Teale Time Earl Plato
***
Writer’s Note: I Have been writing a series on the
late naturalist Bert Miller and the giant Tulip tree of Rosehill, Fort Erie for l local history articles. The great tree some 16ft. 51/2 inches in circumference was cut down circa early 1950’s. Edwin Teale, great nature writer, wrote the following: “For a great tree death comes as a gradual transformation. Its vitality ebbs slowly. Even when life has abandoned it entirely. It remains a majestic thing.” Not so with our Tulip tree, alas. Have you visited the Comfort Maple of North Pelham recently? It’s worth it! Majestic? Yes.
***
I want to visit Trail Wood the long time home of Edwin Teale, nature writer and his wife Nellie in Connecticut. I have written the Audubon Society there for they run the nature site now asking for any information. Teale has been my writing motivator for my nature offerings for many years.
***
I have a map of Teale’s Trail Wood. Seven trails lead away from the white cottage with its black shutters nestled under a grove of hickory trees. With its pegged beams and great blocks of foundation stone, it stands on a knoll above the flow of Hampton Brook.
***
I have drawn a map this year of Marcy Woods enhanced by Neil Reichelt. It shows the site of the rustic Marcy log cabin perched on a treed sand hill. There are two main trails - Upper and Lower and two smaller trails - Little Hemlock Trail and the Roller Coaster Trail. Many of us have walked these trails for years. Thanks to the owners, the DiCienzo family, we can still walk there again.
***
Teale’s Trail Wood, which is on the same latitude as our Macy’s Woods, has seven walking paths radiating from his cabin. They cross the fields that surround the house. They become trails and thread their ways through the woods and into wetlands, along brooks, across boulder fields and over ridges. Then into ravines among ferns and wildflowers until you reach the pond and a waterfall. Climb up the juniper clad hillsides and back by the beaver dam and past Teale’s little log writing cabin nestled among the aspens.. Hampton Creek is ahead with a cascade foaming over its rocks as it crosses Old Wood Road. Winding, branching, and crisscrossing these seven trails of Trail Wood run for a total of a little more than three miles (6 km). I could handle that!
***
This past July, 2007 I realized my goal. We reached Trail Wood and walked the paths of Pulitzer Prize Winner, Edwin Way Teale. A great thrill.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
The Great Sturgeon
The Great Sturgeon of the Lakes Earl Plato
This article is basically about "the old days", nostalgia times. I had pulled a picture from my clipping file without a date on it. Always write down on the back the date and the source of your pictures and articles. Believe me, I am looking at a giant fish hanging shark-like or marlin-like from its rear fin facing head down. What is it? Hey, yesterday I found my notes in a different file! It says that it's a 158 pound, seven foot lake sturgeon found on a beach of Lake Erie, Erie County. That's right just across the lake! From the attire of the fellow posed next to the hanging giant I would say it was taken in the last 15-20 years. Elaine and I were on he Wisconsin River in July this year. We were on one of those famous amphibian ducks. We met some ishermen and he questions asked. “Yes, we’ve caught a few even a sturgeon.” Sturgeon? Yes. Back to my research. I am going back in time now and share some research and memories about, The Methuselah of the Great Lakes. In an interview some years back with John Miller, son of the late Niagara Peninsula naturalist, Bert Miller, I recorded these words, "My dad always had a boat to fish with at the old homestead at MIller's Creek. He would go out into the river with his nightline. It would be several 100 feet long with 35 to 40 hooks on it and anchored at each end. While it was still light out he would have to take good land bearings so that when he went out the next day he could locate the line. Next morning he would take a grappling hook and pull up the line. Hopefully there would be sturgeons on the giant hooks. The biggest sturgeon he ever caught was about 125 pounds. That would supplement his income a little bit for he would go over to Buffalo and sell it." Note: This was in the 1920's before the Peace Bridge was built (1927). How did he get to Buffalo or Black Rock? Was it by ferry boat or did he row? The lake sturgeon (Acipenser fulvescens) is our longest- lived freshwater fish. Lake sturgeon once flourished in the Great Lakes with fish up to 152 years old. My source was a State of new York Conservation magazine. By the turn of this century with market demand at its highest the fish was almost eliminated. Dam construction and the degradation of its habitat didn't help. Today as an endangered species this most ancient fish should eventually become plentiful again in Lake Erie and other Great Lakes as we pursue the pure waters program. I hope so.
This article is basically about "the old days", nostalgia times. I had pulled a picture from my clipping file without a date on it. Always write down on the back the date and the source of your pictures and articles. Believe me, I am looking at a giant fish hanging shark-like or marlin-like from its rear fin facing head down. What is it? Hey, yesterday I found my notes in a different file! It says that it's a 158 pound, seven foot lake sturgeon found on a beach of Lake Erie, Erie County. That's right just across the lake! From the attire of the fellow posed next to the hanging giant I would say it was taken in the last 15-20 years. Elaine and I were on he Wisconsin River in July this year. We were on one of those famous amphibian ducks. We met some ishermen and he questions asked. “Yes, we’ve caught a few even a sturgeon.” Sturgeon? Yes. Back to my research. I am going back in time now and share some research and memories about, The Methuselah of the Great Lakes. In an interview some years back with John Miller, son of the late Niagara Peninsula naturalist, Bert Miller, I recorded these words, "My dad always had a boat to fish with at the old homestead at MIller's Creek. He would go out into the river with his nightline. It would be several 100 feet long with 35 to 40 hooks on it and anchored at each end. While it was still light out he would have to take good land bearings so that when he went out the next day he could locate the line. Next morning he would take a grappling hook and pull up the line. Hopefully there would be sturgeons on the giant hooks. The biggest sturgeon he ever caught was about 125 pounds. That would supplement his income a little bit for he would go over to Buffalo and sell it." Note: This was in the 1920's before the Peace Bridge was built (1927). How did he get to Buffalo or Black Rock? Was it by ferry boat or did he row? The lake sturgeon (Acipenser fulvescens) is our longest- lived freshwater fish. Lake sturgeon once flourished in the Great Lakes with fish up to 152 years old. My source was a State of new York Conservation magazine. By the turn of this century with market demand at its highest the fish was almost eliminated. Dam construction and the degradation of its habitat didn't help. Today as an endangered species this most ancient fish should eventually become plentiful again in Lake Erie and other Great Lakes as we pursue the pure waters program. I hope so.
Love That Finch
Love this Finch Earl Plato
“Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop from low-hung branches; little space they stop, But sip and twitter, and their feathers sleek, Then off at once, as in a wanton freak; Or perhaps to show their black and golden wings, Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.” -John Keats, 1816. It's obvious Keats loved the goldfinch for he writes about them in other of his poetry works. The goldfinch with its black and yellow plumage is a much loved bird as Jerome Jackson writes in the magazine, Birder's World. I would agree. In my search for my Grandma Plato's ancestors, the Pennsylvania Dutch, Saylors and Sherks, I discovered the distelfink bird or thistle finch. In the Pennsylvania Dutch country in and around Lancaster County it symbolizes the friendly rural peace loving people of German descent. It is our American goldfinch. Thistle finch is an appropriate name for American goldfinches because of their preference for thistle seeds as food and thistle down for the lining of their neat, little nests. Jerome Jackson says they even occasionally build their nests in thistle plants. I haven't seen this perhaps you have. This report from a birder's field note: "A thistle on which a Goldfinch had been feeding was examined and on its leaves and on the ground beneath 67 seeds were counted. They appeared perfect but close inspection showed a slit through which the meaty kernel had been deftly removed." American goldfinches feed on an abundance of other seeds, including elm, alder, and pine, as well as many insects. I had a regular attendance of finches, house and purple, and the occasional American goldfinch at my feeder. Putting out food to attract birds is a significant factor contributing to the expansion and growth of American goldfinch populations. We read that little over a century people began to feed wild birds. American goldfinches are often abundant feeder birds, especially in winter and early spring. They are quite social and you can hear their familiar "per-chic-o-ree." Ross Bearss of Ridgeway had a goldfinch feeder. The tubular feeder has the holes or openings for the seeds below the perch poles. Apparently only the goldfinch can hold on to the perch and swing down and around to the seed. Other birds including the house finch can't accomplish this feat. Check out this feeder at your nature store. Hey, it’s a great gift for goldfinch lovers.
“Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop from low-hung branches; little space they stop, But sip and twitter, and their feathers sleek, Then off at once, as in a wanton freak; Or perhaps to show their black and golden wings, Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.” -John Keats, 1816. It's obvious Keats loved the goldfinch for he writes about them in other of his poetry works. The goldfinch with its black and yellow plumage is a much loved bird as Jerome Jackson writes in the magazine, Birder's World. I would agree. In my search for my Grandma Plato's ancestors, the Pennsylvania Dutch, Saylors and Sherks, I discovered the distelfink bird or thistle finch. In the Pennsylvania Dutch country in and around Lancaster County it symbolizes the friendly rural peace loving people of German descent. It is our American goldfinch. Thistle finch is an appropriate name for American goldfinches because of their preference for thistle seeds as food and thistle down for the lining of their neat, little nests. Jerome Jackson says they even occasionally build their nests in thistle plants. I haven't seen this perhaps you have. This report from a birder's field note: "A thistle on which a Goldfinch had been feeding was examined and on its leaves and on the ground beneath 67 seeds were counted. They appeared perfect but close inspection showed a slit through which the meaty kernel had been deftly removed." American goldfinches feed on an abundance of other seeds, including elm, alder, and pine, as well as many insects. I had a regular attendance of finches, house and purple, and the occasional American goldfinch at my feeder. Putting out food to attract birds is a significant factor contributing to the expansion and growth of American goldfinch populations. We read that little over a century people began to feed wild birds. American goldfinches are often abundant feeder birds, especially in winter and early spring. They are quite social and you can hear their familiar "per-chic-o-ree." Ross Bearss of Ridgeway had a goldfinch feeder. The tubular feeder has the holes or openings for the seeds below the perch poles. Apparently only the goldfinch can hold on to the perch and swing down and around to the seed. Other birds including the house finch can't accomplish this feat. Check out this feeder at your nature store. Hey, it’s a great gift for goldfinch lovers.
