It’s been half a century since gold was mined in Cow Bay.  Gold deposits here are part of the evidence that support the theory that this corner of Nova Scotia was attached to Africa prior to continental drift.  Today, the closest we have to gold is found in November’s plant life along the Salt Marsh Trail. 

These golden grasses and leaves exhude a warmth and richness that were not present earlier this fall.

The Marsh in September

The goldening of the grasses takes place at the same time that the water turns a steel grey.  

The colours look especially burnished in the morning sunlight.  Even when there is frost on the seaweed, there is a warm glow to the landscape.

The few leaves remaining on the rosebushes that border the trail are also golden.  They stand in bright contrast to the brilliant red rose hips that were orange earlier in the season.

Even the November sunrise seems more golden…

Which makes me wonder… why do we usually think of November as such a dull, dreary month?

The heart of the poppy remembers. 

During the Napoleonic era,  it was first noticed that blood red poppies bloomed in fields that had seen battle.  Somehow, the earth remembered.  Later it was discovered that the chalk in the soil reacted with the lime left from the rubble  created during battles.  Regardless of the science, what is most important is that the poppies remembered.  Human activity did not go unnoticed by nature.

And if the earth can remember pain and suffering, I wonder, can it not also remember joy?

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

~ Kahlil Gibran

Does the grass remember the children who ran across it barefoot all those years ago?  Do the trees remember the boys who played their army games from their makeshift bases among them in the woods?  Now the boys are grown and war is no longer a game.   If the forest can remember, does it also long for their return?

Long after I am gone, and the trees and grass are still here, will they continue to hold the memories of the boys who played among them?  These boys who too quickly grew into men and travelled far from home?  And one who especially liked to run barefoot through the woods and is now serving in Afghanistan, a land known for its poppies, and the ravages of its war?  

I hope so.  But if the trees and grass forget, I’m sure the poppies that spring up every year in the front yard will remind them.

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The sun is just rising along the Salt Marsh Trail when the sound of geese begins to float in from the north.  They are waking up just beyond the island and preparing for flight.

Moments later, their distant honking turns into a loud roar.  What are they calling out to each other as they head out to sea?

Their numbers are in the thousands and it’s impossible to photograph them all in the sky.  To see so many geese flying directly overhead at dawn is an awesome experience.  The rays of dawn light up their feathers, revealing the beauty of their markings.

Their formations are like ribbons in the sky as they begin to organize themselves for their long journey south.

Within a couple of minutes, the event is over as they head out beyond the marsh to the Atlantic.  The sun is still rising beyond the horizon.

Forty minutes later, a lone goose can be heard flying around the marsh.  Its calls are distinct and clearly those of a Canada goose.  How did it possibly miss the wake up call? 

Its unanswered calls sound lonely and frantic.  Geese are known for their manner of leaving no goose behind.  How could this have happened?  Hopefully there will be more geese passing through here this week and this lone goose will be able to join the rest of its kind in their long journey south.

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Waking up to the first snow of the season is a magical event.  Suddenly seeing white when the day before, the landscape was covered with fading autumn hues, is always a surprise to the senses.  Children are especially excited and full of wonder at the arrival of nature’s most versatile plaything. 

But, not everyone smiles at the sight of the season’s first snow.   It means more work for parents getting children ready to go outside, more time scraping the vehicle in the morning, more potential danger on the roads and worst of all, more shoveling.

Nevertheless, snow is beautiful, especially when it’s still in mid-air, falling softly from the heavens or swirling in the wind.  It covers the landscape, making the most of November’s stark silhouettes.  The colored leaves of autumn quickly pass from memory.  Winter’s on its way.

Soon it will be time to put out sunflower seeds for the squirrels and birds who have decided to stay for the winter.  There will be more activity at the birdbath as the ground freezes and it becomes more difficult for wildlife to find food and fresh water. 

As warmer weather is forecast over the next few days, this snow will probably melt as do most first snows here in Nova Scotia.  Which leaves one to wonder… when the snow melts… where does the white go?

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Coyotes that have lost their fear of humans have become a concern in some parts of Nova Scotia where they are getting too close for comfort.  Problems often occur in  neighborhoods that border wild areas where there is an overlap of territories occupied by people and wildlife.

