Rocks and a River for Kids

     “Do you want to go fishing at the park?” was the question from my son last night. 
    “Sure, we will meet you there!” This was my first chance to fish with my grandsons, aged 2 and 3.      Should be interesting was all I could think. The fish will have to be quick if they want to grab one of their hooks. The boys have not been known to sit still for very long and their attention span is quite fleeting. I will have to have the shutter speed set very fast if I want to get a photo of them sitting.
     There were scores of gulls strutting around the grassy knolls at the park. To get the boys interested, I told them how to catch a bird (as was explained to me when I was their age by my grandfather): “Put sugar on their tail and you will catch one!” Today, I have no sugar so I substitute sand. 
     With a bit of sand in each of their little hands, I set them off to the capture of a sea gull. “Go quietly and slowly,” I caution them, to little avail.

Grandpa said you can catch a bird if you put sand on his tail

This activity entertains them for almost one full minute while their Dad gets the $8.00 rods hooked with pink marshmallows and red-and-white bobbers. We dare not tell the boys they were using marshmallows as the pink bait would soon be smeared all over their lips and tongue, probably with hook embedded. It wasn’t long until the bobbers were floating in the pond with a boy at the controlling end. 
     “No fleet fish yet?”  Within 30 seconds the rods are lying on the ground and the boys are chasing and dodging goose patties. Once in a while they are reminded that they were fishing and with a bit of encouragement from Grandma they sit down with their rods.

Are the fish in the water Gramma?

 An Osprey flies overhead but quickly moves on to the next pond knowing he is out competed. Geese paddle by in hopes of a free meal and show but also quickly swim off.
     Distractions are numerous for little fishing boys: hills to climb, ducks swimming, gulls to catch, dogs running, strangers to be introduced to, bugs to observe, distant train whistles, ambulance sirens, flowers to pick, running, summersaults to perform, Grandmas to query, Dads to worry and frustrate Grandpa trying to snap a photo. It is tiring.

     The river is nearby so we wind up the hooks and head down the path toward more adventure. There are nearly ripe, high-bush cranberries and chokecherries to sample along the way. Spitting seeds and sour mush from screwed-up faces entertains grandpa for a minute or two, as dubious-and- protective grandma and father watched this age old game. These free food samples have all been demonstrated to them too, over the years. 
     There is a steep trail down to the river’s edge which all manage to negotiate intact.

Big Splash Grandpa

The rocky beach is soon totally transferred to the river depths. Rocks are tossed, skipped and splashed into the river. Big rocks, tiny rocks and flat rocks are each designed for various techniques of throwing. Not every flat rock is just for skipping; it could be used for distance throwing, gliding out in curved arc to splash down far beyond where an ordinary round rock might land. The boys are learning that rocks have to be the correct shape and heft to fit the curve of throwing finger properly. Perfect rocks should be preserved and treasured when found and I am sure the boys will get to appreciate them as they mature into rock-throwing aficionados, years from now. It helps to have a mentor or professor of GGMTA (granular geological missile trajectory arts). It also helps immensely to have competition from professional rock tossers as well as boys of equal and lesser abilities. With competitors, it will not be long until technique improves so their rock distances will naturally increase.
     Boys are sure that girls don’t count, as they can’t throw rocks, or so they think. 
     My son will soon be a professor to his boys, as he can toss a good rock almost half-way across the river. Both boys are suitably impressed as I was able to convince them that my rock went all the way across as there was no splash. I can still feel the ache in my shoulder and elbow.  The rock I used for this one-time demonstration was quickly deposited into my pocket as they intently watched for splash-down.