Monday, July 30, 2007
It's Carolinian!
This is me at the towering Tulip tree on the Lower Trail in Marcy Woods, Fort Erie. There are other specimens of this Carolinian tree in the Woods. The species is the state tree of North Carolina . The Marcy tract is one of many areas designated Carolinian Canada in Southern Ontario. Point Pelee, Rondeau Park, Backus Woods, and Long Point are some o the Carolinian sites. See Brad Cundiff's book - Walks in Carolinian Canada. It is a great source. However, Marcy Woods is privately owned by the DiCienzo family of Niagara Falls, Ontario. Want a walk there? E-mail me at plato1@cogeco.ca. I'll arrange a hike. 
Sunday, July 29, 2007
A Strange Fish
A Strange Catch Earl Plato
Wainfleet, close and yet so far. The four of us put the boat in at Dunnville’s public dock about six p.m. this August evening. John moved his good-sized craft easily down the runway and into the calm waters of the Grand River. This was to be a sight and fishing expedition of a few hours.
It had taken us about twenty minutes from the O’ Brien’s of Wainfleet located on the Welland River to reach Dunnville and our launching place, Close and not so far.
The Grand, that great river from the northwest, was our waterway to Cayuga. Yes, we had been on the river in past years but not for some trolling. This night we counted but three fishermen in their little boats. John has a depth measuring device, “14 feet here - a good place for pickerel. we’ll fish here on the way back.” he commented.
I had my camera and took plenty of shots. Remember the time - growing shadows and some good reflections. Weeping and river willows - plenty of them. We passed the trailer site. Plenty of trailers and docks but few people. Think! It’s dinner time, eh.
We eventually approached the bridge at the town of Cayuga. Time to head back downstream. John set up out trolling poles. He told me that he had given me a good lure. Diane took over the wheel and we trolled.
A hit! A fair-sized hit for john. A two foot gray-coloured fish came to the surface. “The net!” What a strange fish. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Elaine snapped some shots. John weighed the creature - two and a half pounds. This fish had a rounded tail like an ancient coelacanth. It had a large head and a mouth equipped with strong sharp teeth. It’s back was covered with a series of small fins. No keeper this! Back into the water but we had some photos. You regular fishermen know the species- the Bowfin.
It was growing dark when we arrived back at the Dunnville dock. It was a great trip on a great river. To be exact a Grand river.
***
I didn’t intend to lie but the response from cat lovers made me add another cat myth tale.
Cat lovers there are in Niagara. No doubt about it. One old friend questioned the existence of ‘Whitey’. Brother, Ed, confirmed to him that my pet cat did live. I have only fond memories of that favourite feline. Yes, my mother had no great love for cats but she never discouraged us from having them as pets as long as they stayed outside. She was always faithful in feeding them when we forgot our duties.
From the Buffalo News “Debunking some old cat tales.” Cats are a danger to babies. With two pregnant daughters should we be afraid?
Only one daughter has a pet house cat - a beautiful black and white feline named Daytona. She is truly a house cat. Here’s what Gina Spadafori of the News wrote. “Cats do not maliciously smother or suck the breath out of babies, as the myths hold. That doesn’t mean some considerations aren’t in order, however. Pregnant women have to take special precautions when cleaning the litter box - or have someone else do it - because of the risk of disease. Yes, even animal advocates remind new parents that common sense dictates no animal be left unattended with a small child - for the protection of both.”
Next: A well fed cat won’t hunt. Makes sense, eh?
Wainfleet, close and yet so far. The four of us put the boat in at Dunnville’s public dock about six p.m. this August evening. John moved his good-sized craft easily down the runway and into the calm waters of the Grand River. This was to be a sight and fishing expedition of a few hours.
It had taken us about twenty minutes from the O’ Brien’s of Wainfleet located on the Welland River to reach Dunnville and our launching place, Close and not so far.
The Grand, that great river from the northwest, was our waterway to Cayuga. Yes, we had been on the river in past years but not for some trolling. This night we counted but three fishermen in their little boats. John has a depth measuring device, “14 feet here - a good place for pickerel. we’ll fish here on the way back.” he commented.
I had my camera and took plenty of shots. Remember the time - growing shadows and some good reflections. Weeping and river willows - plenty of them. We passed the trailer site. Plenty of trailers and docks but few people. Think! It’s dinner time, eh.
We eventually approached the bridge at the town of Cayuga. Time to head back downstream. John set up out trolling poles. He told me that he had given me a good lure. Diane took over the wheel and we trolled.
A hit! A fair-sized hit for john. A two foot gray-coloured fish came to the surface. “The net!” What a strange fish. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Elaine snapped some shots. John weighed the creature - two and a half pounds. This fish had a rounded tail like an ancient coelacanth. It had a large head and a mouth equipped with strong sharp teeth. It’s back was covered with a series of small fins. No keeper this! Back into the water but we had some photos. You regular fishermen know the species- the Bowfin.
It was growing dark when we arrived back at the Dunnville dock. It was a great trip on a great river. To be exact a Grand river.
***
I didn’t intend to lie but the response from cat lovers made me add another cat myth tale.
Cat lovers there are in Niagara. No doubt about it. One old friend questioned the existence of ‘Whitey’. Brother, Ed, confirmed to him that my pet cat did live. I have only fond memories of that favourite feline. Yes, my mother had no great love for cats but she never discouraged us from having them as pets as long as they stayed outside. She was always faithful in feeding them when we forgot our duties.
From the Buffalo News “Debunking some old cat tales.” Cats are a danger to babies. With two pregnant daughters should we be afraid?
Only one daughter has a pet house cat - a beautiful black and white feline named Daytona. She is truly a house cat. Here’s what Gina Spadafori of the News wrote. “Cats do not maliciously smother or suck the breath out of babies, as the myths hold. That doesn’t mean some considerations aren’t in order, however. Pregnant women have to take special precautions when cleaning the litter box - or have someone else do it - because of the risk of disease. Yes, even animal advocates remind new parents that common sense dictates no animal be left unattended with a small child - for the protection of both.”
Next: A well fed cat won’t hunt. Makes sense, eh?
Summer Almost Over
Summer almost Over Earl Plato
It was 6:30 a.m. at a church retreat on the lower Bruce Peninsula. Morning walk time in cold conditions. All alone at this most quiet time of the day. Ahead of me the sun was rising blinding me as I walked the road eastwards. Frost had covered the grassy fields. Then I heard them. Robins and more robins. This time of the year? I shaded my eyes and there in the spruces were at least twelve darker- backed robins. Was this a nature anomaly? Nature writer, Ed Teale, experienced my same scenario at his Massachusetts rural home. Here is part of Teale’s description on that October 29th years ago.
“Half a hundred of these darker-backed red-breasted robins are running - with characteristic stops and starts. ... they are the last of the migrating robins calling excitedly, landing and taking off.” Summer’s over and Fall has arrived.
***
Here is a last flashback in 2003 to warmer days. Memories of the John James Audubon historic house west of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania are still fresh to me. Daughter, Diane, and I had a half day while her husband, John, was at a conference in the city. North of the house in which Audubon had done much of his famous paintings of birds was a bubbling brook. Someone had placed stepping stones across the thirty foot wide stream. Convenient, for now after you tiptoed across you were among flowering shrubs and the multitude of songbirds. I recognized the melodious songs of the Baltimore orioles. Warblers galore but I knew only a few of their calls. What a glorious day to enjoy this great natural setting. Thank goodness for my camcorder for we have a lasting record. Take a little time to enjoy the past in nature. Recall those gems of the outdoors. Appreciate the work of the Creator, then search out new nature gems.
It was 6:30 a.m. at a church retreat on the lower Bruce Peninsula. Morning walk time in cold conditions. All alone at this most quiet time of the day. Ahead of me the sun was rising blinding me as I walked the road eastwards. Frost had covered the grassy fields. Then I heard them. Robins and more robins. This time of the year? I shaded my eyes and there in the spruces were at least twelve darker- backed robins. Was this a nature anomaly? Nature writer, Ed Teale, experienced my same scenario at his Massachusetts rural home. Here is part of Teale’s description on that October 29th years ago.
“Half a hundred of these darker-backed red-breasted robins are running - with characteristic stops and starts. ... they are the last of the migrating robins calling excitedly, landing and taking off.” Summer’s over and Fall has arrived.
***
Here is a last flashback in 2003 to warmer days. Memories of the John James Audubon historic house west of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania are still fresh to me. Daughter, Diane, and I had a half day while her husband, John, was at a conference in the city. North of the house in which Audubon had done much of his famous paintings of birds was a bubbling brook. Someone had placed stepping stones across the thirty foot wide stream. Convenient, for now after you tiptoed across you were among flowering shrubs and the multitude of songbirds. I recognized the melodious songs of the Baltimore orioles. Warblers galore but I knew only a few of their calls. What a glorious day to enjoy this great natural setting. Thank goodness for my camcorder for we have a lasting record. Take a little time to enjoy the past in nature. Recall those gems of the outdoors. Appreciate the work of the Creator, then search out new nature gems.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Flying High
Getting High Earl Plato
Old friend, the late JoAnne (Fiazza) Columbus and a fellow writer, shared this little anecdote recently. “Chris and I went to Florida one winter. We came across a good deal in ‘ritzy’ Vero Beach.” JoAnne described the ‘high class’ setting - tuxedos - evening gowns for dinner. She said “Chris and I were not in our element but the accommodations were right priced for us.” That’s not why JoAnne called. She had a nature story for me. It brought back memories for us both. Behind their Vero Beach hotel a strange scene was unfolding. A tree was filled with robins feeding on what JoAnne thought were choke cherries. On the ground robins were acting strangely. They ‘wibbled and wobbled.’ These birds that probably had migrated from Canada had become inebriated on the fermented choke cherries. “Drunken Canuck robins?
***
Internet research: Several bird species have been found to behave in a disorderly fashion after feeding on fermented fruit. That’s a fact. My best viewing was that of a Kingfisher at Point Abino one fall. The bird had fed on fermented grapes. “Loop-the-loops” and other erratic flying was the result. Quite a sight! Back to the Internet and the Starling. Research published recently reveals that Starlings have developed a powerful enzyme that keeps them sober! Wouldn’t you know it. One of my least favourite birds can handle the strongest drink! Any implications for humans?
