I am taking three of my daughters to Las Vegas
and the Grand Canyon April 1st. No kidding!
I’ll start the Blog again in a week. Yes, I’ll be
observing all I can nature-wise.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wolf Howls
Algonquin Wolf Howl by Earl Plato
I tried to set some goals for my nature writing each year.
One year my goal was to return to Algonquin Park for the August wolf howls. Wolf howls? Do you know what I mean? Thursday nights in August some of the park rangers arrange for a drive to a lake where packs of wolves will howl away the night. I called the park and a ranger said to get there early lke shortly after seven. We arrived at 6:15 p.m. First row ready to go. We had paid $6 for the privilege. There was ample room for 600 cars in the parking lots. Countless cars arrived. Darkness eventually came. Workers with flashlights began ushering the lot across the way. Hey, we were here first. Hundreds of cars headed out to the highway. I had been mislead! Not so. The first 300 drove past the site and turned around and came back, We simply headed down the road and ended at the site. We were the first car! Great! In a hout or so we heard the first howls that sounded so clearly. For over an hour we were serenaded by the Algonquin wolves. We were told that a group of rangers the previous week had ascertained where the pack would be for a Thursday. I wondered about rainy nights. Would there still be a wolf howl? Worth.the effort.
I tried to set some goals for my nature writing each year.
One year my goal was to return to Algonquin Park for the August wolf howls. Wolf howls? Do you know what I mean? Thursday nights in August some of the park rangers arrange for a drive to a lake where packs of wolves will howl away the night. I called the park and a ranger said to get there early lke shortly after seven. We arrived at 6:15 p.m. First row ready to go. We had paid $6 for the privilege. There was ample room for 600 cars in the parking lots. Countless cars arrived. Darkness eventually came. Workers with flashlights began ushering the lot across the way. Hey, we were here first. Hundreds of cars headed out to the highway. I had been mislead! Not so. The first 300 drove past the site and turned around and came back, We simply headed down the road and ended at the site. We were the first car! Great! In a hout or so we heard the first howls that sounded so clearly. For over an hour we were serenaded by the Algonquin wolves. We were told that a group of rangers the previous week had ascertained where the pack would be for a Thursday. I wondered about rainy nights. Would there still be a wolf howl? Worth.the effort.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Break Time
Take a Break Earl Plato
Winter break? Elaine and I followed the Kells to Pennsylvania mid-March for a few days. Great! I will share what we saw there later.
Every year, however, many of us take a little time to visit the Green houses of the Niagara Parks Commission. On this early morning drive from Fort Erie down the parkway we arrived early. One car in the lot. We spent some time in the Park shop until we meandered into the greenhouses. My folks never went on an extended vacation as far as I remember. However, we would come to this place and other winter stops such as the Greenhouses in South Park, Buffalo. I remember those trips well.
No birds to greet you back then. Now we have several tropical songbirds giving forth melodies at Niagara. I took some good snaps. Very enjoyable. The colours of the flowers and the luxuriant growth buoyed our spirits. Want to get rid of some of the mid-winter blahs? Stop in at the Park greenhouses now. It’s free admission for now.
Want even a more tropical setting? You know where, the Butterfly Conservancy. My niece and her family from Hamilton enjoyed this mid-winter break seeing the beautiful and exotic butterflies. It’s another opportunity to escape the winter doldrums. We go every year and it’s our time now. See you there.
***
I have received calls about the Canadas recently. Hey, Earl how come we see large flocks of Canada geese heading south this time of year? In little Ridgeway various flocks of Canada geese pass over head honking their way to Lake Erie and food. No frozen Lake Erie this year. These “bottom up” feeders are after the wild celery and other aquatic plants along the lake Erie shore. Why go further South?
Paul Kerlinger of Bird’s World magazine gives some enlightenment to the changing times for birds. He says, “ Though it seems that birds return to nesting sites on almost the same day each spring, some species ..., are arriving earlier and earlier. The reason for this change is almost certainly related to global warming.”
For years now we have done the “duck drive” along the Niagara Park Way to Niagara-on-the-Lake. We stop along the way to identify ducks, swans, gulls and other birds. My reward was to see the Old Squaw ducks and hear their unique mating calls. These beautiful birds are one of my favourites. No show this year. Did I miss them? Each month, December, January and now February we travelled the way to the mouth of the Niagara. No Old Squaw. Did these upper Arctic birds travel this far south as they usually do? Thermal warming the cause?
***
Bob Chambers and I headed for the Niagata Parkway in late February for a little duck watching on an overcast day. The usual mergansers and mallards along the way to Dufferin islands. I had been here twice in tjhe last month with wife, Elaine, in search of the wood ducks. There was “the lady” who feeds the ducks. We parked and watched. Just mallards, I thought. Then Bob said, “Look on the bridge.” There leading the way was a male wood duck! What a colourful bird. Many mallards and some more wood ducks came up the hill to feed on the corn and grain.
We drove on around the park and on the north side there were Canadas and mallards along side the road. We stopped and surveyed the active scene. Again Bob with his good eyesight spoke, “Earl, that’s an Old Squaw across the way.” Yes, there was this beautiful Arctic duck that some people call “Long Tail” gliding on the serene surface. No doubt about it. No need to go to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see one of my favourite ducks again this year. Thanks Bob.
Winter break? Elaine and I followed the Kells to Pennsylvania mid-March for a few days. Great! I will share what we saw there later.
Every year, however, many of us take a little time to visit the Green houses of the Niagara Parks Commission. On this early morning drive from Fort Erie down the parkway we arrived early. One car in the lot. We spent some time in the Park shop until we meandered into the greenhouses. My folks never went on an extended vacation as far as I remember. However, we would come to this place and other winter stops such as the Greenhouses in South Park, Buffalo. I remember those trips well.
No birds to greet you back then. Now we have several tropical songbirds giving forth melodies at Niagara. I took some good snaps. Very enjoyable. The colours of the flowers and the luxuriant growth buoyed our spirits. Want to get rid of some of the mid-winter blahs? Stop in at the Park greenhouses now. It’s free admission for now.
Want even a more tropical setting? You know where, the Butterfly Conservancy. My niece and her family from Hamilton enjoyed this mid-winter break seeing the beautiful and exotic butterflies. It’s another opportunity to escape the winter doldrums. We go every year and it’s our time now. See you there.
***
I have received calls about the Canadas recently. Hey, Earl how come we see large flocks of Canada geese heading south this time of year? In little Ridgeway various flocks of Canada geese pass over head honking their way to Lake Erie and food. No frozen Lake Erie this year. These “bottom up” feeders are after the wild celery and other aquatic plants along the lake Erie shore. Why go further South?
Paul Kerlinger of Bird’s World magazine gives some enlightenment to the changing times for birds. He says, “ Though it seems that birds return to nesting sites on almost the same day each spring, some species ..., are arriving earlier and earlier. The reason for this change is almost certainly related to global warming.”
For years now we have done the “duck drive” along the Niagara Park Way to Niagara-on-the-Lake. We stop along the way to identify ducks, swans, gulls and other birds. My reward was to see the Old Squaw ducks and hear their unique mating calls. These beautiful birds are one of my favourites. No show this year. Did I miss them? Each month, December, January and now February we travelled the way to the mouth of the Niagara. No Old Squaw. Did these upper Arctic birds travel this far south as they usually do? Thermal warming the cause?
***
Bob Chambers and I headed for the Niagata Parkway in late February for a little duck watching on an overcast day. The usual mergansers and mallards along the way to Dufferin islands. I had been here twice in tjhe last month with wife, Elaine, in search of the wood ducks. There was “the lady” who feeds the ducks. We parked and watched. Just mallards, I thought. Then Bob said, “Look on the bridge.” There leading the way was a male wood duck! What a colourful bird. Many mallards and some more wood ducks came up the hill to feed on the corn and grain.
We drove on around the park and on the north side there were Canadas and mallards along side the road. We stopped and surveyed the active scene. Again Bob with his good eyesight spoke, “Earl, that’s an Old Squaw across the way.” Yes, there was this beautiful Arctic duck that some people call “Long Tail” gliding on the serene surface. No doubt about it. No need to go to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see one of my favourite ducks again this year. Thanks Bob.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
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.!”
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Leanna's Message
It’s the 25th of March, 2008 in cold Fort Erie. Well below
our average Spring temperatures. Cousin Leanna and her husband arrived home from sunny Dominican Republic. They then decided to head to the southern U.S.A. and let winter bypass them. Leanna lives near Winnipeg, Manitoba and that is really cold country. Leanna e-mailed me today and here is part of her message. “ In Nebraska on our way home we saw huge flocks of Sand hill cranes. Maybe 1,000 or more in each flock. What a sight! We took a full day to go bird watching as we were so intrigued with them. We very rarely see one and then only from a distance. We also saw large flocks of snow geese and Canada geese. The sky was black with them. The flocks were made up of 50% Snows and 50% Canadas. When they arose in flight into the air you could see this black and white pattern against the blue sky. We see the occasional snow goose here (in Winnipeg) but never in such large flocks.” Note: This is the migration season - flocks heading north.
Leanna ends with, “ The highlight of the trip was seeing mountain Blue bird in Colorado.”
our average Spring temperatures. Cousin Leanna and her husband arrived home from sunny Dominican Republic. They then decided to head to the southern U.S.A. and let winter bypass them. Leanna lives near Winnipeg, Manitoba and that is really cold country. Leanna e-mailed me today and here is part of her message. “ In Nebraska on our way home we saw huge flocks of Sand hill cranes. Maybe 1,000 or more in each flock. What a sight! We took a full day to go bird watching as we were so intrigued with them. We very rarely see one and then only from a distance. We also saw large flocks of snow geese and Canada geese. The sky was black with them. The flocks were made up of 50% Snows and 50% Canadas. When they arose in flight into the air you could see this black and white pattern against the blue sky. We see the occasional snow goose here (in Winnipeg) but never in such large flocks.” Note: This is the migration season - flocks heading north.
Leanna ends with, “ The highlight of the trip was seeing mountain Blue bird in Colorado.”
Remember, Eh!
Gone but not forgotten A Repeat in 2008 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.
Fish Time
NN3126 Earl Plato
Responses to my recent article on earth worms drew this response. “Earl. What do you know about fly fishing?” “Not very much,”- I said. I have observed spectacular fly castings at Toronto and Buffalo Sportsmen Shows. I watched at Chew Magna Lake in Somerset, England as many fly fishermen showed their fly casting skills. Impressive? Yes. I have even perused Isaac Walton’s 1653 book, The Compleat Angler. Still I was limited in my knowledge. Then my income tax consultant Bob Allen, a retired Fort Erie elementary school principal and an old friend, provided me with an excellent personal write up about fly fishing, Bob even provided photos of his excursion to Slovakia in Europe. Have you ever fly fished? Here are excerpts about Bob’s adventure. Bob’s fly fishing guide would be Jan Bartka, the Champion Fly Fisherman of Slovokia also known for his accomplishments as a World Champion Fly Fisherman. What a way to learn this skill! “I slid into the wool pants first as the water was known to be cold and then into the waders. Jan hooked the net onto my back and handed me a pole. He said, “Practise.” We headed to a shallower part of the river to do just that. The first attempts I used a dry Caddis fly. When Jan was reasonably satisfied with the fact that most often my fly found the right part of the water we headed down stream to get more serious.”
Writer’s note: Bob and Jan were fishing on the cold, fast flowing waters of the Vah river in Slovakia.
Jan Bartka would position Bob in a certain area. He wanted Bob to cast upstream and let the dry fish float down and across the current. They were not getting any results with the dry flies so Jan decided to switch to wet flies or nymphs. He tied two on the leader. The first was a “Wooly Bugger” placed about a foot above a tiny green bead head followed by a light sinker on the end of the leader. This weighted fly line approach was new to Bob. Jan came over to him and led him in the approach of flipping the fly combination in a loop over his left shoulder. Then a hit followed by a trout on the line with a short exciting struggle. Bob exclaimed, :Lost it!” A lesson was learned to keep the tip of the rod high. Eventually the two moved to deeper water where Jan showed his expertise in quickly covering each area and hitting Brown Trout. The fun of fly fishing overcame Bob’s weariness of attempting to stay upright in the swift current. Yes, he did catch a fish - a Grayling. Bob said there were more hits on the wet flies but trout are so subtle in striking. Only experienced fly fishermen like Jan can recognize this and set the hook carefully without pulling it out. All the fish that day that they caught were released. Bob Allen ended with, “… a great day on the Vah River in the company of a champion fly fisherman. His exclamation - PRICELESS!”
Responses to my recent article on earth worms drew this response. “Earl. What do you know about fly fishing?” “Not very much,”- I said. I have observed spectacular fly castings at Toronto and Buffalo Sportsmen Shows. I watched at Chew Magna Lake in Somerset, England as many fly fishermen showed their fly casting skills. Impressive? Yes. I have even perused Isaac Walton’s 1653 book, The Compleat Angler. Still I was limited in my knowledge. Then my income tax consultant Bob Allen, a retired Fort Erie elementary school principal and an old friend, provided me with an excellent personal write up about fly fishing, Bob even provided photos of his excursion to Slovakia in Europe. Have you ever fly fished? Here are excerpts about Bob’s adventure. Bob’s fly fishing guide would be Jan Bartka, the Champion Fly Fisherman of Slovokia also known for his accomplishments as a World Champion Fly Fisherman. What a way to learn this skill! “I slid into the wool pants first as the water was known to be cold and then into the waders. Jan hooked the net onto my back and handed me a pole. He said, “Practise.” We headed to a shallower part of the river to do just that. The first attempts I used a dry Caddis fly. When Jan was reasonably satisfied with the fact that most often my fly found the right part of the water we headed down stream to get more serious.”