Look Grandpa

     There were certainly a couple of distractions on the river beach. Understandingly, the youngest came over with a giant earthworm to show me, and the eldest boy spent a fair bit of time

climbing the steep sandbank while grasping for willow roots and branches as assistance and for stability. These are hardly distractions but demonstrate a natural affinity to nature and life skills required for future survival. 
     The boys  are both muddy, only partially wet, mosquito bitten, and I am satisfied that their real life education has finally begun. They are both very interested in the subject matter so the future looks promising for all of us. 
     I look forward to the day they catch a fish, somehow! They are not yet ready, nor am I, for the confines of a small boat.

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Bison Rut

Peeping Toms, we weren't but we could have been accused of this crime. We spent a couple of

hours last evening watching a large herd of Plains Bison following their primordial urges of species propagation. 

Plains Bison Cow With Bull

These bison are the direct ancestors of the less than 200 remaining bison left over from herds, estimated at up to 60 million during the mid to end of 1800s. The massive bison herds were slaughtered by white hunters for their valuable hides leaving skinned carcasses to rot. This slaughter was also sanctioned by the American government as a method of removing the main food source for native people, depriving proud tribes of a culture and way of life that had gone on for more than 10,000 years. About 50 years is all it took to destroy massive herds of bison and with them went the passenger pigeon, kit fox, prairie chicken, black footed ferret and more. Some of these critters have been brought back from the verge of extinction by visionary, dedicated people who continue to study and work today for all of our benefits.

200 bison were rescued and sent to Alberta's Elk Island National Park, located just east of Edmonton. North of the Yellowhead highway 16 is home to pure bred Plains Bison while south of the highway Woodland Bison flourish. This fully enclosed park has now sent both breeds of bison to many different regions around the world. Bison are prolific breeders so it doesn't take long to over populate the park and over graze the parkland. Excess bison have been transferred to many states and parks in USA, Saskatchewan and eastern Siberia where they are very successfully re-introducing extirpated populations of bison.

Bison Wallowing

We both watched and felt and heard and smelled the bison rut last night. I tried to come up with some way of describing it with words but there is too much happening at once. Bison are very large animals, larger than any cows or bulls of domestic breeds. They are noisy, powerful, massive and vocal. Odours wafted across the dusty meadow; dusty because of all the wallowing and wrestlling, chasing and retreating. An almost constant grunting, bellowing, coughing, grunting, rattling of short curved horns and black hooves and head smashing of dominate bulls challenging for a sweetheart kept our heads swivelling round and forward. Masculinity and testosterone fuelled competitive bulls vied for tempting feminine wiles. This is a powerful time of year for bison lustily rejuvenating the herd. This evening is raw, real, erotic and wild. It is a demonstration of aggressive, carefree, natural power that will carry on long after dark and into the next day, lasting for about a month or so. 

Crashing Bulls

Afterwards, peace and quiet will settle over the park until Wapiti bugling and moose grunts and then softly bleating deer will take over. Antler crashing will take over from horny head butting. Procreation in the park is rampant from early August through November. 

I hope to get out as voyeuristic witness to all of these Mother Nature local great events.

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Camping With Friends

"It takes a long time to make old friends," the old saying goes and they are rare, for me anyways. I have known Wayne and Naida for more than 50 some years. We have history, so when they called last week to say they would be at Whitehorse Provincial Park located near Cadomin, Alberta, we jumped at the opportunity to join them to make a few more memories. Wayne is a cowboy and was camped in the mountains for a horse back ride. Naida goes with him but she keeps the campfire burning while she relaxes with a good book. They live in a combo horse trailer with small living quarters. It is the perfect outfit for them.

We don't have a trailer or a big enough vehicle to tow one so we decided to pull out the old tent. I had not set it up for about 7 or 8 years so we did check it for damage and parts. All was proclaimed looking good by Wifey. Next a quick trip to Canadian Tire for a pie burner and we also decided to splurge on a foot inflating double sized air mattress, complete with cup holder. Wifey spent Friday packing food, gear clothing enough for an army. We left after work heading west toward Hinton, the turn off spot into the wilderness, where we took the last hotel room available in town. Cheap it wasn't but it was comfortable as thunder and lightning ripped through the country toward our mountainous destination.