***
Our little Bonaparte gulls are back on the Niagara River. What a delightful sight to see thirty or forty of these graceful gulls swoop down an up together along the river. Bonaparte? What’s in a name? Research tells us that the small delicate gull is named after a nephew of Napoleon.
Charles Lucien Bonaparte was a leading ornithologist in the 1800’s in America and Europe. A good name. Unfortunately a good meal for a Peregrine falcon recorded on my E-mail on December 15th.
Old friend, the late JoAnne (Fiazza) Columbus and a fellow writer, shared this little anecdote recently. “Chris and I went to Florida one winter. We came across a good deal in ‘ritzy’ Vero Beach.” JoAnne described the ‘high class’ setting - tuxedos - evening gowns for dinner. She said “Chris and I were not in our element but the accommodations were right priced for us.” That’s not why JoAnne called. She had a nature story for me. It brought back memories for us both. Behind their Vero Beach hotel a strange scene was unfolding. A tree was filled with robins feeding on what JoAnne thought were choke cherries. On the ground robins were acting strangely. They ‘wibbled and wobbled.’ These birds that probably had migrated from Canada had become inebriated on the fermented choke cherries. “Drunken Canuck robins?
***
Internet research: Several bird species have been found to behave in a disorderly fashion after feeding on fermented fruit. That’s a fact. My best viewing was that of a Kingfisher at Point Abino one fall. The bird had fed on fermented grapes. “Loop-the-loops” and other erratic flying was the result. Quite a sight! Back to the Internet and the Starling. Research published recently reveals that Starlings have developed a powerful enzyme that keeps them sober! Wouldn’t you know it. One of my least favourite birds can handle the strongest drink! Any implications for humans?
***
Our little Bonaparte gulls are back on the Niagara River. What a delightful sight to see thirty or forty of these graceful gulls swoop down an up together along the river. Bonaparte? What’s in a name? Research tells us that the small delicate gull is named after a nephew of Napoleon.
Charles Lucien Bonaparte was a leading ornithologist in the 1800’s in America and Europe. A good name. Unfortunately a good meal for a Peregrine falcon recorded on my E-mail on December 15th.
Think small, really small
Think small, really small Earl Plato
“Faster than a speeding bullet?” Not quite. That ‘blur’ that went by us was a bird. I am sitting on my daughter and son-in-law’s porch in Wainfleet overlooking the Welland River. The ‘bullet’ went by and then in a second returned and hovered at the feeder. The Ruby-throated hummingbird, its wings truly a blur, was feasting at Diane’s feeder. She keeps it clean and faithfully refills the container. She has established loyal and healthy customers.
This smallest of all of our birds is attracted to tubular flowers such as trumpet flowers. I was told that in the wild - plants such as bee-balm of Shagbark Trail, jewelweed at Marcy’s Woods, thistle and petunia serve as sources of food. At their Wainfleet home Diane has filled the artificial feeder with a mixture of honey and coloured sugar water. Of course the colour is red.
Hummingbirds have remarkable powers of flight. You know what I mean. As far as I know they are only birds that can fly backwards and hover in one spot. Amazing!
“Humming” - that’s the sound they make in flight thus their name. Are you lucky to have a pair near your home?
Writer’s note: Magazine Birder’s World suggests two or more feeders if you are lucky to have more than one pair. These little guys are very territorial and will fight for area control.
At Ridgeway Fest this past July a lady brought in a Ruby-throated hummingbird’s nest to us at the Bert Miller Nature Club stand. The nest was only about two inches wide. She told us the neatly woven nest was held together with spider silk. Spider silk? Yes.
***
My recent article on the killdeer received telephone responses from Niagara Falls and Fort Erie. Moreover, Jean Davis of Pound Avenue wrote me a two page letter telling of her love for these birds. Jean is just a block away from Sunset Drive and Ken Benner’s killdeer site. In her interesting letter about a mother killdeer being snatched off her nest. I quote Jean as follows: “... morning arrived and when I looked at the ‘empty’ nest there was a killdeer sitting on those eggs. Believe it or not, he stayed there on the nest for about three weeks until the babies were hatched. I was absolutely amazed.” Note: Jean said “he”. Yes, this was a ‘father’ delivery! Ask her why. Love those killdeers.
“Faster than a speeding bullet?” Not quite. That ‘blur’ that went by us was a bird. I am sitting on my daughter and son-in-law’s porch in Wainfleet overlooking the Welland River. The ‘bullet’ went by and then in a second returned and hovered at the feeder. The Ruby-throated hummingbird, its wings truly a blur, was feasting at Diane’s feeder. She keeps it clean and faithfully refills the container. She has established loyal and healthy customers.
This smallest of all of our birds is attracted to tubular flowers such as trumpet flowers. I was told that in the wild - plants such as bee-balm of Shagbark Trail, jewelweed at Marcy’s Woods, thistle and petunia serve as sources of food. At their Wainfleet home Diane has filled the artificial feeder with a mixture of honey and coloured sugar water. Of course the colour is red.
Hummingbirds have remarkable powers of flight. You know what I mean. As far as I know they are only birds that can fly backwards and hover in one spot. Amazing!
“Humming” - that’s the sound they make in flight thus their name. Are you lucky to have a pair near your home?
Writer’s note: Magazine Birder’s World suggests two or more feeders if you are lucky to have more than one pair. These little guys are very territorial and will fight for area control.
At Ridgeway Fest this past July a lady brought in a Ruby-throated hummingbird’s nest to us at the Bert Miller Nature Club stand. The nest was only about two inches wide. She told us the neatly woven nest was held together with spider silk. Spider silk? Yes.
***
My recent article on the killdeer received telephone responses from Niagara Falls and Fort Erie. Moreover, Jean Davis of Pound Avenue wrote me a two page letter telling of her love for these birds. Jean is just a block away from Sunset Drive and Ken Benner’s killdeer site. In her interesting letter about a mother killdeer being snatched off her nest. I quote Jean as follows: “... morning arrived and when I looked at the ‘empty’ nest there was a killdeer sitting on those eggs. Believe it or not, he stayed there on the nest for about three weeks until the babies were hatched. I was absolutely amazed.” Note: Jean said “he”. Yes, this was a ‘father’ delivery! Ask her why. Love those killdeers.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Fly and Fall
NN1506 Earl Plato
I don’t know if they believed me. I had just described my sighting many years ago of a Southern flying squirrel at the entrance to Marcy Woods. Here in late October the Special Needs Class of St.Paul’s High School and some parents and helpers listened to my oft repeated spiel. We stopped at the site of our sighting. “One early morning Ray Willwerth and I saw a southern flying squirrel glide from the high top of that spruce tree over there. It sailed several feet and landed over there at the top of another spruce. I knew what I saw for I had seen flying squirrel sbefore. The word is ‘glide’ not ‘fly.’ The Ministry of Natural Resources did a study of Marcy Woods and found at least three pairs of these unique squirrels there. They are mainly nocturnal creatures so it’s as an unusual sight.” What do you know about this Carolinian mammal?
Not much you say. You need to be in the woods at night and luckily your flashlight will reveal the large bright shiining bkack eyes of this miniscule squirrel. It is a very small squirrel with a silky fur coat. The ones I saw were grayish-brown on top and white underneath. It has a fkattened gra-brown tail. Think small. Length from 7 3/4 inches (198 mm) to 10 1/8 inches (255 mm.). Shagbark Trail enthusiasts listen. They like shagbark hickory, beech and maple trees. Let’s import some of these attractive squirrels, eh?
***
A lesson of life. Polio, a dreadful disease of the 1930’s, and I had it.
The result? Some atrophy on my right side. A right foot arch drawn up and shortened. Worst of all a permanent imbalance. Before polio I climbed tall trees and high up our old barn. Fearless, they said. Now at age 10 I would have to learn to ride all over. I found it was easier to balance on the bike by pushing off and moving than to balance a motionless bike. I fell again and again. I tried again and again. There were some hard falls and scrapes on arms and knees. Sometimes brother Ed would give me a push. I needed to have motion. Gary Stanley once wrote, “It was kind of trying to convince a baby bird that once out of its nest it would do what it never had done - fly. That kind of thinking needed a push to get started!” Finally I could ride but with many a fall. I conquered the skill and with continued practice I learned to compensate and ride no handed. What a thrill of accomplishment!
Life can be a matter of falls but with determination and a faith in a caring God you can get up and try again.
I don’t know if they believed me. I had just described my sighting many years ago of a Southern flying squirrel at the entrance to Marcy Woods. Here in late October the Special Needs Class of St.Paul’s High School and some parents and helpers listened to my oft repeated spiel. We stopped at the site of our sighting. “One early morning Ray Willwerth and I saw a southern flying squirrel glide from the high top of that spruce tree over there. It sailed several feet and landed over there at the top of another spruce. I knew what I saw for I had seen flying squirrel sbefore. The word is ‘glide’ not ‘fly.’ The Ministry of Natural Resources did a study of Marcy Woods and found at least three pairs of these unique squirrels there. They are mainly nocturnal creatures so it’s as an unusual sight.” What do you know about this Carolinian mammal?
Not much you say. You need to be in the woods at night and luckily your flashlight will reveal the large bright shiining bkack eyes of this miniscule squirrel. It is a very small squirrel with a silky fur coat. The ones I saw were grayish-brown on top and white underneath. It has a fkattened gra-brown tail. Think small. Length from 7 3/4 inches (198 mm) to 10 1/8 inches (255 mm.). Shagbark Trail enthusiasts listen. They like shagbark hickory, beech and maple trees. Let’s import some of these attractive squirrels, eh?
***
A lesson of life. Polio, a dreadful disease of the 1930’s, and I had it.
The result? Some atrophy on my right side. A right foot arch drawn up and shortened. Worst of all a permanent imbalance. Before polio I climbed tall trees and high up our old barn. Fearless, they said. Now at age 10 I would have to learn to ride all over. I found it was easier to balance on the bike by pushing off and moving than to balance a motionless bike. I fell again and again. I tried again and again. There were some hard falls and scrapes on arms and knees. Sometimes brother Ed would give me a push. I needed to have motion. Gary Stanley once wrote, “It was kind of trying to convince a baby bird that once out of its nest it would do what it never had done - fly. That kind of thinking needed a push to get started!” Finally I could ride but with many a fall. I conquered the skill and with continued practice I learned to compensate and ride no handed. What a thrill of accomplishment!