Writer’s note: Bob and Jan were fishing on the cold, fast flowing waters of the Vah river in Slovakia.
Jan Bartka would position Bob in a certain area. He wanted Bob to cast upstream and let the dry fish float down and across the current. They were not getting any results with the dry flies so Jan decided to switch to wet flies or nymphs. He tied two on the leader. The first was a “Wooly Bugger” placed about a foot above a tiny green bead head followed by a light sinker on the end of the leader. This weighted fly line approach was new to Bob. Jan came over to him and led him in the approach of flipping the fly combination in a loop over his left shoulder. Then a hit followed by a trout on the line with a short exciting struggle. Bob exclaimed, :Lost it!” A lesson was learned to keep the tip of the rod high. Eventually the two moved to deeper water where Jan showed his expertise in quickly covering each area and hitting Brown Trout. The fun of fly fishing overcame Bob’s weariness of attempting to stay upright in the swift current. Yes, he did catch a fish - a Grayling. Bob said there were more hits on the wet flies but trout are so subtle in striking. Only experienced fly fishermen like Jan can recognize this and set the hook carefully without pulling it out. All the fish that day that they caught were released. Bob Allen ended with, “… a great day on the Vah River in the company of a champion fly fisherman. His exclamation - PRICELESS!”
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Caves
Wookey Hole by Earl Plato
Here on a mid-March evening I came across an article about the late Fort Erie naturalist Bert Miller and cave exploring. Bert was a fearless explorer and loved caves. He would take a friend along on a Saturday ramble. No Wookey Hole this cave. This day it was to Cave Springs on the Niagara Escarpment. “See that small opening there,” he would say. Tying the end of a hug ball of twine securely to his belt he told his friend he following. “This is a new opening for me. Every so often I’ll give tug on the twine just to let you know I’m alright.” Now Bert was over six feet but physically fit. He squeezed into the opening with a sturdy flashlight. Minutes passed and then the friend felt a tug. Five minutes more and another tug. Fine, the friend thought. Time passed. The friend looked at his watch. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
The friend pulled on the twine. No resistance. A minute later he had retrieved Bert’s lifeline. What to do he thought, Bert’s car was down the way at the base of the escarpment. Panic stricken he went to the cave opening and yelled, “BERT!” e. A reply came. “Hey, you almost broke my eardrums!” A smiling Bert Miller emerged from the cave opening. “Sorry about untying the twine. I had come to the end of the line but there ahead the cave opened up and I could stand up. Amazing place! Cool like a refrigerator. I’ll return with my camera.”
You had to know Bert who lived into his nineties. Always curious always exploring. A real cave man, eh.
***
Wookey Hole is found in eastern England on the edge of the Mendip Hills near Bristol. Wife, Elaine. and her cousins drove us to Wookey Hole caves. I was a little sceptical. I didn’t think that England had many caves as North America. I had been to Howe Caverns N.Y., famed Luray Caverns of Virginia and many more even Bonnchere Caverns in Ontario. So what would we see here? Elaine’s English cousins seemed proud of this unusual cave. This cave was hunted! A witch inhabited Wookey’s Hole. That’s what our guide said. In 1694 the witch of Wookey Hole was well established. Records of the day stated, “ the old Witch herself and even her dog was mentioned.” It became a legend. This day was rainy and cool day in August. Not a very nice day. There were nine chambers in all. The ninth was opened in 1975.
A strange place as noises were heard and reverberated.
In 1914 archaeologist Balch uncovered human remains in the cave. Stone altars some feel were sacrificial had been found at Wookey. Here may be the origin of the legend of the Witch of Wookey Hole. The Hole is located in wildly beautiful surroundings along with an ever gushing giant spring. A memorable day.
Here on a mid-March evening I came across an article about the late Fort Erie naturalist Bert Miller and cave exploring. Bert was a fearless explorer and loved caves. He would take a friend along on a Saturday ramble. No Wookey Hole this cave. This day it was to Cave Springs on the Niagara Escarpment. “See that small opening there,” he would say. Tying the end of a hug ball of twine securely to his belt he told his friend he following. “This is a new opening for me. Every so often I’ll give tug on the twine just to let you know I’m alright.” Now Bert was over six feet but physically fit. He squeezed into the opening with a sturdy flashlight. Minutes passed and then the friend felt a tug. Five minutes more and another tug. Fine, the friend thought. Time passed. The friend looked at his watch. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
The friend pulled on the twine. No resistance. A minute later he had retrieved Bert’s lifeline. What to do he thought, Bert’s car was down the way at the base of the escarpment. Panic stricken he went to the cave opening and yelled, “BERT!” e. A reply came. “Hey, you almost broke my eardrums!” A smiling Bert Miller emerged from the cave opening. “Sorry about untying the twine. I had come to the end of the line but there ahead the cave opened up and I could stand up. Amazing place! Cool like a refrigerator. I’ll return with my camera.”
You had to know Bert who lived into his nineties. Always curious always exploring. A real cave man, eh.
***
Wookey Hole is found in eastern England on the edge of the Mendip Hills near Bristol. Wife, Elaine. and her cousins drove us to Wookey Hole caves. I was a little sceptical. I didn’t think that England had many caves as North America. I had been to Howe Caverns N.Y., famed Luray Caverns of Virginia and many more even Bonnchere Caverns in Ontario. So what would we see here? Elaine’s English cousins seemed proud of this unusual cave. This cave was hunted! A witch inhabited Wookey’s Hole. That’s what our guide said. In 1694 the witch of Wookey Hole was well established. Records of the day stated, “ the old Witch herself and even her dog was mentioned.” It became a legend. This day was rainy and cool day in August. Not a very nice day. There were nine chambers in all. The ninth was opened in 1975.
A strange place as noises were heard and reverberated.
In 1914 archaeologist Balch uncovered human remains in the cave. Stone altars some feel were sacrificial had been found at Wookey. Here may be the origin of the legend of the Witch of Wookey Hole. The Hole is located in wildly beautiful surroundings along with an ever gushing giant spring. A memorable day.
What’s in a name Earl Plato
I pulled over to the side of #3 Highway just east of Cherry Hill Golf Course. I just wanted a sample of a roadside weed and I did. I now had in my possession the bright yellow petalled common Saint-John’s-wort plant.
Naturalized from Europe this perennial wild flower has extended its range as far north as Newfoundland and British Columbia and as far south as the limits of United States.
No “Purple plague” this plant. No “Yellow plague” even for this plant with its bright golden petals. Historically in those English wastelands where it thrived among the early Saxons it was an ancient and important herb. It was employed for centuries for curing wounds. One of its common English names is “touch-and-heal.” We read that during mediaeval times it was gathered and hung on doors and windows to ward off evil spirits. Elaine didn’t appreciate me for bringing another weed home even with a name Saint John. Into the garbage can it went after my examination. Its name comes from an old belief in England that it begins to bloom on June 24, the day of St. John Divine. To this day herbalists promote the capabilities of this plant although there is not scientific evidence to support all its claims.
I pulled over to the side of #3 Highway just east of Cherry Hill Golf Course. I just wanted a sample of a roadside weed and I did. I now had in my possession the bright yellow petalled common Saint-John’s-wort plant.
Naturalized from Europe this perennial wild flower has extended its range as far north as Newfoundland and British Columbia and as far south as the limits of United States.
No “Purple plague” this plant. No “Yellow plague” even for this plant with its bright golden petals. Historically in those English wastelands where it thrived among the early Saxons it was an ancient and important herb. It was employed for centuries for curing wounds. One of its common English names is “touch-and-heal.” We read that during mediaeval times it was gathered and hung on doors and windows to ward off evil spirits. Elaine didn’t appreciate me for bringing another weed home even with a name Saint John. Into the garbage can it went after my examination. Its name comes from an old belief in England that it begins to bloom on June 24, the day of St. John Divine. To this day herbalists promote the capabilities of this plant although there is not scientific evidence to support all its claims.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
REMEMBER BRUCE
Remember Bruce Earl Plato
I missed my chance. At the last Bert Miller Nature Club Meeting on June 16th Bruce Kerschner, noted Western New York Old Growth Tree scientist, asked if I wanted to go with a team into the Niagara Glen. “Measuring the heights of some of those old giants - the Tulip trees.” I respect Bruce for he reminds me of the late Bert Miller. Bruce and Bert would go where “no man trod.” If you have been in the Glen with scientists, men and women who are looking for unusual species, you know that you have to be part “mountain goat.” I have trod there among the moss covered megaliths over the years with Bert Miller and Ernie Giles and believe me it was not easy. Sorry Bruce, but this old guy’s knees couldn’t handle your rigorous ramblings. My loss, but the Review in the Saturday, June 28th edition captured what energetic Bruce Kerschner was about. I wonder if Allison Langley, Review staff writer, accompanied Bruce. All power to you, Allison, if you did.
This following part of the article is about another Tulip tree but it was here in Greater Fort Erie. I quote Bert Miller’s own words in 1958 as he told us, “ It’s the largest tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) in Ontario and I believe that it is the oldest.” Dr. Sherwood Fox of the University of Western Ontario, who Bert knew at that time, estimated it to be about 400 years old as he compared it to other tulip trees whose rings he had counted. Bruce Kerschner with his modern boring device would have confirmed the age estimate.
Bert, my father Perc, and I measured the Rose Hill Old Growth giant tree. Bert took a roll of twine and we stretched it around its greatest width. Sixteen feet seven inches! Its diameter was over five feet. What a tree! I still have a photo of Bert standing in front of this enormous Tulip tree circa 1950. Our prize tree was a young sapling when the Neutral Indians (Attiwandarons) controlled the Niagara Fronrtier in the mid-16th century! If only we could capture what our giant Tulip tree had seen over the centuries.
Lumbermen in the early 1970’s culled the Graham Woods at Rose Hill. Not far away south of the Dominion Road stood the giant tree. Bert Miller came to our place and sadly told my father, “Perc, they cut down the Tulip tree.” He was quite distraught as I recall for Bert loved trees.
We need trees in our ever growing air polluted environment. We need to preserve Old Growth Trees where ever possible. They have a story to tell.
I missed my chance. At the last Bert Miller Nature Club Meeting on June 16th Bruce Kerschner, noted Western New York Old Growth Tree scientist, asked if I wanted to go with a team into the Niagara Glen. “Measuring the heights of some of those old giants - the Tulip trees.” I respect Bruce for he reminds me of the late Bert Miller. Bruce and Bert would go where “no man trod.” If you have been in the Glen with scientists, men and women who are looking for unusual species, you know that you have to be part “mountain goat.” I have trod there among the moss covered megaliths over the years with Bert Miller and Ernie Giles and believe me it was not easy. Sorry Bruce, but this old guy’s knees couldn’t handle your rigorous ramblings. My loss, but the Review in the Saturday, June 28th edition captured what energetic Bruce Kerschner was about. I wonder if Allison Langley, Review staff writer, accompanied Bruce. All power to you, Allison, if you did.
This following part of the article is about another Tulip tree but it was here in Greater Fort Erie. I quote Bert Miller’s own words in 1958 as he told us, “ It’s the largest tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) in Ontario and I believe that it is the oldest.” Dr. Sherwood Fox of the University of Western Ontario, who Bert knew at that time, estimated it to be about 400 years old as he compared it to other tulip trees whose rings he had counted. Bruce Kerschner with his modern boring device would have confirmed the age estimate.
Bert, my father Perc, and I measured the Rose Hill Old Growth giant tree. Bert took a roll of twine and we stretched it around its greatest width. Sixteen feet seven inches! Its diameter was over five feet. What a tree! I still have a photo of Bert standing in front of this enormous Tulip tree circa 1950. Our prize tree was a young sapling when the Neutral Indians (Attiwandarons) controlled the Niagara Fronrtier in the mid-16th century! If only we could capture what our giant Tulip tree had seen over the centuries.
Lumbermen in the early 1970’s culled the Graham Woods at Rose Hill. Not far away south of the Dominion Road stood the giant tree. Bert Miller came to our place and sadly told my father, “Perc, they cut down the Tulip tree.” He was quite distraught as I recall for Bert loved trees.
We need trees in our ever growing air polluted environment. We need to preserve Old Growth Trees where ever possible. They have a story to tell.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Green Dragon
The Green Dragon Earl Plato
“Remember now they Creator in the days of thy youth” The Bible gives much instruction for leading a worthwhile life. The memories of my father and his friend, Bert Miller, well up in my memory as I recall those many days when we rambled Lincoln and Welland counties.
Some memories of your youth are not as clear as others. This one fits into the “fuzzy” recollection.
One Saturday ramble was close to Bert’s home in the north end of Fort Erie. Father, Perc, and I had examined Bert’s skills of grafting at his Highland home. Bert said to my father let’s go to the springs. We parked on Thompson Road and entered the thick, thorny underbrush and headed eastwards. We found a spring bubbling up with the malodorous smell of sulphur, A hundred feet further in from the bend of the creek we found a clear, flowing spring of fresh, cool water. It was so clear you good look far down into the opening. That was many decades ago. Guess what? Thanks to Rob Eberly we found that same bubbling spring and something more.