Along the way from Sherwood Park to Hinton we spotted a black bear struggling to cross the busy 4 lane highway. I managed to stop and get a few pictures to remind all of us to be wary of wildlife unexpectedly crossing roads. This bear made it but we see evidence on every trip of wildlife that don't.

Wildlife and Vehicles

We arrived at our friends campsite after spotting some Rocky Mountain Sheep Rams sporting tremendous full curl, broomed off horns. These rams were grazing on protected coal mining leases that have been fully or partially rehabilitated. We also managed to spot a "moose, no a pig, no it's a WOLF!" A very large, black timber wolf stood calmly about 50 meters away gazing at us with penetrating amber eyes as if judging our heritage and current intentions. What an immense pleasure that is to me to see.

Timber Wolf

After a hearty greeting from our friends and an exploratory sniff from a skulking camp dog, Wayne impressed upon us that a grizzly bear had been wandering around and through the campsite for the past week or so. The authorities had considered closing this campsite but everything seems to be okay now. There is a trail closed just up the path because of another grizzly dining on a fresh horse carcass.

After a quick lunch we took off for a walk. We just ambled along admiring the spectacular scenery, the profusion of wildflowers and the freshness of the air. After getting back to camp a few hours later Wifey and I decided to set up our tent. With memories of past tent erections that did not go as the instructions stated, a bit of trepidation and dread she followed to my chosen site. There was only one rock embedded firmly into the ground but I thought the new air mattress should cover that okay. It was a choice of a lump or a hole to sleep in. I didn't mention to her the two choices or I would have had to find a backhoe to remove the lump. Surprisingly, the tent went up very well with only a few parts left over. Even the fly almost fit right. The air mattress went pretty well too, after getting the knack and the pump timing figured out. Soon Fay had the bed made, sleeping bag lofting and pillows fluffed, ready for dark. She did notice parts of the tent that I never did. Loops on the inside for hanging clothes as well as stringing a clothesline. Flashlight was found to have a good battery and there was a handy pocket in which to store my bear spray, just in case. After a delicious barbecued steak supper, the cooking aroma of which wafted far and wide throughout grizzly country we sat around telling bear tales, camping stories and reminiscing of the good old days. Darkness slowly settled into the valley so we decided to retire for the night. 

It took a while to get settled, what with the cold zipper touching my naked back unexpectedly, the bear spray canister whacking my head if I moved wrong and me trying to fit my 5'11 frame into an optimistically advertised 6' square nylon tent, I soon dozed off.

My eyes popped open suddenly on high alert. It didn't help as it was pitch black. There was a soft cough just outside of those thin nylon walls. Something was sniffing, something large, it wasn't Wifey. I listened intently, then felt the tent wall move. A large nose pushed that cold nylon against my naked back. Instant attention, I swatted it. That nose seemed pretty heavy. I grabbed the bear spray and sprang to my feet. The tent was not 5'11 tall. It was 4'11, maybe. I somehow found my pants and hopped one footed on the, by now, half inflated air mattress but managed to get them up and belt buckled. I was bent over in a very unnatural position trying to pull my zipper up. I jerked it up right into Bobby's foreskin. By this time I had almost hung myself on Wifey's clothes line, had the safety off the bear spray canister and now Bobby was securely hooked and bleeding. I knew I had it to do but surely didn't want to; I jerked the zipper back down freeing badly wounded and bleeding little Bobby. Through all the bouncing and she said wailing, I had managed to rouse Wifey from a dead sleep so I passed her the bear spray, forgetting to inform her that I had already released the safety. I reached for the tent door zipper and managed to get it caught in itself as well. I got my head out the bottom of the door peering around looking for that offencive nose. Somehow, in passing the baton like bear spray back to me, she, I think, set it off. Now neither of us could see through tear filled eyes or breathe. Wifey was also now trying to get through the same door hole I had already occupied and we did not fit . I was getting pummelled from behind and above as my head was outside getting slobbered on by the lonely camp dog wondering what was going on.