Life can be a matter of falls but with determination and a faith in a caring God you can get up and try again.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Funny Tracks, eh?
Funny Tracks, eh ? Earl Plato
We are on the Lower Trail at Marcy Woods. My quest are for animal tracks. Of all the tracks I have seen there is one that I have never recognized at Marcys. I told owner Dino Jr. that I had seen that Carolinian transplant, the opossums’ dead bodies, on Point Abino Road, Mitchener Road, and last year even on Matthews Road. These three roads surround the Marcy farm property north of Marcy Woods. Point? There must be some opossums in the Woods. I told Dino Jr. that I love tracking animals. I have three animal track books - The largest and most complete is the Peterson Guide book. Great for reference but too bulky to carry at least for me. Friend, Erin, gave me a more compact one, Animal Tracks Ontario, by Ian Sheldon. It’s my favourite. One I had for years is the convenient, Track Finder, by Dorcas Miller. Tattered and torn it now rates below the Sheldon book. Opossums or possums, what do you know about them and their tracks?
Some fifty years now this slow moving marsupial from the Carolinas has lived in Southern Ontario. That’s my guess. I have had some exciting encounters with the ‘possum. That’s another story. It’s the unusual tracks it makes that I find interesting. I have seen them in mud and yes, even in the snow during the warmer weeks of winter as late as in 2002. I remember the unusual hind print next or beside the fore print. Once you have seen the ‘possum’s rear foot print you won’t forget it. The long, distinctive , inward-pointing thumb is unique. No other mammal has such a footprint. I have seen one possum with a shortened tail. Normally the long-naked tail makes a line in the snow as it rambles along. This thinly haired animal can suffer from frost bite and as a result the unprotected tail suffers irreparable damage and part may fall off. Remember that it’s primarily an animal of the Carolinas and warmer temperatures. Look for the tell tale opossum tracks.
***
Joyce Berry of Ridgeway (Thunder Bay) has photos of local opossums. John Day of Ridgeway has three ‘possums visitors on a regular basis.
John feeds them and knows quite a bit of their daily habits. After several decades of its presence in Southern Ontario let’s accept this southern transplant as a natural citizen.
We are on the Lower Trail at Marcy Woods. My quest are for animal tracks. Of all the tracks I have seen there is one that I have never recognized at Marcys. I told owner Dino Jr. that I had seen that Carolinian transplant, the opossums’ dead bodies, on Point Abino Road, Mitchener Road, and last year even on Matthews Road. These three roads surround the Marcy farm property north of Marcy Woods. Point? There must be some opossums in the Woods. I told Dino Jr. that I love tracking animals. I have three animal track books - The largest and most complete is the Peterson Guide book. Great for reference but too bulky to carry at least for me. Friend, Erin, gave me a more compact one, Animal Tracks Ontario, by Ian Sheldon. It’s my favourite. One I had for years is the convenient, Track Finder, by Dorcas Miller. Tattered and torn it now rates below the Sheldon book. Opossums or possums, what do you know about them and their tracks?
Some fifty years now this slow moving marsupial from the Carolinas has lived in Southern Ontario. That’s my guess. I have had some exciting encounters with the ‘possum. That’s another story. It’s the unusual tracks it makes that I find interesting. I have seen them in mud and yes, even in the snow during the warmer weeks of winter as late as in 2002. I remember the unusual hind print next or beside the fore print. Once you have seen the ‘possum’s rear foot print you won’t forget it. The long, distinctive , inward-pointing thumb is unique. No other mammal has such a footprint. I have seen one possum with a shortened tail. Normally the long-naked tail makes a line in the snow as it rambles along. This thinly haired animal can suffer from frost bite and as a result the unprotected tail suffers irreparable damage and part may fall off. Remember that it’s primarily an animal of the Carolinas and warmer temperatures. Look for the tell tale opossum tracks.
***
Joyce Berry of Ridgeway (Thunder Bay) has photos of local opossums. John Day of Ridgeway has three ‘possums visitors on a regular basis.
John feeds them and knows quite a bit of their daily habits. After several decades of its presence in Southern Ontario let’s accept this southern transplant as a natural citizen.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
That's Boring!
That’s Boring! Earl Plato
“That’s boring.” That’s a daily comment among many of our young people. I’ve heard it for years. As an old educator I say, “get them hooked.” Hooked! Perhaps that’s not the best word. But think about it. Young people today are bombarded from all sides with scenes of violence, sexual explicitness, drug addiction from peer pressure and so-called alcoholic pleasures.. Why? These forces are determined to get them “hooked.” Yes, this is not an easy world as we have entered 2006 A.D. for our young people to grow up in. Mass killings haave occurred in the high schools in North America shocking? Sickening? Yes. These youths had headed the wrong way in life. They were bored with the wholesome and ordinary life of a teenager that the great percentage of our young people have accepted. At Backus Woods near Long Point, Ontario several years ago I saw fifty plus high school students being “hooked.” They waded into the stream collecting frogs and salamanders and water insects. They were fascinated with their discoveries. Some entered Backus Woods to study mammals, trees and wildflowers. No boredom here. I know you might say, “These are exceptional students.” Not so, according to Gwen, the coordinator. This was an ordinary Grade Ten class who had come to the Outdoor Centre each year since Grade Six. They were being “hooked” on nature. You know what? I believe that their general outlook on life as a result of involvement in nature will be affected for the good. Personally the fact that the late Bert Miller, great Fort Erie naturalist, influenced many of us in our youth by encouraging us to uncover the mysteries of our natural Creation. He made a lifelong positive influence on us. The forming of the Bert Miller nature Club of Greater Fort Erie is one result. There are many ways to get your children “hooked” on positive things and ideas. We sent our children to church camps for years and now our grandchildren are going. The pluses from such involvement is great. I have never heard from them the words, “We were bored.” This writer has a great love for history and specifically local history. Get your child hooked” on exploring the past. Become bored? I don’t think so. Team sports, properly coached, are always character builders in our youth. Do something this summer that will have a positive effect on your children or grandchildren for life. Get them “hooked” for “Good.!”
“That’s boring.” That’s a daily comment among many of our young people. I’ve heard it for years. As an old educator I say, “get them hooked.” Hooked! Perhaps that’s not the best word. But think about it. Young people today are bombarded from all sides with scenes of violence, sexual explicitness, drug addiction from peer pressure and so-called alcoholic pleasures.. Why? These forces are determined to get them “hooked.” Yes, this is not an easy world as we have entered 2006 A.D. for our young people to grow up in. Mass killings haave occurred in the high schools in North America shocking? Sickening? Yes. These youths had headed the wrong way in life. They were bored with the wholesome and ordinary life of a teenager that the great percentage of our young people have accepted. At Backus Woods near Long Point, Ontario several years ago I saw fifty plus high school students being “hooked.” They waded into the stream collecting frogs and salamanders and water insects. They were fascinated with their discoveries. Some entered Backus Woods to study mammals, trees and wildflowers. No boredom here. I know you might say, “These are exceptional students.” Not so, according to Gwen, the coordinator. This was an ordinary Grade Ten class who had come to the Outdoor Centre each year since Grade Six. They were being “hooked” on nature. You know what? I believe that their general outlook on life as a result of involvement in nature will be affected for the good. Personally the fact that the late Bert Miller, great Fort Erie naturalist, influenced many of us in our youth by encouraging us to uncover the mysteries of our natural Creation. He made a lifelong positive influence on us. The forming of the Bert Miller nature Club of Greater Fort Erie is one result. There are many ways to get your children “hooked” on positive things and ideas. We sent our children to church camps for years and now our grandchildren are going. The pluses from such involvement is great. I have never heard from them the words, “We were bored.” This writer has a great love for history and specifically local history. Get your child hooked” on exploring the past. Become bored? I don’t think so. Team sports, properly coached, are always character builders in our youth. Do something this summer that will have a positive effect on your children or grandchildren for life. Get them “hooked” for “Good.!”
Gone but not Forgotten
Gone but not forgotten Earl Plato
At one family dinner at daughter Diane O’Brien’s place in Wainfleet this year I suggested that we raise a toast to remember our loved ones who had passed on. We have photos and all kinds of memorabilia to refresh our memories of good times with them. Keeping family records is important to me. However, what I am to write about was inspired by nature writer Ed Teale’s log. It’s not about relatives but about an unusual bird that has become extinct no thanks to man. “Gone but not forgotten.” No, it’s not the Passenger pigeon. I recalled seeing this bird so I turned to my albums on Norway and Scandinavia. On our way to Oslo where some of our relatives live we spent some time in Copenhagen, Denmark. Those who know me know I want to see every castle and museum there is. We toured Hamlet’s Elsinore (Kronburg) castle, the Royal Residence and the Royal University Museum. It is there in the museum we saw it. There was the actual body and viscera of the Great Auk. That huge bird was described in the 16th century as “large, black and white flightless “penguins.” Perhaps as early as the 12th century Viking explorers on Newfoundland’s rocky shores met up with the Great Auk. Why else would this North American bird be on display in a Danish museum? The large bird about the size of a big goose was slow moving . Although a good swimmer, it was awkward on land. What I recall seeing in the museum was a bird with a short tail and short wings like a penguin. Snap happy as I am I did not get a photo for my album. I have since researched it on the net to no avail. Maybe you can. In May, 1524, Jacques Cartier visited storm-swept Funk Island off the coast of Newfoundland. His records tell us that this rocky outpost was swarming with large black and white birds. The birds, unaccustomed to men, showed little fear. Like the amiable Dodo bird of the South Pacific their slaughter by Cartier’s men was made easy. Later a 17th century English writer in England expressed the prevailing attitude toward these birds. “God made the innocencie of so poor A creature to become such an admirable instrument for the substenation of man.” Translated it means to me - kill all these auks - that’s what they are there for - for man to eat - so eat away. Yes, they were mainly killed for food. They were also butchered to provide bait for the fishing fleets on the Grand Banks. They were then slaughtered for their feathers - which were removed by immersing them in scalding water. The fat-filled bodies of the discarded auks were used as fuel for boiling the water. And so it continued. The inevitable is recorded. The last day on which a Great auk viewed the world its kind had known for so long was June 3, 1844. That’s about 50 years or so before our last Passenger pigeons were wiped out by man.