I had written recently about two Marcy Woods plants, Skunk cabbage and Duckweed. Here deep in the woods next to the bubbling spring was a rare plant. Rob Eberly had found it and I want to share a little about the Green dragon plant.
It is usually a solitary greenish plant a relative of our Jack-in-the-pulpit. Unlike the “Jack” the Green dragon has a small hood. As we looked at it we noticed that the spadix protruded several inches below the hood. This is what is called the “dragon’s tongue.” This solitary plant was about two feet high. We returned in the fall and all that was left of the tall plant were orange, red and green berries. No, I didn’t take any.
Writer’s Note: As with the Jack-in-the-pulpit, the tuberous taproot of this plant can burn the mouth severely if ingested uncooked. I still recall the cries of Jim who had bitten into the tuber of a “Jack” many years ago. Jim had been warned by our scoutmaster. Some of us learn the hard way, eh.
***
April 3rd, 2002 in Marcy Woods. Neil Reichelt, nature photographer, and I walked the Lower Trail of these beloved woods. Cool, too cool. At the entrance we listened for the sounds of frogs. Not a sound! We walked in and stopped while Neil took a shot of the two towering Norway spruces. This is where we saw a Southern flying squirrel glide from the top of one tree to the other. Neil took shots all along the way. We will use them for some articles.We approached Marcy Pond and stopped and listened. No sounds of frogs at all. What gives? Were we too late? Just a little duckweed had started growing on the north edge of the pond. Birds? The caw of a crow and the very high trill of a Winter wren - that was it. We stopped at the cabin. Several trees had fallen along the Lower trail and cut up so you could walk. However, two trees that had fallen on the Upper Trail were still laying across the pathway. We descended the steps.
Marcy Woods is in a static state now but wait. To you who love nature, Marcy Woods will break out in colorful flowers and heart warming songs in just a little while. Believe me.
“Remember now they Creator in the days of thy youth” The Bible gives much instruction for leading a worthwhile life. The memories of my father and his friend, Bert Miller, well up in my memory as I recall those many days when we rambled Lincoln and Welland counties.
Some memories of your youth are not as clear as others. This one fits into the “fuzzy” recollection.
One Saturday ramble was close to Bert’s home in the north end of Fort Erie. Father, Perc, and I had examined Bert’s skills of grafting at his Highland home. Bert said to my father let’s go to the springs. We parked on Thompson Road and entered the thick, thorny underbrush and headed eastwards. We found a spring bubbling up with the malodorous smell of sulphur, A hundred feet further in from the bend of the creek we found a clear, flowing spring of fresh, cool water. It was so clear you good look far down into the opening. That was many decades ago. Guess what? Thanks to Rob Eberly we found that same bubbling spring and something more.
I had written recently about two Marcy Woods plants, Skunk cabbage and Duckweed. Here deep in the woods next to the bubbling spring was a rare plant. Rob Eberly had found it and I want to share a little about the Green dragon plant.
It is usually a solitary greenish plant a relative of our Jack-in-the-pulpit. Unlike the “Jack” the Green dragon has a small hood. As we looked at it we noticed that the spadix protruded several inches below the hood. This is what is called the “dragon’s tongue.” This solitary plant was about two feet high. We returned in the fall and all that was left of the tall plant were orange, red and green berries. No, I didn’t take any.
Writer’s Note: As with the Jack-in-the-pulpit, the tuberous taproot of this plant can burn the mouth severely if ingested uncooked. I still recall the cries of Jim who had bitten into the tuber of a “Jack” many years ago. Jim had been warned by our scoutmaster. Some of us learn the hard way, eh.
***
April 3rd, 2002 in Marcy Woods. Neil Reichelt, nature photographer, and I walked the Lower Trail of these beloved woods. Cool, too cool. At the entrance we listened for the sounds of frogs. Not a sound! We walked in and stopped while Neil took a shot of the two towering Norway spruces. This is where we saw a Southern flying squirrel glide from the top of one tree to the other. Neil took shots all along the way. We will use them for some articles.We approached Marcy Pond and stopped and listened. No sounds of frogs at all. What gives? Were we too late? Just a little duckweed had started growing on the north edge of the pond. Birds? The caw of a crow and the very high trill of a Winter wren - that was it. We stopped at the cabin. Several trees had fallen along the Lower trail and cut up so you could walk. However, two trees that had fallen on the Upper Trail were still laying across the pathway. We descended the steps.
Marcy Woods is in a static state now but wait. To you who love nature, Marcy Woods will break out in colorful flowers and heart warming songs in just a little while. Believe me.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I Wonder
Wings of Paradise a repeat Earl Plato
So I am a loner at times. At the Wings of Paradise Butterfly Conservatory I preceded my wife and friends and wandered into the two collection rooms all alone and got lost. Lost in thought that is. In museum settings I like to ramble at my own speed and level of thought.
The strange looking insects and marvellous butterflies made me think. Did these insects with their unusual structure and brilliant colour patterns just happen?
Every so often I contemplate who we are and where we came from. Many friends give me a simple answer. “Plato, we’ve just evolved. That’s it.”
Do you know about the basis of evolution? Where did life, human life, come from if not from God, the Creator? Charles Darwin in 1859 gave us an idea that God was not needed to explain the diversity of life on earth. Life could spring up from non-living sludge seemed to be the way. Ancient Greek philosophers likewise had preached “spontaneous generation.” Not this Plato. One I am not Greek or a philosopher. Two - I know I am not a scientist but I prefer to believe “life comes from life.” Three. I believe in a God Creator, Father of the universe. That faith gives me a reason to believe in a Saviour who cares about us. Sludge doesn’t.
The more I observe nature the more convinced I become of pre-existing intelligence. The late naturalist Bert Miller once said to us youths. “Lads, look at this masterpiece.” There under the magnyfying glass were the delicate patterns of unique snowflakes. He added, “No two alike. Amazing!” Bert believed in the Genesis concept that man is created in the image of God. The concepts of Good and Evil for us human beings didn’t just evolve from primordial sludge, did they?
Visit our Butterfly Conservatories in Niagara Falls or Cambridge and be amazed.
***
What’s in a name? Scientific names for plants and animals often have strange derivations. Some years past while walking in the Fall on the Lower Trail of Marcy Woods with my cousin, the late Bill Plato, we heard that unmistakeable drumming sounds of a Ruffed grouse. Off to our left in the then dried up wetlands was the sound of a male Ruffed grouse looking for a mate. With this sound he defies his rivals and advertises for any available females. Picture this scenario from a . “
So I am a loner at times. At the Wings of Paradise Butterfly Conservatory I preceded my wife and friends and wandered into the two collection rooms all alone and got lost. Lost in thought that is. In museum settings I like to ramble at my own speed and level of thought.
The strange looking insects and marvellous butterflies made me think. Did these insects with their unusual structure and brilliant colour patterns just happen?
Every so often I contemplate who we are and where we came from. Many friends give me a simple answer. “Plato, we’ve just evolved. That’s it.”
Do you know about the basis of evolution? Where did life, human life, come from if not from God, the Creator? Charles Darwin in 1859 gave us an idea that God was not needed to explain the diversity of life on earth. Life could spring up from non-living sludge seemed to be the way. Ancient Greek philosophers likewise had preached “spontaneous generation.” Not this Plato. One I am not Greek or a philosopher. Two - I know I am not a scientist but I prefer to believe “life comes from life.” Three. I believe in a God Creator, Father of the universe. That faith gives me a reason to believe in a Saviour who cares about us. Sludge doesn’t.
The more I observe nature the more convinced I become of pre-existing intelligence. The late naturalist Bert Miller once said to us youths. “Lads, look at this masterpiece.” There under the magnyfying glass were the delicate patterns of unique snowflakes. He added, “No two alike. Amazing!” Bert believed in the Genesis concept that man is created in the image of God. The concepts of Good and Evil for us human beings didn’t just evolve from primordial sludge, did they?
Visit our Butterfly Conservatories in Niagara Falls or Cambridge and be amazed.
***
What’s in a name? Scientific names for plants and animals often have strange derivations. Some years past while walking in the Fall on the Lower Trail of Marcy Woods with my cousin, the late Bill Plato, we heard that unmistakeable drumming sounds of a Ruffed grouse. Off to our left in the then dried up wetlands was the sound of a male Ruffed grouse looking for a mate. With this sound he defies his rivals and advertises for any available females. Picture this scenario from a . “
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Take a Morning Walk
Take A Walk Earl Plato
At Bruce Beach a few years back just south of Kincardine on Lake Huron’s shore I would walk each morning down the lane to the road and a quarter of a mile to the news box. During those vacation mornings I observed something different each walk. However, one thing was a constant. I saw a cottontail more than once feeding on the neighbour’s succulent greens in his garden. One morning I stopped and watched the rabbit stop then go as it approached the garden patch. He would nibble first on a low lying bush bud, on a leaf, and then on a dandelion. Finally she would hop to the garden and settle down to feed on the vegetable smorgasbord.
Along this narrow lane I was quite close to our rabbit friend. One morning she reacted to my presence and without showing undue alarm moved toward the woods ahead of us. I quickened my pace. She watched me then disappeared into the cedar/pine woods.
Cedar waxwings, chickadees, blue jays greeted me. The spring flora had flowered, however, may apples still abounded. Weeds, strange weeds to me, grew along the edge of the rural road. I took some samples and later identified them. Morning walks were good to me.
Again the next morning at Bruce Beach the little cottontail greeted me for the fifth day about the same time. Are we establishing a relationship?
Enjoy nature while you can.
***
Bert Miller, noted area naturalist, told my father and me to hear famed American outdoorsman, Ellsworth Jaeger, at Fort Erie High School auditorium. He and Bert were personal friends. Ellsworth had written yet another nature book, Wildwood Wisdom. It is from that book I have selected edible plants and trees you can find in Marcy Woods.
At Bruce Beach a few years back just south of Kincardine on Lake Huron’s shore I would walk each morning down the lane to the road and a quarter of a mile to the news box. During those vacation mornings I observed something different each walk. However, one thing was a constant. I saw a cottontail more than once feeding on the neighbour’s succulent greens in his garden. One morning I stopped and watched the rabbit stop then go as it approached the garden patch. He would nibble first on a low lying bush bud, on a leaf, and then on a dandelion. Finally she would hop to the garden and settle down to feed on the vegetable smorgasbord.
Along this narrow lane I was quite close to our rabbit friend. One morning she reacted to my presence and without showing undue alarm moved toward the woods ahead of us. I quickened my pace. She watched me then disappeared into the cedar/pine woods.
Cedar waxwings, chickadees, blue jays greeted me. The spring flora had flowered, however, may apples still abounded. Weeds, strange weeds to me, grew along the edge of the rural road. I took some samples and later identified them. Morning walks were good to me.
Again the next morning at Bruce Beach the little cottontail greeted me for the fifth day about the same time. Are we establishing a relationship?
Enjoy nature while you can.
***
Bert Miller, noted area naturalist, told my father and me to hear famed American outdoorsman, Ellsworth Jaeger, at Fort Erie High School auditorium. He and Bert were personal friends. Ellsworth had written yet another nature book, Wildwood Wisdom. It is from that book I have selected edible plants and trees you can find in Marcy Woods.
Winter Break
nn1002 Earl Plato
Winter break? Elaine and I followed the Kells to Pennsylvania mid-March for a few days. Great! I will share what we saw there later.
Every year, however, many of us take a little time to visit the Green houses of the Niagara Parks Commission. On this early morning drive from Fort Erie down the parkway we arrived early. One car in the lot. We spent some time in the Park shop until we meandered into the greenhouses. My folks never went on an extended vacation as far as I remember. However, we would come to this place and other winter stops such as the Greenhouses in South Park, Buffalo. I remember those trips well.
No birds to greet you back then. Now we have several tropical songbirds giving forth melodies at Niagara. I took some good snaps. Very enjoyable. The colours of the flowers and the luxuriant growth buoyed our spirits. Want to get rid of some of the mid-winter blahs? Stop in at the Park greenhouses now. It’s free admission for now.
Want even a more tropical setting? You know where, the Butterfly Conservancy. My niece and her family from Hamilton enjoyed this mid-winter break seeing the beautiful and exotic butterflies. It’s another opportunity to escape the winter doldrums. We go every year and it’s our time now. See you there.
***
I have received calls about the Canadas recently. Hey, Earl how come we see large flocks of Canada geese heading south this time of year? In little Ridgeway various flocks of Canada geese pass over head honking their way to Lake Erie and food. No frozen Lake Erie this year. These “bottom up” feeders are after the wild celery and other aquatic plants along the lake Erie shore. Why go further South?
Paul Kerlinger of Bird’s World magazine gives some enlightenment to the changing times for birds. He says, “ Though it seems that birds return to nesting sites on almost the same day each spring, some species ..., are arriving earlier and earlier. The reason for this change is almost certainly related to global warming.”
For years now we have done the “duck drive” along the Niagara Park Way to Niagara-on-the-Lake. We stop along the way to identify ducks, swans, gulls and other birds. My reward was to see the Old Squaw ducks and hear their unique mating calls. These beautiful birds are one of my favourites. No show this year. Did I miss them? Each month, December, January and now February we travelled the way to the mouth of the Niagara. No Old Squaw. Did these upper Arctic birds travel this far south as they usually do? Thermal warming the cause? Call me at 905-894-2417 if you have any answers.