Last week, a young female hiker was killed by two coyotes in Cape Breton Highlands National Park, heightening awareness of the problem.  Both coyotes were shot. One is still on the loose, but an autopsy on the other revealed that it was neither hungry nor diseased when it attacked.

Some blame the problem on people feeding the coyotes, either willingly or by keeping backyard compost piles. I once heard of a woman somewhere in the province who was regularly feeding a couple of  skinny, homeless dogs, until her husband noticed her actions and pointed out that she was unassumingly feeding wild coyotes!

Small pets often fall prey to coyotes looking for an easy meal. I’ve always kept my cat indoors after being warned of coyotes in the area years ago.  Toddlers playing by themselves outdoors might also be easy prey.

It’s been suggested that the coyotes that attacked the hiker may have been coydogs, the offspring of coyotes and dogs.  These hybrids may have less of a natural fear of humans written in their DNA.

As a solution, many folks would like a bounty placed on all coyotes in the province. It’s already legal to kill coyotes that are a nuisance on your property and there is a hunting season for coyotes as well. 

One comment at the local newspaper’s website boasted that eight coyotes had been trapped in the woods near Bissett Road a couple of years ago.

The first coyote I ever encountered, a strikingly beautiful animal, was seen while I was driving along that road years ago. I saw one near there this past spring along the salt marsh trail. It wanted nothing to do with me and quickly ran off.  More recently, a Cole Harbour man complained that a coyote had approached him on the trail and seemed to have no fear at all.  The Natural Resources Department told him the animal was probably just curious.

Coyote along Salt Marsh Trail

Like other animal lovers, I don’t want all coyotes to be hunted for the sake of a few bad ones.  However, I also don’t like the idea of having to look over my shoulder while I’m out in the woods.  A balanced response to the problem is needed.

Coyotes are not native to Nova Scotia.  These clever opportunists infiltrated the province just last century, coming up from the US.   As wolves were made extinct in the province well over a century ago due to over trapping, coyotes have no natural enemies to keep their population in check.  I’d like to see parks introduce wolves as part of the solution to the problem.  This would put the balance back into the ecosystem that was removed by man in the first place.

If you do venture out in the woods, it’s recommended that you don’t walk alone and keep children close.  The best advice seems to be to walk loudly and carry a big stick.

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The tamaracks that were barely noticeable in the forest all year long now take centre stage. 

Their soft, burnt orange needles provide a bright contrast to the clear blue sky.  Being complementary colours  (set opposite one another on the colour wheel), orange and blue look especially vibrant together in the autumn landscape.

Tamaracks don’t mind wet, boggy soil.  Their Ojibway name, muckigwatig, means ’swamp tree.’  They thrive in Cow Bay wherever there is little competition for sunshine with other trees.  These deciduous conifers are tolerant of extreme cold.  Their delicate appearance often enhances residential landscapes in northern regions.

The inner bark of tamaracks is edible and has many medicinal uses among Native Americans, among them, treating burns, wounds, inflammations and headaches.   It’s also a favourite of porcupines. 

Along Bissett Road, which has extensive stands of tamaracks on both sides, it’s no wonder that porcupines are a frequent item on the roadkill café menu.  I’ve crossed paths with them twice in as many weeks, but both times managed to see these slow walkers in time to yield. 

It won’t be long before the tamaracks shed their needles for the winter and once again fade into the background of the forest.  But for now, it’s tamarack time.

For more information about tamarack trees, see The Last of Autumn’s Leaves and Needles

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You can just barely see its tail hanging over the roof  in the photograph taken from my office window.  Although this black bird’s been here before, today’s visit on All Hallows Eve seems especially ominous. 

A black crow or raven on the roof is supposed to foretell of death or harm coming to a dwelling’s inhabitants.  Good grief!  Isn’t life worrisome enough already without all these extra superstitions?  I prefer to believe that a thirsty bird has simply come to have a drink of the water that collects in the eavestrough at the north-east corner of the roof. 

I don’t think my black cat questions why feathered visitors stop by. She’s just glad they do.