This possible event is a summation of the conversation we enjoyed as we sat around the fire with a glass of wine, full bellies and the love and companionship of old friends. I can see it all happening.

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Sleeping Giant

"It's a sleeping giant!" the road guard told us about the forest fire we had come so far to see. "It is not out  by a long shot. We say we have it under control but there are still lots of hot spots that could spring to life with the right conditions. We will be here for a while yet and hope for a good rain to help out." 

This 7000 Ha. fire that has been burning for the past couple weeks began with a lightening strike. It burned right up to the Icefields Parkway in Banff National Park. It burned up the mountainsides to the tree line in many areas. Park rangers were able to save their own warden station and the hotel at The Crossing. Workers from the hotel complex were evacuated for about 5 hours and had to work in stifling smoke for a few days. All are now okay as long as the giant sleeps.

Smoke and Hot Spots

Wild fires are spectacular sights to see and the blackened mountainsides now seem so barren and dead. It is wrong to think of this natural occurrence as a disaster to the environment. It must be looked upon as rejuvenation, a rebirth of forest, in this case. Wildfires occur on prairie grasslands, shrub brush as we see in California and Australia as well as tundra and forest. They are quite harmful to wildlife such as nesting birds, amphibians and snakes or slow moving creatures like porcupines. Most of these critters would die from lack of oxygen which is consumed by superheated gasses ahead of the fire. Animals that are mobile enough to escape the firestorm must now find new territory to live in. This can be quite stressful for animals like bears who must now rustle over unknown territory for food. 

A Lot of Berries to Put a Bear to Sleep Safely

Wolves must now compete with neighbouring packs who are very territorial. It will not be an easy go for some of the wildlife displaced by this fire.

The Beginning, Not the End

The land itself can be permanently scarred, depending upon how intense the fire was. Rich duff layers and roots can be consumed by ground fires. This may cause erosion to occur during rainstorms as there is nothing for the water to soak into to delay the runoff. Also carried by the torrents would be ash and burned debris into neighbouring streams and rivers. Mother Nature has considered these temporary hardships for the long term benefits of the land.

Fire helps to control pests such as dreaded Pine Beetle who have caused the demise of millions of acres of pine forest across western Canada and U.S.A. Mature and diseased trees will now be converted into usable soil nutrients through ash and their long term decay. Invasive plant species and weeds are brought under control and a new forest begins. Pine cones need fire to pop them open releasing seeds that will create a new and vibrant forest habitat. Sunlight can now penetrate the burned skeletal trees allowing sun needy trees, shrubs, berries and grasses to grow. Soon animals will move in, animals not seen in this area for years. Grazing and browsing deer, moose and and elk begin then predators will follow. For years woodpeckers will enjoy a feast as bugs and insects will do their best to convert the burn scarred trees to dust. New birds will begin to nest in the woodpecker excavations and different birds will begin nesting in new shrubs and grass on the forest floor. 

Plants such as fireweed will flourish attracting insects and bees which will attract more insect feeding birds such as warblers, vireos and flycatchers.

This life generating recovery does not happen as quickly as the firestorm demolition did, but it is all part of a naturally regenerative cycle designed by Mother Nature herself for the long term benefit of all. It happens at Her speed, a blink of Her eye, not ours. It will be fun to watch and document this miracle while I am able.

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Nature on the Way to Work

I am fortunate to work in the next city down the road and have to commute through beautiful agricultural land, mixed forest, pot hole lakes, puddles and sloughs. I often leave fifteen minutes early or dilly-dally on the way home so I have time to pause at any highlights I may spot along the way. Right now these trips are most often highlighted by babies. Baby deer, fox kits, moose calves and many ducklings and goslings. I particularly like one of the back roads that I use. The road loops around the edge of a cattail lined 40 acre pond. The opposite side of the road is planted to field peas this year. Every goose worthy of its goosey name is spending part of the day grazing in the first 30 meters as well as teaching their goslings what great food peas are. 