***
Bob Chambers and I headed for the Niagata Parkway in late February for a little duck watching on an overcast day. The usual mergansers and mallards along the way to Dufferin islands. I had been here twice in tjhe last month with wife, Elaine, in search of the wood ducks. There was “the lady” who feeds the ducks. We parked and watched. Just mallards, I thought. Then Bob said, “Look on the bridge.” There leading the way was a male wood duck! What a colourful bird. Many mallards and some more wood ducks came up the hill to feed on the corn and grain.
We drove on around the park and on the north side there were Canadas and mallards along side the road. We stopped and surveyed the active scene. Again Bob with his good eyesight spoke, “Earl, that’s an Old Squaw across the way.” Yes, there was this beautiful Arctic duck that some people call “Long Tail” gliding on the serene surface. No doubt about it. No need to go to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see one of my favourite ducks again this year. Thanks Bob.
Winter break? Elaine and I followed the Kells to Pennsylvania mid-March for a few days. Great! I will share what we saw there later.
Every year, however, many of us take a little time to visit the Green houses of the Niagara Parks Commission. On this early morning drive from Fort Erie down the parkway we arrived early. One car in the lot. We spent some time in the Park shop until we meandered into the greenhouses. My folks never went on an extended vacation as far as I remember. However, we would come to this place and other winter stops such as the Greenhouses in South Park, Buffalo. I remember those trips well.
No birds to greet you back then. Now we have several tropical songbirds giving forth melodies at Niagara. I took some good snaps. Very enjoyable. The colours of the flowers and the luxuriant growth buoyed our spirits. Want to get rid of some of the mid-winter blahs? Stop in at the Park greenhouses now. It’s free admission for now.
Want even a more tropical setting? You know where, the Butterfly Conservancy. My niece and her family from Hamilton enjoyed this mid-winter break seeing the beautiful and exotic butterflies. It’s another opportunity to escape the winter doldrums. We go every year and it’s our time now. See you there.
***
I have received calls about the Canadas recently. Hey, Earl how come we see large flocks of Canada geese heading south this time of year? In little Ridgeway various flocks of Canada geese pass over head honking their way to Lake Erie and food. No frozen Lake Erie this year. These “bottom up” feeders are after the wild celery and other aquatic plants along the lake Erie shore. Why go further South?
Paul Kerlinger of Bird’s World magazine gives some enlightenment to the changing times for birds. He says, “ Though it seems that birds return to nesting sites on almost the same day each spring, some species ..., are arriving earlier and earlier. The reason for this change is almost certainly related to global warming.”
For years now we have done the “duck drive” along the Niagara Park Way to Niagara-on-the-Lake. We stop along the way to identify ducks, swans, gulls and other birds. My reward was to see the Old Squaw ducks and hear their unique mating calls. These beautiful birds are one of my favourites. No show this year. Did I miss them? Each month, December, January and now February we travelled the way to the mouth of the Niagara. No Old Squaw. Did these upper Arctic birds travel this far south as they usually do? Thermal warming the cause? Call me at 905-894-2417 if you have any answers.
***
Bob Chambers and I headed for the Niagata Parkway in late February for a little duck watching on an overcast day. The usual mergansers and mallards along the way to Dufferin islands. I had been here twice in tjhe last month with wife, Elaine, in search of the wood ducks. There was “the lady” who feeds the ducks. We parked and watched. Just mallards, I thought. Then Bob said, “Look on the bridge.” There leading the way was a male wood duck! What a colourful bird. Many mallards and some more wood ducks came up the hill to feed on the corn and grain.
We drove on around the park and on the north side there were Canadas and mallards along side the road. We stopped and surveyed the active scene. Again Bob with his good eyesight spoke, “Earl, that’s an Old Squaw across the way.” Yes, there was this beautiful Arctic duck that some people call “Long Tail” gliding on the serene surface. No doubt about it. No need to go to Niagara-on-the-Lake to see one of my favourite ducks again this year. Thanks Bob.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Robins
Robins 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 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 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.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Tiger Dunlop
nn4103B Earl Plato
Dr. “Tiger” Dunlop was the name of the British army surgeon who was at the Siege of Fort Erie in 1814! The good Scottish doctor decided to stay in Upper Canada after the war, The city of Galt and Goderich were founded by a group of men that included “Tiger.” The beautiful town of Goderich was laid out by Dr. Dunlop. Go to the Town Centre and admire his foresight.
The Dr. Tiger Dunlop Trail sign said that it lead to a grove of oaks and the burial site of the good doctor. Ken and Norma, a little ahead of us, climbed to another level and announced, “Here’s the burial site of Dr. Tiger Dunlop!” Nestled in a grove of Black oak trees overlooking the Maitland River Valley was the final resting place of Dr. Tiger Dunlop. That was his wish. No easy place to reach for the general public. The train trestle was too far to reach this day. Return? Yes. I read that this is the farthest northern arm of Carolinian Canada. I was surprised that it said that the oaks found here were included in the Carolinian assessment. What kind of oak? Black oak. I researched it.
What goes up must come down. Try as they did to find a easier way down Bud and Ken resigned us to the walk back down those many steep steps. Knees, sore knees, but help was present. Bud allowed me to lean on his shoulder and we made it back down. It’s good to have a friend to lean on, eh. A good hike. Seniors keep rambling in nature in Ontario.
***
Roy Healey of Niagara Falls came to our October 20th Bert Miller Nature Club Meeting. Roy was not alone. In a covered aerated pail was a snake. Not just any snake. Roy had on display before he released it later none other than a Northern water snake. It was a dark colour with splotches on its thick body. Non-venomous but an aggressive snake and not easily handled. Release place? perhaps Chippawa Creek or the Welland river. Thanks Roy for your snake lesson.
Dr. “Tiger” Dunlop was the name of the British army surgeon who was at the Siege of Fort Erie in 1814! The good Scottish doctor decided to stay in Upper Canada after the war, The city of Galt and Goderich were founded by a group of men that included “Tiger.” The beautiful town of Goderich was laid out by Dr. Dunlop. Go to the Town Centre and admire his foresight.
The Dr. Tiger Dunlop Trail sign said that it lead to a grove of oaks and the burial site of the good doctor. Ken and Norma, a little ahead of us, climbed to another level and announced, “Here’s the burial site of Dr. Tiger Dunlop!” Nestled in a grove of Black oak trees overlooking the Maitland River Valley was the final resting place of Dr. Tiger Dunlop. That was his wish. No easy place to reach for the general public. The train trestle was too far to reach this day. Return? Yes. I read that this is the farthest northern arm of Carolinian Canada. I was surprised that it said that the oaks found here were included in the Carolinian assessment. What kind of oak? Black oak. I researched it.
What goes up must come down. Try as they did to find a easier way down Bud and Ken resigned us to the walk back down those many steep steps. Knees, sore knees, but help was present. Bud allowed me to lean on his shoulder and we made it back down. It’s good to have a friend to lean on, eh. A good hike. Seniors keep rambling in nature in Ontario.
***
Roy Healey of Niagara Falls came to our October 20th Bert Miller Nature Club Meeting. Roy was not alone. In a covered aerated pail was a snake. Not just any snake. Roy had on display before he released it later none other than a Northern water snake. It was a dark colour with splotches on its thick body. Non-venomous but an aggressive snake and not easily handled. Release place? perhaps Chippawa Creek or the Welland river. Thanks Roy for your snake lesson.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Last Fall & Mushrooms
Last Fall Earl Plato
When my birthday comes around in late October I again realize that nothing creeps up silently on anything in the woods these Fall days. The carpet of fallen leaves is daily becoming more crisp and dry. It provides an early warning sign for wildlife. Nature writer Ed Teale made it clear for me. “No fox can stalk its prey noiselessly now. Even a chipmunk broadcasts its every move as it scrambles over the leaf covered woodland floor. ... so loud is our own progress that we seem as giants ‘scuffing’ through the leaves. The uproar we produce drowns out our voices. We have to stand still when we want to hear each other speak.” Get the picture? Don’t get me wrong. I love Fall.
Game birds, pheasants, grouse et al, have a special stake in the dryness
of leaf cover in the autumn woods. Remember when the leaves are wet from rain they are soggy and silent underfoot. That’s when pheasants and grouse are more likely to be taken unawares. For us non-hunters it’s a good time during rainy weather to get a glimpse of those usually hidden birds and forest animals in Niagara.
***
Ross Bearss, noted tree and plant man of Ridgeway, called a few years ago. “Earl, there’s some strange looking mushrooms down in the pine woods. They have reddish -orange caps.” We walked Ross’s trails and there nestled in among Scotch pines was a large growth of these attractive mushrooms. We counted about twenty in a circle of ten feet or so. I knew what they were, Fly agaric. Their scientific name is Amanita muscaria. Amanita? That’s right. When you see that name you know that you have a deadly poisonous mushroom even if you ingest a small part. The drawing I made has a skull and crossbones for obvious reasons.
Most fungi (mushrooms and toadstools) are harmless if eaten. To those of us who like steak and mushrooms will testify that those field white capped mushrooms with the pink gills are delicious. Boletes and chanterelles are especially pleasing to mushroom connoisseurs. Just remember that eating wild mushrooms is not to be taken lightly.
When my birthday comes around in late October I again realize that nothing creeps up silently on anything in the woods these Fall days. The carpet of fallen leaves is daily becoming more crisp and dry. It provides an early warning sign for wildlife. Nature writer Ed Teale made it clear for me. “No fox can stalk its prey noiselessly now. Even a chipmunk broadcasts its every move as it scrambles over the leaf covered woodland floor. ... so loud is our own progress that we seem as giants ‘scuffing’ through the leaves. The uproar we produce drowns out our voices. We have to stand still when we want to hear each other speak.” Get the picture? Don’t get me wrong. I love Fall.
Game birds, pheasants, grouse et al, have a special stake in the dryness
of leaf cover in the autumn woods. Remember when the leaves are wet from rain they are soggy and silent underfoot. That’s when pheasants and grouse are more likely to be taken unawares. For us non-hunters it’s a good time during rainy weather to get a glimpse of those usually hidden birds and forest animals in Niagara.
***
Ross Bearss, noted tree and plant man of Ridgeway, called a few years ago. “Earl, there’s some strange looking mushrooms down in the pine woods. They have reddish -orange caps.” We walked Ross’s trails and there nestled in among Scotch pines was a large growth of these attractive mushrooms. We counted about twenty in a circle of ten feet or so. I knew what they were, Fly agaric. Their scientific name is Amanita muscaria. Amanita? That’s right. When you see that name you know that you have a deadly poisonous mushroom even if you ingest a small part. The drawing I made has a skull and crossbones for obvious reasons.
Most fungi (mushrooms and toadstools) are harmless if eaten. To those of us who like steak and mushrooms will testify that those field white capped mushrooms with the pink gills are delicious. Boletes and chanterelles are especially pleasing to mushroom connoisseurs. Just remember that eating wild mushrooms is not to be taken lightly.
Speedy!
Peregrine falcon Earl Plato
It flew straight up at an amazing speed. I squinted my eyes in the bright sunlight, Then it dove and in a few seconds it passed from sight. Incredible. I had the image of a falcon. Rob Eberly called out, “It’s a peregrine!”
We were at Mud Lake on the outskirts of Port Colborne. Both of us had seen the peregrine falcons at Niagara Falls. With the “falcon” man Bob Chambers we had seen those wonderful birds up close. We had observed them soar upwards through the mists of the Horseshoe Falls and pluck a bird from the sky and return to their perch and feed their hatchlings.
I have had calls about the sighting of peregrine falcons this winter from people in the city. Bob Chambers has checked out a few of these calls from residents in the Falls and they turned out to be an Accipiter - a Sharp-shinned hawk who is also a great flier.
The usual method of the peregrine in catching its prey is to rise in spirals until it is above its victim and then to drop upon it. Those of you who watched “Amelia” in action at the Falls would no doubt agree with the peregrine’s method of securing food.
The late nature lover, Alvin R.Benner, of Sherkston had one of the most extensive volume on birds - Birds of America. I have that volume now in which I read William L. Finley’s article on the peregrine. Back then in 1936 the common name for this falcon was Duck hawk. Yes, it’s favourite food were ducks hence the name.
Finley wrote: “... considering the peculiar advantages the Duck Hawk (Peregrine falcon) possesses in the struggle for existence it is remarkable how comparatively rare it is.” That’s right. How excited were the people of Falcon Watch at Niagara Falls. Viewers from all over the world came to see these unique birds. I thought about this bird. Among birds it has no superior. I believe Bob Chambers would agree with that statement. Despite where our falcons nested on the ledge near the Falls it normally nests in an inaccessible location preventing animal depredation. How come there aren’t more of these birds?
***
Sunday morning call just before going to church. It was naturalist Bob Chambers. “ Earl, we saw a pair of Bald eagles at the north end of Navy Island. One was larger than the other. That means a female and a male.” Female eagles are always larger than the male.
Bob did not see them from the Ussher Creek Crossing but at the entrance of the boat channel of Chippawa Creek. From here he could see them better as he looked south-east toward the island. There they were. Hopefully these majestic birds will make use of the Ministry nesting platform on the north end of the island. Keep looking Bob. The eagles are back.