At one family dinner at daughter Diane O’Brien’s place in Wainfleet this year I suggested that we raise a toast to remember our loved ones who had passed on. We have photos and all kinds of memorabilia to refresh our memories of good times with them. Keeping family records is important to me. However, what I am to write about was inspired by nature writer Ed Teale’s log. It’s not about relatives but about an unusual bird that has become extinct no thanks to man. “Gone but not forgotten.” No, it’s not the Passenger pigeon. I recalled seeing this bird so I turned to my albums on Norway and Scandinavia. On our way to Oslo where some of our relatives live we spent some time in Copenhagen, Denmark. Those who know me know I want to see every castle and museum there is. We toured Hamlet’s Elsinore (Kronburg) castle, the Royal Residence and the Royal University Museum. It is there in the museum we saw it. There was the actual body and viscera of the Great Auk. That huge bird was described in the 16th century as “large, black and white flightless “penguins.” Perhaps as early as the 12th century Viking explorers on Newfoundland’s rocky shores met up with the Great Auk. Why else would this North American bird be on display in a Danish museum? The large bird about the size of a big goose was slow moving . Although a good swimmer, it was awkward on land. What I recall seeing in the museum was a bird with a short tail and short wings like a penguin. Snap happy as I am I did not get a photo for my album. I have since researched it on the net to no avail. Maybe you can. In May, 1524, Jacques Cartier visited storm-swept Funk Island off the coast of Newfoundland. His records tell us that this rocky outpost was swarming with large black and white birds. The birds, unaccustomed to men, showed little fear. Like the amiable Dodo bird of the South Pacific their slaughter by Cartier’s men was made easy. Later a 17th century English writer in England expressed the prevailing attitude toward these birds. “God made the innocencie of so poor A creature to become such an admirable instrument for the substenation of man.” Translated it means to me - kill all these auks - that’s what they are there for - for man to eat - so eat away. Yes, they were mainly killed for food. They were also butchered to provide bait for the fishing fleets on the Grand Banks. They were then slaughtered for their feathers - which were removed by immersing them in scalding water. The fat-filled bodies of the discarded auks were used as fuel for boiling the water. And so it continued. The inevitable is recorded. The last day on which a Great auk viewed the world its kind had known for so long was June 3, 1844. That’s about 50 years or so before our last Passenger pigeons were wiped out by man.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Night Sky!
In the Night Earl Plato
“What are you doing?” When Rob Eberly, naturalist of Ridgeway, asks you that question,, you never know what to expect. “Pick you up at twenty to eight.”
We were heading to Point Abino light house! That’s right. At night and onto this private enclave to see radar. Radar? We met Dr. John Black of Brock University at the gate. With a swipe of his entry card the three of us in his car drove under the lifted gate. Dr. Black is a scientist who had a purpose and the Point Abino lighthouse was the setting. We drove up to his recreational vehicle parked on the rise opposite the beautiful historic lighthouse. Truly a great sight as a crescent of a moon shone down ont the white edifice and reflections danced on the water. There down onthe rocky shore was an apparatus spinning around and around. It was a radar setup connected by imbilical cord to the power in the rec vehicle. Around and around the concave head collected the data from the ever growing dark sky. What goes on here?
Dr. Black is the man who had this apparatus set up in the Brock Tower, Inside his van he had a computer and monitor to record “things flying by in the night!”
His night data was not only collected but saved for future use. John Black is a scientist who is recording the incoming life across Lake Erie be it insects or nigrating birds. “19,000 birds recorded one night,” he said. Local Point Abino resident, Mr. Logan, who lives near the lighthouse, questioned Dr. Black, “What will we see tonight?” He said that he would return later.
Rob and I watched the doctor as he pointed out on the monitor. “They come in from the southwest, the prevailing winds this night, and exit on the northeast side of the screen. Watch and watch. Remember that he’s a scientist. Twenty minutes the info was collected then a break of ten minutes when the computer organized the data. “1,760.” We had been watching a swarm of insects about 600 metres up (circa 2,000 ft.) Again theprocess. Even less this time. No birds - hardly any.
It was approaching ten when the blips of larger objects started to appear. Birds!
These migrating birds were passing over the Point Abino area for destinations across Lake Ontario. “The ones we see on the records come morning are the ones landing in the Point Abino-Marcy’s Woods area.”
Each morning that Dr. Black had used the radar he would return to his van and collect the data from the previous night. What a great way to gather information. We who live in the Point Abino area and Marcy’s Woods can go out early in the morning and see the various species that migrate through here.
Dr. Black, a Physics professor, and a genius in my eyes, drew up the plans and had fellow helpers construct this experimental apparatus. He hopes that the data will help sole some of the puzzles he encounters. He told us about plans for a huge net that he could open up from the window of a small plane and collect some of the insects he had sighted on his radar. Ragonfles - night moths? He’s serious. Remember true scientists are always planning ways effectively to collect data.
Thanks Rob for the invite. Thanks Dr. Black. Anytime.
“What are you doing?” When Rob Eberly, naturalist of Ridgeway, asks you that question,, you never know what to expect. “Pick you up at twenty to eight.”
We were heading to Point Abino light house! That’s right. At night and onto this private enclave to see radar. Radar? We met Dr. John Black of Brock University at the gate. With a swipe of his entry card the three of us in his car drove under the lifted gate. Dr. Black is a scientist who had a purpose and the Point Abino lighthouse was the setting. We drove up to his recreational vehicle parked on the rise opposite the beautiful historic lighthouse. Truly a great sight as a crescent of a moon shone down ont the white edifice and reflections danced on the water. There down onthe rocky shore was an apparatus spinning around and around. It was a radar setup connected by imbilical cord to the power in the rec vehicle. Around and around the concave head collected the data from the ever growing dark sky. What goes on here?
Dr. Black is the man who had this apparatus set up in the Brock Tower, Inside his van he had a computer and monitor to record “things flying by in the night!”
His night data was not only collected but saved for future use. John Black is a scientist who is recording the incoming life across Lake Erie be it insects or nigrating birds. “19,000 birds recorded one night,” he said. Local Point Abino resident, Mr. Logan, who lives near the lighthouse, questioned Dr. Black, “What will we see tonight?” He said that he would return later.
Rob and I watched the doctor as he pointed out on the monitor. “They come in from the southwest, the prevailing winds this night, and exit on the northeast side of the screen. Watch and watch. Remember that he’s a scientist. Twenty minutes the info was collected then a break of ten minutes when the computer organized the data. “1,760.” We had been watching a swarm of insects about 600 metres up (circa 2,000 ft.) Again theprocess. Even less this time. No birds - hardly any.
It was approaching ten when the blips of larger objects started to appear. Birds!
These migrating birds were passing over the Point Abino area for destinations across Lake Ontario. “The ones we see on the records come morning are the ones landing in the Point Abino-Marcy’s Woods area.”
Each morning that Dr. Black had used the radar he would return to his van and collect the data from the previous night. What a great way to gather information. We who live in the Point Abino area and Marcy’s Woods can go out early in the morning and see the various species that migrate through here.
Dr. Black, a Physics professor, and a genius in my eyes, drew up the plans and had fellow helpers construct this experimental apparatus. He hopes that the data will help sole some of the puzzles he encounters. He told us about plans for a huge net that he could open up from the window of a small plane and collect some of the insects he had sighted on his radar. Ragonfles - night moths? He’s serious. Remember true scientists are always planning ways effectively to collect data.
Thanks Rob for the invite. Thanks Dr. Black. Anytime.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Caves anyone?
Caves anyone? Earl Plato
Finally we made it to Bonnechere Caves. Twice in other drives we missed it - first too early - second too late. Smarten up Plato - use the Internet. We did and our trip to Egansville southwest of Pembroke saw us arrive at the Caves on a warm late summer day. I wore short sleeves, no sweater or jacket like the girls. Even on the hottest day in summer the caves are cool. They say, “... for your comfort wear a sweater.”
Do I like caves? Not really. I have been in some enormous caves. But this relatively small limestone cave in the Ottawa Valley has its own underground beauty. Tours every half hour - circa $9.00 for Seniors.
It’s quite primitive in its setting - from an old log cabin as the Visitor Centre you see a display of ancient geological specimens. A young high school senior was our guide. I asked some questions about eurypterids. She smiled and said, “I don’t know.” There were crinoids, arthopods, and fossil plants all specimens that you could hold and examine. Our young guide had a rehearsed presentation that my questions could not deter.
We walked the gravel pathway and entered the steps down some 100 feet plus into a cool surrounding of wet limestone walls. Yes, there were small stalactites on either side. There were the inevitable side tunnels. At the lowest point our guide told us she would switch the lights off. Utter darkness. Hand in front of your face - no see.
The twisting passageways wind through the rock cut by the tireless action of water on limestone.
Entombed in the rock on the one wall and preserved for ever were fossils of coral and sea creatures. Neat. The Caves were discovered in 1851 and opened to the public in 1955. A little slice of nature in the Ottawa Valley - Bonnechere Caves..
Back at the little centre my guide introduced me to the manager and local high school science teacher. “Ask him, he’s an amateur geologist.”
I did. Satisfaction, eh.
Writer’s Note: We were told of the little brown bats that inhabit Bonnechere Caves in the off season, Hundreds of the little mammals make their home in the caves after the Bonnechere River is diverted into the passageways. There is still a lot of room for 400-600 bats to winter over in protected comfort. Come Spring the river is rediverted and the bats move out for the several months that humans explore the caves.
Like something different in nature? Try a visit to Bonnechere Caves in season.
Finally we made it to Bonnechere Caves. Twice in other drives we missed it - first too early - second too late. Smarten up Plato - use the Internet. We did and our trip to Egansville southwest of Pembroke saw us arrive at the Caves on a warm late summer day. I wore short sleeves, no sweater or jacket like the girls. Even on the hottest day in summer the caves are cool. They say, “... for your comfort wear a sweater.”