Young Goslings

These goslings development are a fair bit ahead of others I have seen in this region, perhaps because of the great food. The road is slick with goose droppings between the field and the pond. I don't know what the insurance company would think of your excuse of your car losing traction on a goose crap covered road and splashing into duck weed covered, water filled ditch. 

Killdeer chicks are seen scurrying along the narrow beach from reed tussock to cattail cluster while mother limps along with broken wing crying in phony distress. I parked along this quiet road and watched quietly as a soft breeze ruffled the pond and reeds rustled against their neighbours. Cattail seed heads have not yet begun to form puffy heads but tall reeds do have green seed heads already developed. Red-winged blackbirds still call their distinctive notes and gulls cry overhead. The sweet odour of pond, goose crap and flowering peas wafts through my consciousness as I peered intently through the camera viewfinder. 

Sora Feeding Soralet

Quick movement amongst the reeds draws my attention to a tiny black critter running across the duckweed crusted pond. It looks like a baby turkey vulture, black body with bald looking red patch above the bill. I didn't know vultures could do that. As I watched, another black chick, then another one emerged, muttering to each other. Mystery is soon solved as a mother Sora emerges briefly from the deep cover of the reedy shallows. I watched as she fed one of her Soralets and then ran off. They don't stay close but there is a quiet chatter between all members of the family. I spot a muskrat falling young cattails like a lumberjack, then chewing them up like a wood chipper. Cattail stubble is then noticed all along the shallows so this rat is making a fine living here. 

Muskrat Feeding on Reeds

A little way off is a Green-winged teal mother watching over her flock of about 8 or 9 ducklings. Further out in the lake a mallard family paddles, sans Dad. 

Mother Bufflehead has a flock of about 8 chicks in tow as 3 Short-billed Dowitchers probe for hidden bugs buried in the soft shoreline. (why is it called short-billed? It isn't short billed at all. Perhaps in comparison to the long-billed Dowitcher) They look like lively long needled sewing machines probing rapidly into the mud for insects, worms or bugs.

Short-billed Dowitcher

I find it interesting when I see the youngsters of these varied families. How do they know to probe, tip, dive, scurry or dabble for food? Did Mom show them already or is it instinct? How do they know what to eat; bugs, grass, seeds, peas, worms or fish?

How many times I have driven past varied ponds and puddles similar to this one with little regard to the life happening within its reedy shoreline? I have never looked into the pond itself that a small dip net and microscope would reveal. (I must someday) Baby ducks know about this hidden life already, perhaps not by name but certainly by texture and flavor. 

These few minutes of observation every once in a while not only revives my wild spirit but also demonstrates the value of each puddle, no matter how insignificant it may be to the people who speed past daily. Each part of the pond is dependent upon clean water entering as runoff from the sky, the road the forest or neighbouring field. Is this field water polluted by glyphosate, phosphorous fertiliser or fungicide sprays? Is there oil dribbled onto the road or too much sediment running in from salted roads in winter? I just know that we all have a duty to do what we can to protect our wilds, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem to be to us.

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Children Need Nature

A few times over the past couple years I have had the pleasure of spending time with my young grand children in wilderness settings. Sometimes for short walks around the community park in this little city or along river trails on the outskirts. This past weekend we were together for the whole weekend with plenty of room to run, play and explore. The boys got to ride a pony for the first time but other than that everything was unscheduled and unorganised but well supervised. Even the young teenagers managed to entertain themselves and enjoyed their time at the family reunion. The 2 year old boy has a fascination for bugs.