***
Bill Kieffer stopped in to tell me about the ospreys he saw in Florida. He stayed at Fort Meyers Beach and made the trip across the causeway to Sanibel Island. He said he went to “Ding” park. Of course, I know where he went - to Ding Darling Nature preserve. This is the home of alligators and birds. Several tall posts have been set up along the road. Each had a platform on it for nesting ospreys. Bill saw lots of them. This beautiful fish eating bird is smaller than the bald eagle.
A day later Al Valvo called. He too had just returned from Florida’s west coast. Al is a golfer and said, “Earl, I saw all kinds of ospreys.” Again I say, they are beautiful graceful fliers and adept fishermen, See any locally? I head northeast to the Kawartha Lakes to see mine.
It flew straight up at an amazing speed. I squinted my eyes in the bright sunlight, Then it dove and in a few seconds it passed from sight. Incredible. I had the image of a falcon. Rob Eberly called out, “It’s a peregrine!”
We were at Mud Lake on the outskirts of Port Colborne. Both of us had seen the peregrine falcons at Niagara Falls. With the “falcon” man Bob Chambers we had seen those wonderful birds up close. We had observed them soar upwards through the mists of the Horseshoe Falls and pluck a bird from the sky and return to their perch and feed their hatchlings.
I have had calls about the sighting of peregrine falcons this winter from people in the city. Bob Chambers has checked out a few of these calls from residents in the Falls and they turned out to be an Accipiter - a Sharp-shinned hawk who is also a great flier.
The usual method of the peregrine in catching its prey is to rise in spirals until it is above its victim and then to drop upon it. Those of you who watched “Amelia” in action at the Falls would no doubt agree with the peregrine’s method of securing food.
The late nature lover, Alvin R.Benner, of Sherkston had one of the most extensive volume on birds - Birds of America. I have that volume now in which I read William L. Finley’s article on the peregrine. Back then in 1936 the common name for this falcon was Duck hawk. Yes, it’s favourite food were ducks hence the name.
Finley wrote: “... considering the peculiar advantages the Duck Hawk (Peregrine falcon) possesses in the struggle for existence it is remarkable how comparatively rare it is.” That’s right. How excited were the people of Falcon Watch at Niagara Falls. Viewers from all over the world came to see these unique birds. I thought about this bird. Among birds it has no superior. I believe Bob Chambers would agree with that statement. Despite where our falcons nested on the ledge near the Falls it normally nests in an inaccessible location preventing animal depredation. How come there aren’t more of these birds?
***
Sunday morning call just before going to church. It was naturalist Bob Chambers. “ Earl, we saw a pair of Bald eagles at the north end of Navy Island. One was larger than the other. That means a female and a male.” Female eagles are always larger than the male.
Bob did not see them from the Ussher Creek Crossing but at the entrance of the boat channel of Chippawa Creek. From here he could see them better as he looked south-east toward the island. There they were. Hopefully these majestic birds will make use of the Ministry nesting platform on the north end of the island. Keep looking Bob. The eagles are back.
***
Bill Kieffer stopped in to tell me about the ospreys he saw in Florida. He stayed at Fort Meyers Beach and made the trip across the causeway to Sanibel Island. He said he went to “Ding” park. Of course, I know where he went - to Ding Darling Nature preserve. This is the home of alligators and birds. Several tall posts have been set up along the road. Each had a platform on it for nesting ospreys. Bill saw lots of them. This beautiful fish eating bird is smaller than the bald eagle.
A day later Al Valvo called. He too had just returned from Florida’s west coast. Al is a golfer and said, “Earl, I saw all kinds of ospreys.” Again I say, they are beautiful graceful fliers and adept fishermen, See any locally? I head northeast to the Kawartha Lakes to see mine.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Hawk Mountain PA
Hawk Mountain by Earl Plato
Yes, I have been to Hawk Mountain, PA years ago in a three day two night adventure in an autumnal downpour. This fall 2008 we will return again. Lesson learned. As retirees Elaine and I will be in contact with the Sanctuary and choose three good mid week fall days. We were told to avoid weekends during the migration of the raptors. Thousands upon thousands of hawk watchers descend on this unique place. Hawk Edge. She wanted to stop hunters from killing hawks by the thousands as they passed over the mountain on their way south. October or November for us Canadians to visit? Like eagles? In 1998 a record 1,387
Bald eagles were sighted And listen to this. At that same time 137 Golden eagles passed through. I have seen immature and mature Golden eagles in captivity never in the wild. That’s our quest this fall.
Yes, I have been to Hawk Mountain, PA years ago in a three day two night adventure in an autumnal downpour. This fall 2008 we will return again. Lesson learned. As retirees Elaine and I will be in contact with the Sanctuary and choose three good mid week fall days. We were told to avoid weekends during the migration of the raptors. Thousands upon thousands of hawk watchers descend on this unique place. Hawk Edge. She wanted to stop hunters from killing hawks by the thousands as they passed over the mountain on their way south. October or November for us Canadians to visit? Like eagles? In 1998 a record 1,387
Bald eagles were sighted And listen to this. At that same time 137 Golden eagles passed through. I have seen immature and mature Golden eagles in captivity never in the wild. That’s our quest this fall.
Red Tails
Red-tail Earl Plato
Drove the Q.E.W. (Queen Elizabeth Way) from Ft. Erie to Niagara
Falls today, March 11, 2008. Saw two large Red-tailed hawks on the way. E have seen as many as six perched in trees on the north side of the Q.E.W. The photo below shows a rabbit in the clutches of the raptor. This is the largest and most common of our local hawks. However, I thought meadow mice and voles were its main prey. I have seen this raptor as it gave its shrill “Krrrr-rr” as it plummeted down to grasp a fat vole. Some readers have called me to say that they attack poultry. Not that I know. Rabbits and hares the photo seems to prove so. Make a comment on the blog and share your view. Today we saw two large stocky hawks with whitish breasts with rust-coloured tails. We will see more as spring approaches.
Drove the Q.E.W. (Queen Elizabeth Way) from Ft. Erie to Niagara
Falls today, March 11, 2008. Saw two large Red-tailed hawks on the way. E have seen as many as six perched in trees on the north side of the Q.E.W. The photo below shows a rabbit in the clutches of the raptor. This is the largest and most common of our local hawks. However, I thought meadow mice and voles were its main prey. I have seen this raptor as it gave its shrill “Krrrr-rr” as it plummeted down to grasp a fat vole. Some readers have called me to say that they attack poultry. Not that I know. Rabbits and hares the photo seems to prove so. Make a comment on the blog and share your view. Today we saw two large stocky hawks with whitish breasts with rust-coloured tails. We will see more as spring approaches.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Winter Break Time Marvh 2008
Winter Walk Inside Earl Plato
We love the Niagara Parkway drive any time of the year.
Are you kidding, Plato? This is March, 2008 and record snowfall locally. BUT! Just past Dufferin Islands and just before Niagara Falls is the Niagara Parks greenhouses. No charge and plenty of parking. That’s right - it’s a lousy winter day. Just a few brave couples like us. Controlled environment? Yes. A real respite from a winter storm scenario. Amarlyises galore. That’s one below.
Tropical birds fly around us twittering as they go. Easter is yet to come so no beds of lilies just beautiful spring flowers.
We love the Niagara Parkway drive any time of the year.
Are you kidding, Plato? This is March, 2008 and record snowfall locally. BUT! Just past Dufferin Islands and just before Niagara Falls is the Niagara Parks greenhouses. No charge and plenty of parking. That’s right - it’s a lousy winter day. Just a few brave couples like us. Controlled environment? Yes. A real respite from a winter storm scenario. Amarlyises galore. That’s one below.
Tropical birds fly around us twittering as they go. Easter is yet to come so no beds of lilies just beautiful spring flowers.
A Hummer
Little Whiz of Bird Land 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.
Okay to Look Back>
Another Reflection Okay? Earl Plato
As I looked back in my records a clipping caught my eye. The caption read “Pollution, Pests, Poachers Threaten Shenandoah.” Peter Whoriskey of the Washington Post wrote in the Buffalo News recently an expansive piece on one of my favourite American National Parks, Shenandoah. I have explored the park from the north and from the south along the scenic Skyline Drive. That’s 197,000 acres that makes up the Blue Ridge Park. We have spent days exploring this now threatened park. That was in the mid-nineties when the exchange rate on the dollar wasn’t so bad.
Our first extensive trip had us enter the park at the north end at Front Royal, Virginia where we ascended the heights. Shenandoah Valley was to our right and the cities and towns of the northern part of the state of Virginia lay far below to our left. For we Niagarans used to more level territory this place of elevation was breathtaking.
The three ‘P’s’ - First-Pollution from the Ohio Valley and its industries has affected the Park. Acid rain has damaged the maples. We read visibility is roughly one-fourth of what it should be if the air was free of pollutants. Actually that’s an improvement since we were there. Then there was a constant haze in the valleys below. The only answer is to reduce industrial pollution. Christi Gordon, Shenandoah’s Park Resources Manager says despite the gradual improvement, “We still have a long way to go.”
Secondly - Pests. Usually you thinks of mammals and insects. Not this time. “It is a silent green invasion.” This was news to me. A new invasive species, the “mile-a-minute” vine, which grows at the rate of 15 centimetres a day, was discovered in the Park last spring. With limited funds action still must be taken.
Thirdly - Poachers. Arriving late at night back to Skyline Lodge we counted seventeen Virginia white-tail deer. So. “Poaching today isn’t just a guy hunting deer for his family,” said Doug Morris, Shenandoah Park Superintendent. There’s money involved and there is big time poaching. “We don’t have the personnel and funds to keep up with it.”
“Shenandoah,” I love that Indian name. With our dollar creeping back up who knows - another trip to Shenandoah National Park!
Are we actively protecting our local natural treasures such as Marcy’s Woods in Niagara? What about the three ‘P.’s’ here? Pollution? Yes. Pests? Yes. Poachers?
As I looked back in my records a clipping caught my eye. The caption read “Pollution, Pests, Poachers Threaten Shenandoah.” Peter Whoriskey of the Washington Post wrote in the Buffalo News recently an expansive piece on one of my favourite American National Parks, Shenandoah. I have explored the park from the north and from the south along the scenic Skyline Drive. That’s 197,000 acres that makes up the Blue Ridge Park. We have spent days exploring this now threatened park. That was in the mid-nineties when the exchange rate on the dollar wasn’t so bad.
Our first extensive trip had us enter the park at the north end at Front Royal, Virginia where we ascended the heights. Shenandoah Valley was to our right and the cities and towns of the northern part of the state of Virginia lay far below to our left. For we Niagarans used to more level territory this place of elevation was breathtaking.
The three ‘P’s’ - First-Pollution from the Ohio Valley and its industries has affected the Park. Acid rain has damaged the maples. We read visibility is roughly one-fourth of what it should be if the air was free of pollutants. Actually that’s an improvement since we were there. Then there was a constant haze in the valleys below. The only answer is to reduce industrial pollution. Christi Gordon, Shenandoah’s Park Resources Manager says despite the gradual improvement, “We still have a long way to go.”
Secondly - Pests. Usually you thinks of mammals and insects. Not this time. “It is a silent green invasion.” This was news to me. A new invasive species, the “mile-a-minute” vine, which grows at the rate of 15 centimetres a day, was discovered in the Park last spring. With limited funds action still must be taken.
Thirdly - Poachers. Arriving late at night back to Skyline Lodge we counted seventeen Virginia white-tail deer. So. “Poaching today isn’t just a guy hunting deer for his family,” said Doug Morris, Shenandoah Park Superintendent. There’s money involved and there is big time poaching. “We don’t have the personnel and funds to keep up with it.”
“Shenandoah,” I love that Indian name. With our dollar creeping back up who knows - another trip to Shenandoah National Park!
Are we actively protecting our local natural treasures such as Marcy’s Woods in Niagara? What about the three ‘P.’s’ here? Pollution? Yes. Pests? Yes. Poachers?
Past Years Eh
Past Years Earl Plato
Have you taken the Saturday trolley ride to Point Abino lighthouse last year? Worth the trip. On a foggy Friday the 13th of June Elaine and I took our Timmy’s and bird glasses for our usual drive to Bertie Boat Club at Point Abino and back. They were still here. In fact three of them. We watched as two of them flew past us. The third allowed us to car watch. We focused in on the Great White Egret, “Casmerodius albus” is the scientific name - we get the label white ftom ‘albus.’
Great White Egrets is what I have called them for years. Ann McCleod from Crystal Beach called recently and said, “Earl. there’s a White Heron in Abino Bay.” Ann had looked up in her bird book and like me she saw that the White Heron is only located in the southern tip of Florida and southwards in the Caribbean.
Check out the Great White Egret in the Peterson guide. Yes, they come this far north. Wait. In my Audubon guide page 406 we read also “known as the Great White Heron. Confusing? Our three guests in Abino Bay are Great White Egrets with bright orange beaks. Take a ride and check it out. Drive carefully and pull over if you can.
Have you taken the Saturday trolley ride to Point Abino lighthouse last year? Worth the trip. On a foggy Friday the 13th of June Elaine and I took our Timmy’s and bird glasses for our usual drive to Bertie Boat Club at Point Abino and back. They were still here. In fact three of them. We watched as two of them flew past us. The third allowed us to car watch. We focused in on the Great White Egret, “Casmerodius albus” is the scientific name - we get the label white ftom ‘albus.’
