary find. But somehow, the discovery opened my mind to the possibility of the unexpected.
Following these three tips is sure to help you see more wildlife too:
- Believe that wildlife is all around you when you go outdoors.
- Know what animals share your environment.
- Expect the unexpected.
After awhile, finding wildlife may become a bit like ‘red truck syndrome’ which happens when you start noticing something everywhere that you’ve never seen before – you notice one red truck and then start noticing them all over the place. In this instance, you’ll notice one Sea Urchin and then start noticing Sea Urchins all over the place. Watch where you’re walking and try not to crack them under your feet as you walk in the woods.
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Great Blue Heron
Just a few minutes’ drive from Flandrum Hill, the Salt Marsh Trail off Bissett Road offers a splendid opportunity to walk through a salt marsh and observe its inhabitants up close. In the past month, I’ve seen three porcupines sleeping in an apple tree right next to the trail, hundreds of migrating Canada Geese, a dozen Great Blue Herons standing together in the water at low tide, the largest starfish I’ve seen yet in the wild, and four (yes four) Bald Eagles at once, hunting in close proximity of each other.
The trail begins in a woodland setting and after a ten minute walk, opens up to the marsh. The panoramic views alone, especially at sunrise, are well worth the trip. At this time of year, the marsh grass turns a brilliant gold which contrasts sharply with the steel grey water on overcast days. The ebb and flow of the tides can be observed with both your eyes and ears as you walk over the wooden bridges. The sound of your feet on the wood planks adds much to the experience.
The trail is built along an abandoned railway track and crosses the marsh with a series of bridges that allow hikers and bikers to stand right in the middle of this delicate ecosystem without disturbing it. It connects to Lawrentown Beach via the Atlantic View Trail, and to Shearwater via the Shearwater Flyer Trail.
For photos of the trail in springtime, see http://flandrumhill.wordpress.com/2009/04/11/spring-along-the-salt-marsh-trail/
For directions and more information about the Salt Marsh Trail visit Nova Trails at:
http://novatrails.com/halifax/trails/saltmarsh/index.php
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For years bright red poppies were successful in taking over the flower bed under my living room window. Big, bright and beautiful, with petals that looked like delicate crepe paper, they looked gaudy against the purplish grey brick of the house. They had to go.
For years I persevered in plucking them out each Spring, whenever their leaves would sprout out against the foundation under the window. Had I not planted them there originally myself, I would have thought they were weeds. I’m sure I’ll find a few again next Spring.
Why we’ve come to associate poppies with Remembrance Day is likely due to the fact that in Europe, poppies thrived in chalk soils that became rich in lime from the rubble created during battles. It was during the Napoleonic wars that it was first noticed that blood red poppies bloomed in battlefields. Why is it not surprising that even the plant world is affected by war?
When Canadian army medic John McCrae wrote his poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ in 1915 poppies were forever immortalized as the flowers of remembrance:
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae
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The weather this morning was more like May than November, so I thought I’d take advantage of the sunshine and moist earth to transplant some Balsam Firs. The back of the yard is absolutely crowded full of them, and they are all new since Hurricane Juan blew down the old growth trees in 2003. Although they’re all healthy and green now, soon the struggle for sunlight will leave many of them looking scraggley and brown. Only the strongest and tallest will survive. By transplanting the odd one where there is more space in the yard, all have a better chance at survival.
Transplanting trees is not as difficult as you’d think, at least with Balsam Firs. They are shallow rooted so the hole you dig doesn’t need to be deep. The most important thing is to carefully handle the tiny root hairs, making sure you don’t rip them or leave them too long in direct sunlight. It’s also helpful to surround the roots with finely crumbled earth, breaking apart any large chunks with your hands. Once it’s planted, the tree can be watered and surrounded with dried leaves and grass so that it stays moist.
If you’re local and you’d like a Balsam Fir for your yard, send me an email and we’ll see what we can dig up.
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