Do I like caves? Not really. I have been in some enormous caves. But this relatively small limestone cave in the Ottawa Valley has its own underground beauty. Tours every half hour - circa $9.00 for Seniors.
It’s quite primitive in its setting - from an old log cabin as the Visitor Centre you see a display of ancient geological specimens. A young high school senior was our guide. I asked some questions about eurypterids. She smiled and said, “I don’t know.” There were crinoids, arthopods, and fossil plants all specimens that you could hold and examine. Our young guide had a rehearsed presentation that my questions could not deter.
We walked the gravel pathway and entered the steps down some 100 feet plus into a cool surrounding of wet limestone walls. Yes, there were small stalactites on either side. There were the inevitable side tunnels. At the lowest point our guide told us she would switch the lights off. Utter darkness. Hand in front of your face - no see.
The twisting passageways wind through the rock cut by the tireless action of water on limestone.
Entombed in the rock on the one wall and preserved for ever were fossils of coral and sea creatures. Neat. The Caves were discovered in 1851 and opened to the public in 1955. A little slice of nature in the Ottawa Valley - Bonnechere Caves..
Back at the little centre my guide introduced me to the manager and local high school science teacher. “Ask him, he’s an amateur geologist.”
I did. Satisfaction, eh.
Writer’s Note: We were told of the little brown bats that inhabit Bonnechere Caves in the off season, Hundreds of the little mammals make their home in the caves after the Bonnechere River is diverted into the passageways. There is still a lot of room for 400-600 bats to winter over in protected comfort. Come Spring the river is rediverted and the bats move out for the several months that humans explore the caves.
Like something different in nature? Try a visit to Bonnechere Caves in season.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Hawk & Owl Times
Nature Article nn2802 by Earl Plato
As I age I tend to look back more. Five years ago I wrote the following article. Good memories, but I think we should look more to presnt nature opportunities. Plan for future events. Make it happen!
“Retired people can just drive around looking for things. George and I were looking for hawks. George picked me up and in his truck we roamed `the back roads of Fort Erie, Port Colborne and a portion of Niagara Falls. We saw 12 red-tailed hawks in our mid-week morning drive. George sighted one red-tail with very white coloured under wings. A white morph, I thought. The bird flew, as Buteos do, circling leisurely to the east. Then George said, ”Look back in the woods.” There were five more hawks perched in the trees. Their white breasts stood out as we looked at them with our bird glasses Now most of us who are hawk watchers know that the red-tail is seen usually alone. Could it be the start of match-making time? I think so.
We returned down Bowen Road. I wanted George to see the blue heron rookery. You know what? We didn’t see that many nests from last year. Did the major tree cutting affect the nesting sites? One red-tail hawk was perched below a few of the yet visible heron nests. I wonder.” ***
“It’s a Saturday and we’re on the road with Rob and Tim . This is good for me for both these naturalists are good birders. I’m the fortunate one. A half hour passed and no hawks. Out to Bertie Boat Club and then north. We had heard that the week before birders had gathered to sight a pileated woodpecker! No kidding. Unfortunately I was in a meeting about Point Abino lighthouse just a few hundred yards away. Do we have a pileated woodpecker , that giant of all woodpeckers in Fort Erie? Are they kidding me?
Over to Burger Road and then across to Ott Road and then we headed south. Tim saw them first. They looked like crows to me until we got closer. Perched high in the poplars on both sides of the road were five short-eared owls. Rob scoped two of them in a cedar tree. Tim looked next and said, “Look at their eyes.” I did. The dark face discs emphasized the yellow eyes. Spectacular look through the scope for the owls were in a shaded area among the trees and the contrast was great. We watched as more of these day hunting owls floated around in the sky “moth-like” looking for voles and meadow mice. Two landed in a juniper tree near the road. Yes, they are crow-sized. I counted about eight of these owls that day. Rob and Tim counted more. In a distant field to the west of Ott Road two birds were perched high in an old maple. They said, “Two more short-ears.” I couldn’t tell. I thought they could be crows. I didn’t argue.
Wife, Elaine, and I returned the next day and saw five short-eared owls at the same place. Four days later I returned with my brother, Ed, and the owls had moved on to better eating places. Check your bird book for these periodic visitors to Greater Fort Erie.”
As I age I tend to look back more. Five years ago I wrote the following article. Good memories, but I think we should look more to presnt nature opportunities. Plan for future events. Make it happen!
“Retired people can just drive around looking for things. George and I were looking for hawks. George picked me up and in his truck we roamed `the back roads of Fort Erie, Port Colborne and a portion of Niagara Falls. We saw 12 red-tailed hawks in our mid-week morning drive. George sighted one red-tail with very white coloured under wings. A white morph, I thought. The bird flew, as Buteos do, circling leisurely to the east. Then George said, ”Look back in the woods.” There were five more hawks perched in the trees. Their white breasts stood out as we looked at them with our bird glasses Now most of us who are hawk watchers know that the red-tail is seen usually alone. Could it be the start of match-making time? I think so.
We returned down Bowen Road. I wanted George to see the blue heron rookery. You know what? We didn’t see that many nests from last year. Did the major tree cutting affect the nesting sites? One red-tail hawk was perched below a few of the yet visible heron nests. I wonder.” ***
“It’s a Saturday and we’re on the road with Rob and Tim . This is good for me for both these naturalists are good birders. I’m the fortunate one. A half hour passed and no hawks. Out to Bertie Boat Club and then north. We had heard that the week before birders had gathered to sight a pileated woodpecker! No kidding. Unfortunately I was in a meeting about Point Abino lighthouse just a few hundred yards away. Do we have a pileated woodpecker , that giant of all woodpeckers in Fort Erie? Are they kidding me?
Over to Burger Road and then across to Ott Road and then we headed south. Tim saw them first. They looked like crows to me until we got closer. Perched high in the poplars on both sides of the road were five short-eared owls. Rob scoped two of them in a cedar tree. Tim looked next and said, “Look at their eyes.” I did. The dark face discs emphasized the yellow eyes. Spectacular look through the scope for the owls were in a shaded area among the trees and the contrast was great. We watched as more of these day hunting owls floated around in the sky “moth-like” looking for voles and meadow mice. Two landed in a juniper tree near the road. Yes, they are crow-sized. I counted about eight of these owls that day. Rob and Tim counted more. In a distant field to the west of Ott Road two birds were perched high in an old maple. They said, “Two more short-ears.” I couldn’t tell. I thought they could be crows. I didn’t argue.
Wife, Elaine, and I returned the next day and saw five short-eared owls at the same place. Four days later I returned with my brother, Ed, and the owls had moved on to better eating places. Check your bird book for these periodic visitors to Greater Fort Erie.”
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Ask the Bus Driver
Ask the Bus Driver Earl Plato
Extras on a bus trip holiday means to me finding some nature connections. On a Farr bus trip to Branson, Missouri our bus driver took us on a sidetrip to a State Fish Hatchery on the outskirts. Our driver had been there before and told me there was an interesting Nature Center on the location. It really was and I met the Ranger and spent over a good half hour learning about Missouri’s flora and fauna. I was given several booklets that were well presented. I still had time to see the fingerlings and full grown Brown trout. Looking for nature elements on a bus trip is usually one of my goals.
This Branson side trip was inspired by my questioning our bus driver about a dead snake. First off the bus I said, “That’s a young Diamond Back.” The driver agreed as he took a branch and threw the snake, three rattles and all to the left of the bus before we unloaded. “There’s a good nature center down there,” as he pointed to the large building below. “ They have a serpentarium in there.” “No need to tell the women and snake fearers,” he said. I still have those excellent full coloured booklets. It was a great side trip.
***
I really am an Andersen not an Anderson. “En” endings on surnames are usually Danish and Norwegian. “On” endings are usually Swedish. My grandfather came to America in the 1880’s and was asked his name at the immigration office. His reply was, “Andersen.” The officer wrote “Anderson” on his entry certificate and thus “e” became “o.” Anderson my family name would be. This day in July we were in “en” country, Denmark. Here we were, brother Ed and two cousins, in a beautiful country. We had just left the home city of Odense where famed story teller Hans Christian Andersen had worked and lived. We were travelling by Petersen Tours on a well appointed bus. Nature called and we had to stop. Where? You guessed it. It was a nature stop and I was thrilled. We were at the highest point in Denmark. Don’t get excited, This is essentially very flat land. We unloaded at the fabled Forest of Rold. Think of Fonthill topography with its rolling hills only with an abundance of trees covering the area.
“We’ll give you an hour,” the driver called out.
bridge leading into Forest of Rold
photo by Earl Plato
‘As old as a tree in the Forest of Rold ...” thus said an old Danish proverb. To stress the age of something really old in Denmark, one compared it with a tree in the Forest of Rold. I left the others and headed for the forest over the wooden bridge. Any ogres underneath? Old trees? The photo shows no towering trees. I was disappointed but I also knew that Earl can get lost despite his oft repeated belief that he can’t. Birds all around. Sparrows, warblers and the long-tailed Magpie hopped around the open areas. A great break for me. Hey, there was also a small concentration of Purple loosestrife here. The information signs were in several different languages. I taped the following as I read it out. “The Forest of Rold has trees of great age. There are 250-350 year -old stunted beeches in the “Bewitched Wood”.
Could I cross the bridge and head for the old forest? Nature called and I must head back. No one around me at this particular spot on that warm day with a faint nist-like rain falling.
Back at the administrative building I picked up a brochure in English and read about this neat place. There were legends of notorious robbers, cheerful poachers and colourful woodsmen. Where were my compatriots? I stepped out of the Centre and there were Ed, Winnie and Margot. They told me what I had missed. Many famous persons had come to this centre. Queen Margrethe 2nd and Prince Frederick of Denmark. Past Presidents George Bush, Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon wallked these paths and spoke from the platform across the way. Walt Disney, Danny Kaye, and other noted personalities had visited this great setting. We had only an hour but those other lucky visitors who had many more hours probably made it to the wonderful forest setting in “Bewitched Wood.”