Great White Egrets is what I have called them for years. Ann McCleod from Crystal Beach called recently and said, “Earl. there’s a White Heron in Abino Bay.” Ann had looked up in her bird book and like me she saw that the White Heron is only located in the southern tip of Florida and southwards in the Caribbean.
Check out the Great White Egret in the Peterson guide. Yes, they come this far north. Wait. In my Audubon guide page 406 we read also “known as the Great White Heron. Confusing? Our three guests in Abino Bay are Great White Egrets with bright orange beaks. Take a ride and check it out. Drive carefully and pull over if you can.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Two Gulls at Fort Erie
I grew up with the Herring Gull in Lake Erie and the Niagara River. It is the common “Sea gull” inland and along the Atlantic coast. Look below. Some time I am not sure when the smaller Ring-billed gull took over. In 2008 in the Fort Erie area the Ring-bills reign. Its voice is a loud, raucous mewing cry like that of its larger brother the Herring. Experts tell us that Ring-bill has a higher pitched call. I associate the Herring with our garbage dumps. Am I right? Near the OLD Fort Erie you see large colonies of Ring-bills literally hundreds. I don‘t remember large colonies of Herring gulls. Both are marvellous fliers, eh..
Sharpshinned Hawk
Why not start a new hobby in 2008? Hawk watching. Our local hawks are back - Red-tails, Coopers, Sharp-shinned, Kestrel and even some rarer species.
Where to go? The rural areas of Niagara - the side roads and specific places you know. If you “hawk” from the confines of your car, be careful. It’s best if one drives and in the passenger seat the other uses the bird glasses. Watch for cars behind and if possible pull over on the shoulder. Don’t block traffic.
When I started “hawk” watching after my retirement I found a few places I liked to sight these fascinating raptors. South Koabel Road off Netherby Road is great for watching from your car. This is Red-tail country although we see the beautiful little Sparrow hawks (Kestrel) there quite often.
One place I return again and again to is the Stevensville Conservation Area. This is where I saw “mobbing” of a Great Horned owl by a murder of crows. Murder? Yes. For over an hour I watched the systematic bedeviling of that great raptor. It eventually flew eastwards pursued by the crows. This article is dedicated to the late naturalist writer, Ed Teale. In an insert in his log he tells us about the great flying hawk, the Sharp-shinned and his mobbing foes, the Blue Jays. If you know about this acrobatic raptor here is a portion of Teale’s account.
“A sharp-shinned hawk had been haunting the yard this morning trying to catch a chickadee. I saw this predator streaking in, speeding low across the yard toward the terrace apple tree.”
Writer’s Note: The sharp-shinned hawk is a raptor. It hunts other birds. It’s a great flyer. It is not a large hawk. Our most common hawk locally is the red-tailed hawk. It is a much larger hawk and can not maneuver like a sharp-shinned. A red-tail’s diet consists mainly of the meadow vole not other birds.
***
Take Mitchener Road west out of Ridgeway and just past the ‘s’ curve this side of Longmeadow Farm is a Red-tailed hawk’s nest on your left. Here it is the end of May and we see the mother’s head in the nest. Any young ones? We pull off the road and we view with the binoculars. I’ll return and set up my bird scope. Road birding is fun just be careful, eh.
Where to go? The rural areas of Niagara - the side roads and specific places you know. If you “hawk” from the confines of your car, be careful. It’s best if one drives and in the passenger seat the other uses the bird glasses. Watch for cars behind and if possible pull over on the shoulder. Don’t block traffic.
When I started “hawk” watching after my retirement I found a few places I liked to sight these fascinating raptors. South Koabel Road off Netherby Road is great for watching from your car. This is Red-tail country although we see the beautiful little Sparrow hawks (Kestrel) there quite often.
One place I return again and again to is the Stevensville Conservation Area. This is where I saw “mobbing” of a Great Horned owl by a murder of crows. Murder? Yes. For over an hour I watched the systematic bedeviling of that great raptor. It eventually flew eastwards pursued by the crows. This article is dedicated to the late naturalist writer, Ed Teale. In an insert in his log he tells us about the great flying hawk, the Sharp-shinned and his mobbing foes, the Blue Jays. If you know about this acrobatic raptor here is a portion of Teale’s account.
“A sharp-shinned hawk had been haunting the yard this morning trying to catch a chickadee. I saw this predator streaking in, speeding low across the yard toward the terrace apple tree.”
Writer’s Note: The sharp-shinned hawk is a raptor. It hunts other birds. It’s a great flyer. It is not a large hawk. Our most common hawk locally is the red-tailed hawk. It is a much larger hawk and can not maneuver like a sharp-shinned. A red-tail’s diet consists mainly of the meadow vole not other birds.
***
Take Mitchener Road west out of Ridgeway and just past the ‘s’ curve this side of Longmeadow Farm is a Red-tailed hawk’s nest on your left. Here it is the end of May and we see the mother’s head in the nest. Any young ones? We pull off the road and we view with the binoculars. I’ll return and set up my bird scope. Road birding is fun just be careful, eh.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Duck Time
‘Duck Lookin’ Earl Plato
We travel the Niagara Parkway quite often because it is a beautiful drive. This year we saw the colourful Harlequin male duck and his mate neqr Nicholl’s Marina in south Fort Erie. Actually we were looking for the Bald eagle. In winter ime Elaine and saw the majestic bird perched in a giant river willow near Black Creek. This late April day we headed north along the Parkway. It was an Bald eagle watch. As we approached the Black Creek bridge we saw it. A large bird was perched in a willow. Slow down! Then I recognized the bird - a Black-crowned night heron. Hey, this was mid-morning. As its name implies it is mainly nocturnal. Other ones I have seen in daylight on Miller’s Creek are in the reed beds or roosting in nearby trees. Its a good sized bird - medium sized compared to the Great blue. It has a rather short neck and of course a black crown.
Wait until dusk or night and listen. I had grandson, Luke O’Brien, describe the bird he had seen up north. Luke mimicked the bird’s call. I knew what it was - the Black-crowned night heron. I showed him a Peterson profile and played the bitd’s call. “That’s it, grandpa!”
Listen to the harsh, barking quawk! Approach their sites at nesting time and you will hear a great deal of croaking, barking and screaning calls. Unforgettable and they live locally.
I am patrolling this Spring the Welland River in Wainfleet at dusk. Will I hear the Black-crowned?
***
Saw a pair of Ospreys and their nest on Beaver Lake on this past Victoria weekend. Where? North of Napanee off Highway 41. I have observed the Osprey over the years throughout Ontario. While at Irwin Lodge, Stony Lake we saw the platform nests and the wonderful flight of these masked birds with their swept-backed wings like that of the Peregrine falcon. We watched as one zoomed down to the lake’s surface and clutch a fish with ease. You know the story. This expert bird is well adapted for capturing fish which makes up its total diet. Hence the nickname “Fish hawk.”
We travel the Niagara Parkway quite often because it is a beautiful drive. This year we saw the colourful Harlequin male duck and his mate neqr Nicholl’s Marina in south Fort Erie. Actually we were looking for the Bald eagle. In winter ime Elaine and saw the majestic bird perched in a giant river willow near Black Creek. This late April day we headed north along the Parkway. It was an Bald eagle watch. As we approached the Black Creek bridge we saw it. A large bird was perched in a willow. Slow down! Then I recognized the bird - a Black-crowned night heron. Hey, this was mid-morning. As its name implies it is mainly nocturnal. Other ones I have seen in daylight on Miller’s Creek are in the reed beds or roosting in nearby trees. Its a good sized bird - medium sized compared to the Great blue. It has a rather short neck and of course a black crown.
Wait until dusk or night and listen. I had grandson, Luke O’Brien, describe the bird he had seen up north. Luke mimicked the bird’s call. I knew what it was - the Black-crowned night heron. I showed him a Peterson profile and played the bitd’s call. “That’s it, grandpa!”
Listen to the harsh, barking quawk! Approach their sites at nesting time and you will hear a great deal of croaking, barking and screaning calls. Unforgettable and they live locally.
I am patrolling this Spring the Welland River in Wainfleet at dusk. Will I hear the Black-crowned?
***
Saw a pair of Ospreys and their nest on Beaver Lake on this past Victoria weekend. Where? North of Napanee off Highway 41. I have observed the Osprey over the years throughout Ontario. While at Irwin Lodge, Stony Lake we saw the platform nests and the wonderful flight of these masked birds with their swept-backed wings like that of the Peregrine falcon. We watched as one zoomed down to the lake’s surface and clutch a fish with ease. You know the story. This expert bird is well adapted for capturing fish which makes up its total diet. Hence the nickname “Fish hawk.”
Friday, March 7, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
The Story
Timeswhitedeer2 Earl Plato
Part Two: The interview with Les concerning the fate of the local white deer. “My reason, Earl, for calling you as I know when the deer was first killed. There were a lot of rumours out there about how it was killed and where it went. I personally don’t want any publicity. The day it was killed I received a phone call from a gentleman who lives near the quarries off Stonemill. He told me that the white deer was in the quarry and dead. I went over with a friend and we yanked it out from the quarry. We could see at that time that it had a hole and blood in its neck. Our first impression was that it had been shot and we were miffed.”
Writer’s note: Les made this strong statement, “I’m a hunter of deer and a lot of my friends hunt but we all have held to the thing, you don’t shoot the white deer.
The white deer was off limits no matter what. A lot of my friends have had it as close as fifteen yards under their stands but nobody had shot it which I give them credit.”
Len and his friend discover the truth. “We took the deer to my garage and a friend and I cleaned it out. We found it wasn’t shot. The tine mark from an antler was cleaned out. It was perfectly the size of a tine and went to a point. It was 21/2 inches deep and there was another in the back of its thigh. We figure that was the one that killed it for it hit the main artery in the back leg. There was a ball of congealed blood between the skin and the meat. He was dying one way or another. He had two other tine marks up his side and one on the other side. We realized he got the crap beat ot of him by two bucks. Remember this was late October and the rutting season. We felt better that he hadn’t been shot.
Writer’s note: Les had many curious visitors to his home. Finally he ended taking the carcass far out of town to a skilful taxidermist. Ontario Monster Whitetails, a deer hunter’s magazine, did a piece on our white deer. Les showed me the article. “This piece was done 2004 and 2005 on our piebald deer while he was still alive. My friend who took the photos for the magazine measured the white deer’s dropped rack from last year and it scored 165 inches, which is big. “
Les said that the guys who published the magazine took it on themselves to do some research on the deer. Using the Ontario record books and other records such as Boone and Crockett they basically said they found nothing that would exceed our white deer in size. The largest white deer in Ontario and possibly in Canada!
I asked Les the age of our famed white deer. He replied, “ I assume four to five years.” He showed me the deer’s lower jaw which he will submit to the Ministry and they wll gauge it for me 100%. Les showed me where the deer had lost some teeth in a fight where an attacking buck scored previously. Les said that the noted taxidermist, Richard Reaume of Tilbury, Ontario, concluded that our white deer was a fighter. Les appreciated Reaume’s great work who had won Canadian championships for his works. He told Les that our deer had survived many a fight - a most remarkable deer!
Part Two: The interview with Les concerning the fate of the local white deer. “My reason, Earl, for calling you as I know when the deer was first killed. There were a lot of rumours out there about how it was killed and where it went. I personally don’t want any publicity. The day it was killed I received a phone call from a gentleman who lives near the quarries off Stonemill. He told me that the white deer was in the quarry and dead. I went over with a friend and we yanked it out from the quarry. We could see at that time that it had a hole and blood in its neck. Our first impression was that it had been shot and we were miffed.”
Writer’s note: Les made this strong statement, “I’m a hunter of deer and a lot of my friends hunt but we all have held to the thing, you don’t shoot the white deer.
The white deer was off limits no matter what. A lot of my friends have had it as close as fifteen yards under their stands but nobody had shot it which I give them credit.”
Len and his friend discover the truth. “We took the deer to my garage and a friend and I cleaned it out. We found it wasn’t shot. The tine mark from an antler was cleaned out. It was perfectly the size of a tine and went to a point. It was 21/2 inches deep and there was another in the back of its thigh. We figure that was the one that killed it for it hit the main artery in the back leg. There was a ball of congealed blood between the skin and the meat. He was dying one way or another. He had two other tine marks up his side and one on the other side. We realized he got the crap beat ot of him by two bucks. Remember this was late October and the rutting season. We felt better that he hadn’t been shot.
Writer’s note: Les had many curious visitors to his home. Finally he ended taking the carcass far out of town to a skilful taxidermist. Ontario Monster Whitetails, a deer hunter’s magazine, did a piece on our white deer. Les showed me the article. “This piece was done 2004 and 2005 on our piebald deer while he was still alive. My friend who took the photos for the magazine measured the white deer’s dropped rack from last year and it scored 165 inches, which is big. “
Les said that the guys who published the magazine took it on themselves to do some research on the deer. Using the Ontario record books and other records such as Boone and Crockett they basically said they found nothing that would exceed our white deer in size. The largest white deer in Ontario and possibly in Canada!
I asked Les the age of our famed white deer. He replied, “ I assume four to five years.” He showed me the deer’s lower jaw which he will submit to the Ministry and they wll gauge it for me 100%. Les showed me where the deer had lost some teeth in a fight where an attacking buck scored previously. Les said that the noted taxidermist, Richard Reaume of Tilbury, Ontario, concluded that our white deer was a fighter. Les appreciated Reaume’s great work who had won Canadian championships for his works. He told Les that our deer had survived many a fight - a most remarkable deer!