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Moss brings an enchanted appearance to forests.  Several varieties grow around Flandrum Hill, on the ground, on stones and more than just the north side of tree trunks. 

In recent years, some innovative horticulturalists have suggested that it might be ecologically beneficial for homeowners to consider growing lawns of moss instead of grass.   Here are some reasons why:

• It grows fast,
• prevents erosion,
• repels weeds,
• doesn’t require fertilizer,
• doesn’t require watering and 
• doesn’t require mowing.

That last reason should be enough by itself to convince people to look into the moss option.  Imagine all the labour that would be saved in lawn maintenance!

Though mosses thrive in moist, acidic soil, all they really need is a bit of shade.  They’re able to absorb enough moisture from rainfall to allow them to survive without extra watering.

The sphagnum moss shown above is a marvel of nature.  It can absorb several times its own weight in water or oil.  It has many uses in gardening, ie. as a seed starter, and dried, is an excellent insulator, firestarter and dressing for wounds.  

Mosses are often used by scientists as bioindicators, species used to monitor the health of an environment, to identify the presence of heavy metals and other pollutants in an ecosystem.  Their presence here doesn’t just make the woods seem more magical, they reveal the good health of the environment as well.

For more information on moss lawns, see

Moss Makes a Lush, No-care Lawn

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This week marks a year of living vicariouly… through Nature.  What she’s experienced, I’ve experienced.  Her springtime has meant hope and wonder, delight and new discoveries for me.  Her fall has brought colour to my life in ways I barely noticed or thought possible before.

This is what happens when you keep a nature journal.  Although you might experience the same natural events year after year, you see everything in a clearer light when you take the time to reflect on what you’ve seen.  Once you learn the name of a common weed, it becomes more difficult to ignore it the next time you see it in bloom on the lawn.  You think twice about mowing it down. 

Over the past year I’ve spent a lot of time outdoors and taken more photographs than at at any other time in my life.  Field guides have become regular reading material and I’ve drawn numerous images of wildlife in an effort to illustrate what I couldn’t capture in a photograph.

My favorite posts are those that surrounded the theme of shapes in nature and the natural elements during our Midsummer Scavenger Hunt.  Thank you again to everyone who participated.  The whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts.

The Midsummer Scavenger Hunt Series

Despite all the page views I received last week while on WordPress’ front page (just under a thousand in one day!) it’s the feedback from regular visitors from around the world through comments and email that make the process all the more worthwhile.  My goal has not just been to share what beauty is here in my neck of the woods, but to encourage readers to take a closer look at the wonders waiting to be discovered in your own backyard.  Living vicariously through Nature is a way of life that’s all the more enjoyable when it’s shared.

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Much of the produce that was once offered at the Halifax Farmers Market was grown in Cow Bay. Patterson Road at the bottom of Flandrum Hill was named after a farmer who worked his large fields here before houses cropped up. Today, there are no large farms in the area, though some individuals still have gardens in their yards.  Years ago it was common practice for gardeners to erect scarecrows in an effort to ward off crows and other birds that might gobble up seed or fruit before harvest time. 

Scarecrows were customarily roughly put together mannequins (usually just old clothing stuffed with straw with a hat on a stuffed sack head). As a child I had fun helping create scarecrows or other bird scaring devices for my grandparents’ garden. Today, unless their purpose is solely decorative, scarecrows are a rare sight.  I wonder why this is.  Maybe crows aren’t as numerous as they used to be.

In the 1960s, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh was a Disney series that told the story of Dr. Syn, a clever vicar who disguised himself as a scarecrow by night to engage in smuggling activities against the crown.  He was assisted by a couple of accomplices who also wore frightful masks to hide their identities.  

Although set in England, the series could have been filmed locally, as the natural landscape with its marsh and seashore seem so similar to many areas in Nova Scotia.  The silhouette of the Scarecrow on his horse looked eerie against a background of the windswept coast and his laugh was enough to give a child nightmares.  Scarecrows don’t seem half as scary to adults as they do to children and crows.  

Here is the opening sequence from the Walt Disney series along with an excerpt from one of the episodes. 

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