Thanks to our bus driver who answered nature’s call that July day for this “nature nut”. Don’t be afraid to ask your bus driver about “nature” stops. You never know what you might experience.
Extras on a bus trip holiday means to me finding some nature connections. On a Farr bus trip to Branson, Missouri our bus driver took us on a sidetrip to a State Fish Hatchery on the outskirts. Our driver had been there before and told me there was an interesting Nature Center on the location. It really was and I met the Ranger and spent over a good half hour learning about Missouri’s flora and fauna. I was given several booklets that were well presented. I still had time to see the fingerlings and full grown Brown trout. Looking for nature elements on a bus trip is usually one of my goals.
This Branson side trip was inspired by my questioning our bus driver about a dead snake. First off the bus I said, “That’s a young Diamond Back.” The driver agreed as he took a branch and threw the snake, three rattles and all to the left of the bus before we unloaded. “There’s a good nature center down there,” as he pointed to the large building below. “ They have a serpentarium in there.” “No need to tell the women and snake fearers,” he said. I still have those excellent full coloured booklets. It was a great side trip.
***
I really am an Andersen not an Anderson. “En” endings on surnames are usually Danish and Norwegian. “On” endings are usually Swedish. My grandfather came to America in the 1880’s and was asked his name at the immigration office. His reply was, “Andersen.” The officer wrote “Anderson” on his entry certificate and thus “e” became “o.” Anderson my family name would be. This day in July we were in “en” country, Denmark. Here we were, brother Ed and two cousins, in a beautiful country. We had just left the home city of Odense where famed story teller Hans Christian Andersen had worked and lived. We were travelling by Petersen Tours on a well appointed bus. Nature called and we had to stop. Where? You guessed it. It was a nature stop and I was thrilled. We were at the highest point in Denmark. Don’t get excited, This is essentially very flat land. We unloaded at the fabled Forest of Rold. Think of Fonthill topography with its rolling hills only with an abundance of trees covering the area.
“We’ll give you an hour,” the driver called out.
bridge leading into Forest of Rold
photo by Earl Plato
‘As old as a tree in the Forest of Rold ...” thus said an old Danish proverb. To stress the age of something really old in Denmark, one compared it with a tree in the Forest of Rold. I left the others and headed for the forest over the wooden bridge. Any ogres underneath? Old trees? The photo shows no towering trees. I was disappointed but I also knew that Earl can get lost despite his oft repeated belief that he can’t. Birds all around. Sparrows, warblers and the long-tailed Magpie hopped around the open areas. A great break for me. Hey, there was also a small concentration of Purple loosestrife here. The information signs were in several different languages. I taped the following as I read it out. “The Forest of Rold has trees of great age. There are 250-350 year -old stunted beeches in the “Bewitched Wood”.
Could I cross the bridge and head for the old forest? Nature called and I must head back. No one around me at this particular spot on that warm day with a faint nist-like rain falling.
Back at the administrative building I picked up a brochure in English and read about this neat place. There were legends of notorious robbers, cheerful poachers and colourful woodsmen. Where were my compatriots? I stepped out of the Centre and there were Ed, Winnie and Margot. They told me what I had missed. Many famous persons had come to this centre. Queen Margrethe 2nd and Prince Frederick of Denmark. Past Presidents George Bush, Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon wallked these paths and spoke from the platform across the way. Walt Disney, Danny Kaye, and other noted personalities had visited this great setting. We had only an hour but those other lucky visitors who had many more hours probably made it to the wonderful forest setting in “Bewitched Wood.”
Thanks to our bus driver who answered nature’s call that July day for this “nature nut”. Don’t be afraid to ask your bus driver about “nature” stops. You never know what you might experience.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Eagles and Rocks
nn3701 Earl Plato
“It’s a ‘Throw-away world’ man! “If it wears out we just get a new one.” What’s the problem? The problem mankind has in this modern world that too many fail to realize that once we ‘throw-away’ something such as our endangered species there will be no new species available! We must care now!
Bob Chambers and I did not see any Bald eagles on our recent trip to the mouth of the Grand River. However, some miles to the west at Turkey Point “The discovery of a dead bald eagle in an abandoned nest in a tree...” Reporter Kate Barlow for Torstar news service tells us in her article entitled, Rare-species Charges Laid After Eaglet Found Dead. I call Bob the “Eagle Man” because of his great interest in this giant raptor. He gave me the Barlow article printed in the Hamilton Spectator.
Don’t harm the eagles or their habitat is the message. Under the Endangered Species Act of Ontario five people have been charged in the Simcoe area with 18 counts after several trees near the bald eagles’ nest were felled.
Listen to this - would be offenders. The maximum penalty per charge for a conviction under the Endangered Species Act is a $50,000 fine and two years’ imprisonment! That’s per charge! “The body of the eaglet was found ... during an investigation by Ministry Resource staff into the cutting down of several trees. The only tree left standing contained a bald eagle’s nest high in its branches.” The accused are to appear in Simcoe court.. I hope that justice is done. ***
What a Saturday! Sunshine and pleasant air conditions were ours on a day trip to Little Rock City in Little Valley, Cattaraugus County, Western New York. I have been to Panama Rocks and Rock City near Olean in that area. There you paid. This site was free! Why? Its location is difficult to reach but well worth it.
Finally after thirteen years I realized one of my goals to visit this remote natural phenomenon. I had underlined in the book by Margaret Wooster an interesting description of Rock City. The word ‘little’ did not appear on present day signs. Margaret’s description of how to get there was well detailed - too detailed for this Canadian. Fortunately for us our cousin Tom Hansen is an officer for NYS Environmental Police. Guess where he lives? Tom has ten acres and a impressive log cabin abutting up to 6,000 acres of a State forest. We were there for our annual Anderson Reunion and Tom mentioned Rock City. Hey, that’s the place I had wanted to visit for years. Now we had a man who knew the Cattaraugus area. “Follow me,” said Tom. Off we went American and Canadian relatives.
Tom had us there in a short time. Gravel roads all the way. We passed a CCC camp site. There were a few campers in this primitive setting. Old timers do you know what CCC stands for?
All of us from ages 16-82 arrived at Rock City. We unloaded chairs for the elderly to see us take off for down the trails. Yes, bad ankle and all I was determined to see Rock City. Those who know Niagara Glen and its huge rocks, winding paths and potholes would identify with Rock City.
Years of glaciation widened the stress fractures in these gigantic rocks of Rock City splitting them apart. Two hikers emerged from one deep split beside us. What a place for hide-and-seek games! These blocks have weathered and are covered with lichen and moss. You walk under rock bridges, squeeze through rock crannies, or do as we did leap across the crevices. Exciting? Yes. I hobbled along. I need more time. Tom Hansen told us, “Come back anytime especially in the fall when the leaves change and before the deer hunting season.” We will.
“It’s a ‘Throw-away world’ man! “If it wears out we just get a new one.” What’s the problem? The problem mankind has in this modern world that too many fail to realize that once we ‘throw-away’ something such as our endangered species there will be no new species available! We must care now!
Bob Chambers and I did not see any Bald eagles on our recent trip to the mouth of the Grand River. However, some miles to the west at Turkey Point “The discovery of a dead bald eagle in an abandoned nest in a tree...” Reporter Kate Barlow for Torstar news service tells us in her article entitled, Rare-species Charges Laid After Eaglet Found Dead. I call Bob the “Eagle Man” because of his great interest in this giant raptor. He gave me the Barlow article printed in the Hamilton Spectator.
Don’t harm the eagles or their habitat is the message. Under the Endangered Species Act of Ontario five people have been charged in the Simcoe area with 18 counts after several trees near the bald eagles’ nest were felled.
Listen to this - would be offenders. The maximum penalty per charge for a conviction under the Endangered Species Act is a $50,000 fine and two years’ imprisonment! That’s per charge! “The body of the eaglet was found ... during an investigation by Ministry Resource staff into the cutting down of several trees. The only tree left standing contained a bald eagle’s nest high in its branches.” The accused are to appear in Simcoe court.. I hope that justice is done. ***
What a Saturday! Sunshine and pleasant air conditions were ours on a day trip to Little Rock City in Little Valley, Cattaraugus County, Western New York. I have been to Panama Rocks and Rock City near Olean in that area. There you paid. This site was free! Why? Its location is difficult to reach but well worth it.
Finally after thirteen years I realized one of my goals to visit this remote natural phenomenon. I had underlined in the book by Margaret Wooster an interesting description of Rock City. The word ‘little’ did not appear on present day signs. Margaret’s description of how to get there was well detailed - too detailed for this Canadian. Fortunately for us our cousin Tom Hansen is an officer for NYS Environmental Police. Guess where he lives? Tom has ten acres and a impressive log cabin abutting up to 6,000 acres of a State forest. We were there for our annual Anderson Reunion and Tom mentioned Rock City. Hey, that’s the place I had wanted to visit for years. Now we had a man who knew the Cattaraugus area. “Follow me,” said Tom. Off we went American and Canadian relatives.
Tom had us there in a short time. Gravel roads all the way. We passed a CCC camp site. There were a few campers in this primitive setting. Old timers do you know what CCC stands for?
All of us from ages 16-82 arrived at Rock City. We unloaded chairs for the elderly to see us take off for down the trails. Yes, bad ankle and all I was determined to see Rock City. Those who know Niagara Glen and its huge rocks, winding paths and potholes would identify with Rock City.