The Almost White Deer
White deer Earl Plato
Questions! Questions! How many Fort Erieans have asked the question - What really happened to Fort Erie’s famous white deer? Now at the end of September , 2006 we learn the truth about its demise.
Writer’s note: I had seen photos of our deer over the past
years and had written about it for the Times. It was seen and photographed mainly in the Stonemill Road area east of Ridgeway. Various people on the Friendship Trail and on or near Dominion Road had sighted our white deer. White? Not quite. I received a call recently from, Les, an area man. He said, “Earl, do you want to know the true story about the white deer? I have it. We went to his house and there it was - beautifully mounted. Remember this is a Piebald deer not a true albino. Albinos have no pigment in their system hence they are all white including their hooves. The eyes are always pink. Our piebald has brown hooves, dark eyes - a brown patch between its antlers and a few brown spots on its sides. Our piebald buck is marvellously almost all white with a great rack. A wonderfully restored and mounted animal as the photo showed in the local paper.
Questions! Questions! How many Fort Erieans have asked the question - What really happened to Fort Erie’s famous white deer? Now at the end of September , 2006 we learn the truth about its demise.
Writer’s note: I had seen photos of our deer over the past
years and had written about it for the Times. It was seen and photographed mainly in the Stonemill Road area east of Ridgeway. Various people on the Friendship Trail and on or near Dominion Road had sighted our white deer. White? Not quite. I received a call recently from, Les, an area man. He said, “Earl, do you want to know the true story about the white deer? I have it. We went to his house and there it was - beautifully mounted. Remember this is a Piebald deer not a true albino. Albinos have no pigment in their system hence they are all white including their hooves. The eyes are always pink. Our piebald has brown hooves, dark eyes - a brown patch between its antlers and a few brown spots on its sides. Our piebald buck is marvellously almost all white with a great rack. A wonderfully restored and mounted animal as the photo showed in the local paper.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Winter
Enough Winter Already in 2008 Earl Plato
Winter began again with sunshine while I was looking over the meandering Welland River in north Wainfleet. Winter began again with a shining lacework of ice edging the river. Winter began again with wind. Standing on the old river road winter began again with the calling of a bluejay. As I walked westwards from there winter began again with the cawing of a crow and in the river bushes below came the whistling of a cardinal. I stopped. From my daughter’s and son-in-law’s home the beginning of winter came again with the sweet fragrance of cherry wood smoke from their fireplace. Pleasurable? Yes.
Ed Teale, nature writer, wrote, “As always at such a time (mentioned above), The time of quitting fall and entering winter again, I marvel at how swiftly the days have passed since June. How rapid the pace of our journey through that half of the year.” He seems to lament that now things will slow down in the coming winter months. Hey, Ed, you and I are growing older. Take heart for now it appears the time that stretches through the winter months will be long and slow. Old timers like us can slow down a bit, eh.
***
We were with Ernie Giles, former Niagara Peninsula naturalist. We were far back in Short Hills Provincial Park. It was a short few days but a welcome respite from the cold winter. We walked ascending the field southwards close to the edge of the park woods. A row of goldenrods still stood ramrod straight. A swirling gust of wind partially uncovered the wooly rosette of a mullein plant. Ernie shook the stem revealing the thick flannellike leaves. Have you ever felt the texture of a mullein leaf? Ernie doesn’t usually disturb nature but this time he wanted to share a secret. “Do you know what is inside this leaf as between a stack of woolen blankets?” Carefully he separated the mullein leaf and tiny forms of life appeared. Minute spiders, little beetles, and specks of springtails had found a snug winter retreat. There they would have been secure while ice and snow lock in our winter environment. Ernie closed the leaf as best he could. Sorry guys.
Winter began again with sunshine while I was looking over the meandering Welland River in north Wainfleet. Winter began again with a shining lacework of ice edging the river. Winter began again with wind. Standing on the old river road winter began again with the calling of a bluejay. As I walked westwards from there winter began again with the cawing of a crow and in the river bushes below came the whistling of a cardinal. I stopped. From my daughter’s and son-in-law’s home the beginning of winter came again with the sweet fragrance of cherry wood smoke from their fireplace. Pleasurable? Yes.
Ed Teale, nature writer, wrote, “As always at such a time (mentioned above), The time of quitting fall and entering winter again, I marvel at how swiftly the days have passed since June. How rapid the pace of our journey through that half of the year.” He seems to lament that now things will slow down in the coming winter months. Hey, Ed, you and I are growing older. Take heart for now it appears the time that stretches through the winter months will be long and slow. Old timers like us can slow down a bit, eh.
***
We were with Ernie Giles, former Niagara Peninsula naturalist. We were far back in Short Hills Provincial Park. It was a short few days but a welcome respite from the cold winter. We walked ascending the field southwards close to the edge of the park woods. A row of goldenrods still stood ramrod straight. A swirling gust of wind partially uncovered the wooly rosette of a mullein plant. Ernie shook the stem revealing the thick flannellike leaves. Have you ever felt the texture of a mullein leaf? Ernie doesn’t usually disturb nature but this time he wanted to share a secret. “Do you know what is inside this leaf as between a stack of woolen blankets?” Carefully he separated the mullein leaf and tiny forms of life appeared. Minute spiders, little beetles, and specks of springtails had found a snug winter retreat. There they would have been secure while ice and snow lock in our winter environment. Ernie closed the leaf as best he could. Sorry guys.
Fathers' Days
NN4106 Earl Plato
On this coming Father’s Day I thought about two men who had a lasting influence on my life. My father, Perc, stands out as a caring father. As a quarantined eight year old who had just survived crippling polio I started sketching. I tried to draw a horse but not very well. My father took my pencil and quickly sketched a horse. It was perfect in my young mind. I replicated that drawing many times until I thought that I could compare it favourably with his. I have been sketching in nature ever since. His friend, Bert Miller, encouraged me to make a bird book with sketches of what I saw. Bert became a father-figure to me in the years of my youth that followed. This article is about Bert Miller.
***
Albert (Bert) Weatherstone Miller was born in 1882 on the old homestead at Miller’s Creek on the Niagara River. We had erected in his memory a small granite stone and a plaque near that site. It’s still there. Bert was one of God’s athletes. He kept himself in shape. Day after day following retirement from Horton Steel he would venture out into the natural environment. In all kinds of inclement weather he would visit nature locations in the Niagara peninsula. My father and I were fortunate to go with him on many occasions. This I know - Bert was not a self-seeking man. He loved nothing more than to share many of his finds and knowledge of our natural world. Bert needed to have his body in top shape for many of his excursions were not easy. He would scale cliff walls and enter caves in quest of some rare plant. He ate healthful food much of it naturally grown. As a child I remember his nutty snacks. Even his inevitable cookies were wholesome. As far as I know he didn’t smoke or drink alcohol. He was like an athlete in training - lean and supple - a tall man. At age 86 he travelled with my Grade 8 class to Point Abino. He was full of enthusiasm. He was continually observing things around him. He still possessed great endurance as we walked the Abino sand hills. He was an amazing man! Bert died at age 91. Year after year when many of us were too tired or full of apathy Bert, God’s natural athlete, kept on. Be thankful for your fathers both biologically or by relational choice. Love them. Happy Father‘s Day. Do some good act in memory of them. Planting a good tree is one way.
On this coming Father’s Day I thought about two men who had a lasting influence on my life. My father, Perc, stands out as a caring father. As a quarantined eight year old who had just survived crippling polio I started sketching. I tried to draw a horse but not very well. My father took my pencil and quickly sketched a horse. It was perfect in my young mind. I replicated that drawing many times until I thought that I could compare it favourably with his. I have been sketching in nature ever since. His friend, Bert Miller, encouraged me to make a bird book with sketches of what I saw. Bert became a father-figure to me in the years of my youth that followed. This article is about Bert Miller.
***
Albert (Bert) Weatherstone Miller was born in 1882 on the old homestead at Miller’s Creek on the Niagara River. We had erected in his memory a small granite stone and a plaque near that site. It’s still there. Bert was one of God’s athletes. He kept himself in shape. Day after day following retirement from Horton Steel he would venture out into the natural environment. In all kinds of inclement weather he would visit nature locations in the Niagara peninsula. My father and I were fortunate to go with him on many occasions. This I know - Bert was not a self-seeking man. He loved nothing more than to share many of his finds and knowledge of our natural world. Bert needed to have his body in top shape for many of his excursions were not easy. He would scale cliff walls and enter caves in quest of some rare plant. He ate healthful food much of it naturally grown. As a child I remember his nutty snacks. Even his inevitable cookies were wholesome. As far as I know he didn’t smoke or drink alcohol. He was like an athlete in training - lean and supple - a tall man. At age 86 he travelled with my Grade 8 class to Point Abino. He was full of enthusiasm. He was continually observing things around him. He still possessed great endurance as we walked the Abino sand hills. He was an amazing man! Bert died at age 91. Year after year when many of us were too tired or full of apathy Bert, God’s natural athlete, kept on. Be thankful for your fathers both biologically or by relational choice. Love them. Happy Father‘s Day. Do some good act in memory of them. Planting a good tree is one way.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Ernest Thompson Seton Part2
Ernest Thompson Seton (Part Two) - They made fun of him at his new school in Toronto. It was such a big school that none of his brothers were in his class. “When I was four in England I was riding “horsey”on a high sofa. I fell on my head. I saw two two mothers and two clocks and two of everything!” My eyes became badly crossed and I had to squint. I was called “Squinty.” Despite his eyesight he still continued to love books. A favourite was his father’s Pictorial Book of Nature. He started sketching - flowers, birds and animals. Then he heard about Ross’s Birds of Canada. Ernest wanted a copy and saved his money until he had a dollar . He walked into the big book store and purchased his prized book. He was inspired to draw more. “At the age of 13 I built my own cabin in the Don Valley. It was my favourite place toget away. I did more art - mostly nature but also city buildings and people. All the time I wanted to be a naturalist. I talked with my mother about my anbitions. My father overheard and said, “NO! You will become an artist!” At Art school he won a gold medal at the Ontario School of Art and won a scholarship to study art in England. He went to England but his father gave him little help. He studied at the Royal Academy of Art but was very lonely and almost destitute. He learned more skills but after the scholarship was over he returned home as a 21 year old. He felt like a failure to his father who had kept a list of all the money and things he had given to Ernest. His father demanded to be paid back in full for his support. His mother welcomed him back and continued to believe in his dreams. Now back in Ontario he had no job. To him all wildlife was interesting - especially birds. “I will become a naturalist.” With his mother’s blessing he headed west to Manitoba. It was a happy time for Ernest. “I explored across the vast prairie - learning more and more. My poor health was over and for the next two years I was blessed with increasing strength. I had my books, my birds and animals, and my dreams.” Ernest was oficially appointed naturalist for the government of Manitoba. He drew more and more - sold sketches and drawings - did well. paid his father in full ion return visit to Toronto. He missed his mother very much but returned west to his job.
In defference to her he changed his surname to his mothers. Born Ernest Seton Thompson he now became ERNEST THOMPSON SETON. He was invited to New Mexico by the United States government to write four volumes - Life History of North American Animals. He was now writing short stories and novels about wildlife and was getting widespread fame. His most famous book, Wild Animals I Have Known, is still being reprinted in 2006.
In defference to her he changed his surname to his mothers. Born Ernest Seton Thompson he now became ERNEST THOMPSON SETON. He was invited to New Mexico by the United States government to write four volumes - Life History of North American Animals. He was now writing short stories and novels about wildlife and was getting widespread fame. His most famous book, Wild Animals I Have Known, is still being reprinted in 2006.
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Mystery of Migration
Bell12 Earl Plato’
Passage of Migrants is an hour long VCR tape on bird migrations.
It’s good. The intro to it reads as follows. “Shadows passing across the moon, a soft beating of unseen wings in the dark - ,,,a distant cries blown back by the wind... a line of geese flying high… these are some of the familiar fragments are part of the mystery of migration.” Cynthia of our Nature Club is working as a nurse in Arkansas. She sends nature clippings to me. This one caught my eye. It is entitled, Scientists closing in on migratory birds’ sense of direction. It was taken from the Chicago Tribune. I quote,
Twice each year migratory birds of the world make a journey that until recently, seemed like a miracle. Now evidence is trickling in to support an explanation no less miraculous . Birds may literally be able to see magnetic fields. In 1998 scientists discovered a protein called crypto chrome in the eyes of many animals. This protein reacts to light in a way that depends on the orientation of the surrounding magnetic field. One showed that robins exposed to yellow light only disoriented them and prevented them from getting a directional using the magnetic field. Makes sense, eh?
Birds are very good at picking up little differences in shades of light that move through their field of vision. Scientist Sculten said. “The magnetic field may act like a filter modifying what they see, like a cloud floating in the image.” Wait! Many researchers reject the light-based theory of magnetic perception! Staring in the late 1990’s researchers found concentrations of an iron mineral called magnetite in the snouts of rainbow trout and the beaks of homing pigeons. The magnetite aligns itself in magnetic fields and nerves link the magnetite-containing cells to the brain. Again - makes sense. The miracle of migration is being solved.
Passage of Migrants is an hour long VCR tape on bird migrations.