Bugs

 Every bug on the trail has to be examined and there is no moving him until he is satisfied and ready to go on to the next one. Flowers have to be checked and smelled and every water puddle has to be splashed through. The boys rode small bikes or pushed a walk in car. They stomped, ran, walked, crawled and rolled in the grass. They smashed pinatas, learned to bat balls and met and shared toys with strange cousins.

Teeter totters, swings and slides were all rode. The 2 and 3 year old boys were thoroughly entertained in the safe, wide open space around the ranch. This was about as wild a space as these youngsters have had a chance to run in. They were different kids than they are when cooped up at home. There was no whining, fighting, arguing, fighting, tantrums or intolerable misbehaving all weekend. These were really good kids full of joy, wonder and wide eyed excitement the whole time. They were hungry when the real meal came. They were tired by bed time. They were a pleasure to watch and be around all weekend. I attribute this magical transformation to wide open spaces, wild variety, room to run, good food, new friends and cousins, natural enthusiasm and curiosity,  
The young ladies were very helpful in entertaining the boys and joining in with all the strange adult cousins they met for the first time. Even great grandma enjoyed herself surrounded by the family she built in a country setting that we all love. I find these times in the outdoors seem to draw the best from all of us. Everyone seems to be relaxed and more forgiving than when stressed out at jobs and busy homes, adults included. We all seem to need the fresh air, open space, quiet and darkness of wild places. There are more stars, bigger skies, taller clouds and wild flowers and of course mosquitoes. It can't all be perfect but is manageable with good dope.

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Family Reunion

After a year of warning, invitations, planning, reservations and preparations our family gathered at the Red Lodge Resort Ranch located a few miles west of Bowden, Alberta. 

Red Lodge Resort Ranch Campground

Not everyone joined but those who did had a great time. We visited, met kids, now grown up with kids of their own, cousins met cousins who had lost connection due to life. We move, we work and play and we all change. We have all aged, gained weight and changed hair colour naturally or by design. Some members have new mates, some hang in and live comfortably with old ones. We are all held together by the common family bond of a Mother. Our mother has had three different husbands so we are a blended family with the same Mother genes. Seven kids from the same woman who lived through tough, historic times. We all carry hard times scars, invisible to untrained observers. I look with envy at my wife's family, a whole family with very regular family tree. I see how easy it was to draw her family tree and the simple uncomplicated life they lead. Theirs was not a wealthy, monetarily, family, rather, a supporting and loving family in their own way.

Our tree was dramatic and difficult tree to draw, roots from several families blended and melded  together in a not always harmonious design to construct who we are today. I watched with pride who we have become. All members are hard working, contributing members of society. We have all raised families of our own and most of our families are working on theirs. With the loving support of our family all of us will be okay. We may not always be very loving, certainly not clinging or expressive, but are all supportive in times of need. Reunions should not just be at funerals or weddings but these occasions seem to be the most common excuses to show our love and support.

The Red Lodge Resort Ranch was the perfect spot to enjoy a family reunion. There are rustic cabins to house families or couples who do not have their own holiday trailers. There is room for kids to run, play and explore. 

Candy Flies From Smashed John Deere Pinata

Games can be played, balls kicked and batted, playground to swing and slide upon, there is room to run, walk and hide if need be. We enjoyed a hall with small kitchen in which to cook and eat and entertain. There is a riding arena where we took the young kids for their first horse ride. We walked up the trail with grand kids, some riding bikes, or foot powered toy cars or sauntered along observing bugs and smelling the roses. 

Stop and Smell the Roses

We watched as they smashed candy stuffed pinatas and roasted wieners and marshmallows. I saw two and three year old kids mesmerised by our live entertainer, Richard Popowich who put on a wildly entertaining hour long performance of singing, joking and drawing out ordinarily shy family members. He was even interrupted by a 10 minute hailstorm and started over without missing a beat.

Stormy Reunion, Sun Does Shine Again

 Great job Richard Popowich.

Richard Popowich the Entertainer

I do look forward to our next family gathering. I will show up no matter how busy we are.

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