Years of glaciation widened the stress fractures in these gigantic rocks of Rock City splitting them apart. Two hikers emerged from one deep split beside us. What a place for hide-and-seek games! These blocks have weathered and are covered with lichen and moss. You walk under rock bridges, squeeze through rock crannies, or do as we did leap across the crevices. Exciting? Yes. I hobbled along. I need more time. Tom Hansen told us, “Come back anytime especially in the fall when the leaves change and before the deer hunting season.” We will.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Once a Dump
Once a Landfill, eh Earl Plato
Have you been to Glenridge Quarry? It’s had an amazing transformation. The newly developed Glenridge Naturalization Site is worth a few hours visit at least. Bud and I arrived there on a cool morning. It’s located north of St. David’s Road just to the east of Brock University. We talked with a knowledgeable Niagara Peninsula Conservation Authority worker by the name of (Meesh?) He told us that the authority had taken over maintaining the Walker Brothers enterprise. He outlined what they hoped to accomplish in the future. We wanted to do the entire three trails and we did in a little over two hours. We started north on the compact stone Meadow Trail. Lots of bluebird boxes along the descending trail. Numerous butterflies - dark coloured Roadside skippers flitted across the path. Very dry as the vegetation was quite brown. Some rain is needed. Staghorn sumachs were along the way. Trees had been planted but the drought had done many in. A Science and Nature area in the open was there for children and school classes. There is an historic log cabin replica there. An amphitheatre made of huge blocks of limestone allowed a teacher to have a captive audience. From the first, interpretive panels were very useful in explaining the Walker Brothers reclamation project. Other hikers were on the trail too. They passed us and headed for the Bruce Trail connection. Yes, we walked north until we were on the Bruce Trail. Now wait, that wasn’t our intention. From the coolness of the woods we turned back to the main trail. To our east we could see a large expanse of water. Let’s head for it. Again a reminder the walking on the compacted stone grit is easy on the feet. Canada geese and mallards were in the immense pond. To our right we followed a narrow path to two well constructed docks. A small bullhead made its way around the interior pond. No one around at this very peaceful setting. The ducks seemed suspended on the pond’s surface. Not so. They were actually standing on a partially submerged rock. We had seen killdeers, swallows and now goldfinches flitted around the water’s edge with their flashes of bright yellow. Ahead of us was the Summit Overlook Trail but first we headed southeast to the Heritage Arboretum Trail. Bud remarked how pleasant the trail was through the shaded woods. We examined some of the Carolinian trees and shrubs there. Out in the sunlight we saw the trail leading up to the summit. We climbed the steep path. From here you have a panoramic view of the site and to the north - Lake Ontario. Time well spent.
Have you been to Glenridge Quarry? It’s had an amazing transformation. The newly developed Glenridge Naturalization Site is worth a few hours visit at least. Bud and I arrived there on a cool morning. It’s located north of St. David’s Road just to the east of Brock University. We talked with a knowledgeable Niagara Peninsula Conservation Authority worker by the name of (Meesh?) He told us that the authority had taken over maintaining the Walker Brothers enterprise. He outlined what they hoped to accomplish in the future. We wanted to do the entire three trails and we did in a little over two hours. We started north on the compact stone Meadow Trail. Lots of bluebird boxes along the descending trail. Numerous butterflies - dark coloured Roadside skippers flitted across the path. Very dry as the vegetation was quite brown. Some rain is needed. Staghorn sumachs were along the way. Trees had been planted but the drought had done many in. A Science and Nature area in the open was there for children and school classes. There is an historic log cabin replica there. An amphitheatre made of huge blocks of limestone allowed a teacher to have a captive audience. From the first, interpretive panels were very useful in explaining the Walker Brothers reclamation project. Other hikers were on the trail too. They passed us and headed for the Bruce Trail connection. Yes, we walked north until we were on the Bruce Trail. Now wait, that wasn’t our intention. From the coolness of the woods we turned back to the main trail. To our east we could see a large expanse of water. Let’s head for it. Again a reminder the walking on the compacted stone grit is easy on the feet. Canada geese and mallards were in the immense pond. To our right we followed a narrow path to two well constructed docks. A small bullhead made its way around the interior pond. No one around at this very peaceful setting. The ducks seemed suspended on the pond’s surface. Not so. They were actually standing on a partially submerged rock. We had seen killdeers, swallows and now goldfinches flitted around the water’s edge with their flashes of bright yellow. Ahead of us was the Summit Overlook Trail but first we headed southeast to the Heritage Arboretum Trail. Bud remarked how pleasant the trail was through the shaded woods. We examined some of the Carolinian trees and shrubs there. Out in the sunlight we saw the trail leading up to the summit. We climbed the steep path. From here you have a panoramic view of the site and to the north - Lake Ontario. Time well spent.
Rattle Time
Rattle Time in Ontario Earl Plato
Just west of Port Colborne we turned north onto a side road into Wainfleet Marsh years ago. Was it Beiderman’s or Young’s? I forget. Three ladies, Elaine, Edna and Alice went into the farmhouse at the end of the road to take some material to be made into some woven rugs. We were on the south end edge of Wainfleet Marsh. The owner, an old gentleman, came outside in the warm sunlight. I had seen some snake-like objects on the lawn north of the rambling farmhouse. He saw my interest and his never forgotten comment was, “Those are rattlers. Don’t hurt them. They won’t hurt you. Just sunning themselves.” To his left out on his lawn were, as I recall, two brownish-gray mottled-coloured snakes. They were Massasaugua rattlers confirmed by the farm house owner. To my dear wife and in-laws who emerged from the old house I said nothing at the time. My mother-in-law was and still is very afraid even of the mention of snakes, any kind, let alone rattlers. To this day I don’t think they believe what I saw. Believe me, I did.
Since my Wainfleet Marsh days I have never seen a Massasaugua rattlesnake in the wild. I have been into the Marsh several times over the years and of course wearing boots . No luck. How about you?
Note: The Massasaugua wants to avoid you. Most of them are less than three feet in length. It may shake its rattles to scare you off. Newly born Massasauguas don’t have a true rattle but a small button on the end of its tail. Later as it grows they shed their skin and the first segment of a rattle appears. Don’t let size fool you. Baby rattlesnakes have the same Venom that is just as toxic as their mother’s. The cute little things can do serious damage. Note: The Massasaugua has nine enlarged scales on its head. I never got close to check it out but believe me. Remember that in 1990 under the Ontario Game and Fish Act it became prohibited to harass, take or kill the Massasaugua rattler. That law still stands.
Just west of Port Colborne we turned north onto a side road into Wainfleet Marsh years ago. Was it Beiderman’s or Young’s? I forget. Three ladies, Elaine, Edna and Alice went into the farmhouse at the end of the road to take some material to be made into some woven rugs. We were on the south end edge of Wainfleet Marsh. The owner, an old gentleman, came outside in the warm sunlight. I had seen some snake-like objects on the lawn north of the rambling farmhouse. He saw my interest and his never forgotten comment was, “Those are rattlers. Don’t hurt them. They won’t hurt you. Just sunning themselves.” To his left out on his lawn were, as I recall, two brownish-gray mottled-coloured snakes. They were Massasaugua rattlers confirmed by the farm house owner. To my dear wife and in-laws who emerged from the old house I said nothing at the time. My mother-in-law was and still is very afraid even of the mention of snakes, any kind, let alone rattlers. To this day I don’t think they believe what I saw. Believe me, I did.
Since my Wainfleet Marsh days I have never seen a Massasaugua rattlesnake in the wild. I have been into the Marsh several times over the years and of course wearing boots . No luck. How about you?
Note: The Massasaugua wants to avoid you. Most of them are less than three feet in length. It may shake its rattles to scare you off. Newly born Massasauguas don’t have a true rattle but a small button on the end of its tail. Later as it grows they shed their skin and the first segment of a rattle appears. Don’t let size fool you. Baby rattlesnakes have the same Venom that is just as toxic as their mother’s. The cute little things can do serious damage. Note: The Massasaugua has nine enlarged scales on its head. I never got close to check it out but believe me. Remember that in 1990 under the Ontario Game and Fish Act it became prohibited to harass, take or kill the Massasaugua rattler. That law still stands.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Finally, Earl
Finally, Earl by Earl Plato
On Canada’s birthday I walked the paths of Trail Wood, the preserved home and acres of famed nature writer, Edwin Way Teale and his wife, Nellie. I had planned this trip to Hampton, Connecticut for some years. Here on Sunday, July 1st, 2007 we, wife Elaine, daughter Elizabeth and son-in-law Neil Cudney, on a beautiful sunny day, walked Ed Teale’s hallowed grounds. Our guide and caretaker of the 170 plus acres, Vern Pursley, showed us Teale’s study and collection of his extensive works. Vern took us outside and we walked Veery Lane to Teale’s l little writing cabin, named Summer House. With my gimpy knees I stepped carefully over the many tree roots. We walked along Fern Brook. The path here was blanketed on either side with Common ferns. We looked out on a beautiful pond. I took a snap of Vern our guide. No mosquitoes or black flies. Just a beautiful summer day. Pickerel weed was in bloom at the pond’s edge. We walked back through Firefly Meadow and ascended the hill to Teale’s cabin. A sulphur and a fritillary butterflies accompanied us. I took a shot of a huge Catalpa tree just to the north of the building. Vern took a shot of the four of us. Finally I did it.
Vern Pursley wasn’t finished with us. Kindly he lead us by his car to the Audubon Society headquarters in nearby Pomfret. Here I purchased three Teale books. Wandering Through Winter, Dune Boy, and A naturalist Buys an Old Farm. Mission accomplished, Earl.
On Canada’s birthday I walked the paths of Trail Wood, the preserved home and acres of famed nature writer, Edwin Way Teale and his wife, Nellie. I had planned this trip to Hampton, Connecticut for some years. Here on Sunday, July 1st, 2007 we, wife Elaine, daughter Elizabeth and son-in-law Neil Cudney, on a beautiful sunny day, walked Ed Teale’s hallowed grounds. Our guide and caretaker of the 170 plus acres, Vern Pursley, showed us Teale’s study and collection of his extensive works. Vern took us outside and we walked Veery Lane to Teale’s l little writing cabin, named Summer House. With my gimpy knees I stepped carefully over the many tree roots. We walked along Fern Brook. The path here was blanketed on either side with Common ferns. We looked out on a beautiful pond. I took a snap of Vern our guide. No mosquitoes or black flies. Just a beautiful summer day. Pickerel weed was in bloom at the pond’s edge. We walked back through Firefly Meadow and ascended the hill to Teale’s cabin. A sulphur and a fritillary butterflies accompanied us. I took a shot of a huge Catalpa tree just to the north of the building. Vern took a shot of the four of us. Finally I did it.
Vern Pursley wasn’t finished with us. Kindly he lead us by his car to the Audubon Society headquarters in nearby Pomfret. Here I purchased three Teale books. Wandering Through Winter, Dune Boy, and A naturalist Buys an Old Farm. Mission accomplished, Earl.
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