It’s good. The intro to it reads as follows. “Shadows passing across the moon, a soft beating of unseen wings in the dark - ,,,a distant cries blown back by the wind... a line of geese flying high… these are some of the familiar fragments are part of the mystery of migration.” Cynthia of our Nature Club is working as a nurse in Arkansas. She sends nature clippings to me. This one caught my eye. It is entitled, Scientists closing in on migratory birds’ sense of direction. It was taken from the Chicago Tribune. I quote,
Twice each year migratory birds of the world make a journey that until recently, seemed like a miracle. Now evidence is trickling in to support an explanation no less miraculous . Birds may literally be able to see magnetic fields. In 1998 scientists discovered a protein called crypto chrome in the eyes of many animals. This protein reacts to light in a way that depends on the orientation of the surrounding magnetic field. One showed that robins exposed to yellow light only disoriented them and prevented them from getting a directional using the magnetic field. Makes sense, eh?
Birds are very good at picking up little differences in shades of light that move through their field of vision. Scientist Sculten said. “The magnetic field may act like a filter modifying what they see, like a cloud floating in the image.” Wait! Many researchers reject the light-based theory of magnetic perception! Staring in the late 1990’s researchers found concentrations of an iron mineral called magnetite in the snouts of rainbow trout and the beaks of homing pigeons. The magnetite aligns itself in magnetic fields and nerves link the magnetite-containing cells to the brain. Again - makes sense. The miracle of migration is being solved.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Wasp Time
Nature Earl Plato
Ross Bears delivered his dead specimens in a plastic container. I had stood with Ross a few weeks earlier as he tried to capture some of the live wasp-like insects. Located at the base of an old apple tree on Ross’s parkland I watched as he tried in vain. No stinging resulted but Ridgeway’s horticulturist didn’t give up. I am looking at several dead specimens. They look differently from Paper wasps. Paper wasps are thin wasps that are black or dark brown with yellowish rings on their abdomen. Stokes Nature Guide says they are 3/8 to one inch long. No Paper wasps or Yellow jackets these specimens. What are they?
I measured them. Not quite twice the size of the Paper but 1 3/4 inch in length. What about the Hunting or Digging wasp? I think so.
I looked where its abdomen joined the thorax. Clue. Unlike the Paper wasp these specimens were joined together by a thin thread-like attachment. Another clue revealed by the magnifying glass was that Some of the six specimens had a comb-like digging configuration on the front legs. Hence the label “Digger.” Research told me that only the female Digger wasp has this peculiar structure. Conclusion Ross’s wasps were Digger wasps.
As one who has been stung by Yellow jackets many times avoid the females. They have a powerful sting and “the venom can cause intense pain.” How to tell female from male? That’s your problem. Do Digger wasps sting too? Ross Bearss and his dog say, “Yes!” These wasps help to control certain pest species. Respect wasps this fall. The cold may temporarily stupify them so be alert, eh.
***
Hummingbird Hotline: Carl King of Fort Erie called, Sharon at the local Ridgeway drugstore told me, and my own daughter, Diane, corrected me. “Plato, where did you get the hummingbird mix?” Diane uses a sugar-water mix and no colouring at all. I wrote about a different mix. Sorry. Carl read in Songbirds in Your Yard that using honey as a sweetness source is not good for the little birds. It ferments and can be a cause of disease. Sharon has the trumpet flower plant that serves a s a great natural food source. My apologies to hummingbird lovers. Where did I get that honey based food mix reference?
Ross Bears delivered his dead specimens in a plastic container. I had stood with Ross a few weeks earlier as he tried to capture some of the live wasp-like insects. Located at the base of an old apple tree on Ross’s parkland I watched as he tried in vain. No stinging resulted but Ridgeway’s horticulturist didn’t give up. I am looking at several dead specimens. They look differently from Paper wasps. Paper wasps are thin wasps that are black or dark brown with yellowish rings on their abdomen. Stokes Nature Guide says they are 3/8 to one inch long. No Paper wasps or Yellow jackets these specimens. What are they?
I measured them. Not quite twice the size of the Paper but 1 3/4 inch in length. What about the Hunting or Digging wasp? I think so.
I looked where its abdomen joined the thorax. Clue. Unlike the Paper wasp these specimens were joined together by a thin thread-like attachment. Another clue revealed by the magnifying glass was that Some of the six specimens had a comb-like digging configuration on the front legs. Hence the label “Digger.” Research told me that only the female Digger wasp has this peculiar structure. Conclusion Ross’s wasps were Digger wasps.
As one who has been stung by Yellow jackets many times avoid the females. They have a powerful sting and “the venom can cause intense pain.” How to tell female from male? That’s your problem. Do Digger wasps sting too? Ross Bearss and his dog say, “Yes!” These wasps help to control certain pest species. Respect wasps this fall. The cold may temporarily stupify them so be alert, eh.
***
Hummingbird Hotline: Carl King of Fort Erie called, Sharon at the local Ridgeway drugstore told me, and my own daughter, Diane, corrected me. “Plato, where did you get the hummingbird mix?” Diane uses a sugar-water mix and no colouring at all. I wrote about a different mix. Sorry. Carl read in Songbirds in Your Yard that using honey as a sweetness source is not good for the little birds. It ferments and can be a cause of disease. Sharon has the trumpet flower plant that serves a s a great natural food source. My apologies to hummingbird lovers. Where did I get that honey based food mix reference?
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Hawk Muntain PA
Bell 11.08 Earl Plato\
A Retiree Goes to Hawk Mountain
When retirement comes you should have a plan for enjoying each day the Lord has given you. I know enjoyment comes in many forms. Some retired people I know find joys some days visiting the sick in their homes or hospitals. That’s great. Some play a round of golf with their friends. Many retirees I know just like to talk a good walk. Be active. Be useful while you can.
I was on a hawk watch. I planned to visit famous Hawk Mountain in north eastern Pennsylvania. This raptor sanctuary is both remote but accessible. We drove divided highway most of the way. We drove in rain and arrived in rain. My computer oriented weather forecast had let me down. Torrential downpour. The weather was lousy, with waves of torrential rain pelting Hawk Mountain. Take it easy. There’s always tomorrow. We headed to Reading for the night. It was about twenty miles south. We came back to the sanctuary next day as the sun burst through. We had come all this way to see hawks. We went to the outdoor theatre where two park rangers gave us a hawk and owl lessons. They had two permanently damaged birds. The first was a nine year old red-tiled hawk The second was a Great horned owl. All of us asked many questions of the two knowledgeable rangers. It was a worthwhile experience. Then the rains came again, Head for the center, eh. The center had various dioramas and well presented. Both Ed and I bought Hawk mountain caps, We paid our $3.00 for the climb. The monies were used to run the sanctuary/\Note: Years ago Hawk Mountain was a place where target shooters would come in the fall to kill thousands and thousands of migrating hawks. It was a wanton slaughter! Not now. The land is posted and well-guarded by the park rangers We didn’t minding paying the fee.
Yes three of us had good climbing boots. I had my Shenandoah walking staff , however, this time because of the slippery rocks it as more of a detriment. Most of the people we met on the arduous climb were hawk watcher enthusiasts. We read the trail markers. I decided to take the short trail to the North Lookout. Mistake! It was a bad move. Huge twenty foot high boulders confronted us. The next half hour was spent climbing this tortuous path. Finally we reached the other side. Here the trail was much easier. We rested. It was misty and visibility poor. There were about ten of us gathered there on the top of Hawk Mountain. Poor day we saw and heard a pair of sharp-shinned hawks. That was it. The rains returned and we headed for the woods and the downward path. A great place but with terrible weather for we three Canadians.
Lesson learned. Call or e-mail ahead to determine good weather times.
A Retiree Goes to Hawk Mountain
When retirement comes you should have a plan for enjoying each day the Lord has given you. I know enjoyment comes in many forms. Some retired people I know find joys some days visiting the sick in their homes or hospitals. That’s great. Some play a round of golf with their friends. Many retirees I know just like to talk a good walk. Be active. Be useful while you can.
I was on a hawk watch. I planned to visit famous Hawk Mountain in north eastern Pennsylvania. This raptor sanctuary is both remote but accessible. We drove divided highway most of the way. We drove in rain and arrived in rain. My computer oriented weather forecast had let me down. Torrential downpour. The weather was lousy, with waves of torrential rain pelting Hawk Mountain. Take it easy. There’s always tomorrow. We headed to Reading for the night. It was about twenty miles south. We came back to the sanctuary next day as the sun burst through. We had come all this way to see hawks. We went to the outdoor theatre where two park rangers gave us a hawk and owl lessons. They had two permanently damaged birds. The first was a nine year old red-tiled hawk The second was a Great horned owl. All of us asked many questions of the two knowledgeable rangers. It was a worthwhile experience. Then the rains came again, Head for the center, eh. The center had various dioramas and well presented. Both Ed and I bought Hawk mountain caps, We paid our $3.00 for the climb. The monies were used to run the sanctuary/\Note: Years ago Hawk Mountain was a place where target shooters would come in the fall to kill thousands and thousands of migrating hawks. It was a wanton slaughter! Not now. The land is posted and well-guarded by the park rangers We didn’t minding paying the fee.
Yes three of us had good climbing boots. I had my Shenandoah walking staff , however, this time because of the slippery rocks it as more of a detriment. Most of the people we met on the arduous climb were hawk watcher enthusiasts. We read the trail markers. I decided to take the short trail to the North Lookout. Mistake! It was a bad move. Huge twenty foot high boulders confronted us. The next half hour was spent climbing this tortuous path. Finally we reached the other side. Here the trail was much easier. We rested. It was misty and visibility poor. There were about ten of us gathered there on the top of Hawk Mountain. Poor day we saw and heard a pair of sharp-shinned hawks. That was it. The rains returned and we headed for the woods and the downward path. A great place but with terrible weather for we three Canadians.
Lesson learned. Call or e-mail ahead to determine good weather times.
Finally
It’s On My Desk Earl Plato
Finally! On the last day of July wife, Elaine, accomplished it. For several years I have looked for a carving of the Old Squaw duck now called Long-Tail. More than once at Log Cabin Antiques in Fonthill I looked. Yes, we finally saw one. Too much money for the unique carving? I guess so for I didn’t buy it. I returned three days later. You know the scenario - ‘Old Squaw’ had been sold. That was 1998! We have asked local woodcarvers about the duck. “Too risky to do with the extremely long tail.” No luck here at Niagara Falls with would-be carvers or up in the Kitchener-Waterloo area. Years passed. However, each year in January and February we saw and heard the Old Squaws during their mating time at Niagara-on-the-Lake. There up to 200 of these high Arctic ducks gathered on the Niagara River across from Fort Niagara. This year we counted only about sixty. I set up my bird scope and viewed these good-looking ducks. I never tire of seeing these Long-Taileds.
Now thanks to Elaine I can view my beautiful carving on this August 1st day. At a Niagara-on-the Lake store Elaine and two of my daughters spied the carving. Elaine asked, “Is that an Old Squaw?” The owner unlocked the cabinet. Inscribed on the base - “Old Squaw.” “I’ll take it!” It’s a beautiful limited edition and I am happy.
Like most other ducks Long-tails have distinctive male and female plumages. Of course my carving is that of the male with winter plumage. In my Ducks of Canada reference book I read the following about this duck: “The result is one of the most complex series of plumage patterns to be found in any bird.” Just another reason to love Old Squaw.
My carving captures this nicely proportioned duck with its neatly rounded head. It has a small bill and a short neck. My male model has the long extended tail feathers hence the name, Long-tail. Sorry, no grandchildren will handle Earl’s prize. Look but not touch, eh.
Collectors - never give up looking. You never know.
Finally! On the last day of July wife, Elaine, accomplished it. For several years I have looked for a carving of the Old Squaw duck now called Long-Tail. More than once at Log Cabin Antiques in Fonthill I looked. Yes, we finally saw one. Too much money for the unique carving? I guess so for I didn’t buy it. I returned three days later. You know the scenario - ‘Old Squaw’ had been sold. That was 1998! We have asked local woodcarvers about the duck. “Too risky to do with the extremely long tail.” No luck here at Niagara Falls with would-be carvers or up in the Kitchener-Waterloo area. Years passed. However, each year in January and February we saw and heard the Old Squaws during their mating time at Niagara-on-the-Lake. There up to 200 of these high Arctic ducks gathered on the Niagara River across from Fort Niagara. This year we counted only about sixty. I set up my bird scope and viewed these good-looking ducks. I never tire of seeing these Long-Taileds.
Now thanks to Elaine I can view my beautiful carving on this August 1st day. At a Niagara-on-the Lake store Elaine and two of my daughters spied the carving. Elaine asked, “Is that an Old Squaw?” The owner unlocked the cabinet. Inscribed on the base - “Old Squaw.” “I’ll take it!” It’s a beautiful limited edition and I am happy.
Like most other ducks Long-tails have distinctive male and female plumages. Of course my carving is that of the male with winter plumage. In my Ducks of Canada reference book I read the following about this duck: “The result is one of the most complex series of plumage patterns to be found in any bird.” Just another reason to love Old Squaw.
My carving captures this nicely proportioned duck with its neatly rounded head. It has a small bill and a short neck. My male model has the long extended tail feathers hence the name, Long-tail. Sorry, no grandchildren will handle Earl’s prize. Look but not touch, eh.
Collectors - never give up looking. You never know.
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