January 2009

You know, it’s funny — at a distance, the open river sounds just like the highway.

Last week brought a day or two’s respite from winter’s worst, and it looks like I wasn’t the only one grateful for it. Beyond the usual suspects (woodpeckers, squirrels, chickadees, bloggers) reports have come in regarding kindly groups of pigeons, two brilliant cardinals (one following/chasing the other), and a big furry thing:

Subsequent closer inspection revealed it to be a porcupine. But no clearer pictures, I’m afraid; just as I was drawing close to the base of its tree, the camera suffered a battery-related demise. Although this was somewhat frustrating at the time, I realize now that it was likely a timely inconvenience. Sneaking up on a porcupine — whether it’s asleep or not — is probably not a great idea, and calling off the chase due to technical difficulties was likely the right thing to do.

Now, I came across this fellow down by Mud Lake, which is just a short piece downstream-ish from Britannia Bay. I figure the thing to do is return to the same tree at roughly the same time of day (8:00am) and see if our friend is there again. So, stay tuned…

There you have it: a picture as grainy as the night is cold. For more on this notion of a “perigee moon,” you can click here. It certainly made for a bright evening, and that despite the clouds overhead.

Here the old moon pitches in to illuminate the Belltown Dome’s elaborate exo-structure.

The sun was up and the breeze was down, so I ventured out onto the ice today. I’m certainly not the only one who has done so, either; judging by the great proliferation of tracks, many people are using the ice these days. There’s even a skating rink that’s been cleared off out there (with a great surface, too):

Now, the animal tracks seem to be the most interesting to follow, leading through strange nooks and crannies, and often intersecting each other in interesting ways. But a note of caution: one must remain alert to the conditions underfoot when following such tracks, especially when they might be the tracks of animals that weigh significantly less than post-holiday humans. Today, one such pursuit was abruptly halted by a quiet creak in the ice below, along with a neat fissure in the snow covering – clear signs that a diversion in course is perhaps a good idea.

Speaking of critters, the lot appear to have been busy as of late. As we can see, not all of the recent waterfront developments are necessarily man made:

Not far from here, I noticed a pair of woodpeckers working over trees in tandem, and exchanging some communication between them while they were at it. They seemed to prefer the sunnier side of the trees – I wonder if the heat can soften up the wood a little? Anyhow, Britannia’s birds seem a most challenging subject of study: hard to find, and even trickier (for a novice like myself) to identify with any certainty.

But for all its pleasing diversion, bird-watching remains is not without its own perils. Indeed, the traversal of rough winter terrain with one’s eyes steadily trained skyward can be a risky business. I was lucky to have ended up on my rear only once (and that in a mostly-dry creekbed), but not, I guess, quite lucky enough to avoid certain tree branches that protrude at unfortunate angles through the ice and into the sensitive anatomical bits of innocent passersby. Quite a thing, really, but not much you can do about it, except to keep calm and carry on.

Before we go, I can at least give you an update on last post’s Drainpipe excitement. As you might expect, the torrent left some impressive ice formations:

Northward, towards the bay:

And one more view:

Do pardon the dimly-lit photos, but I’m just getting the hang of the most recent in a long line of hand-me-down cameras (this one is number four!).

With any luck, I’ll have some more exciting news about Britannia’s drain pipes when next we meet. Until then, take care out there.

Last summer we left Dirleton’s verdant pastures behind and moved into the city. Although this relocation process inconveniently coincided with the final stretch of a certain major project, the move was an altogether good one and has put us even closer to the Ottawa River than we were previously (albeit some 30 km downstream). And so, the New Year’s Project is this: ongoing, informal monitoring of the nearby Britannia Bay. I’ve had my eye on it for a few months now, and it’s turning out to be quite the place — maybe even worth writing home about. So, without further delay, I present Britannia Baywatch #1.

Things have pretty much frozen up by now, and aside from some riparian bits the surface is snow-covered. When I was out today (early afternoon), the skies were clear and the temperature was around -15°C.

The winds were up, much to the apparent delight of the kiteboarding-set. Oddly enough, one sail was emblazoned with what looked like a mudpuppy (not a species typically associated with rapid aerial movement, at least as far as I know):

The strong gusts coming off the frozen bay may have deterred certain birds that frequent the stretch of shoreline I visited today. I didn’t hear a single peep until I was on my way home; it seems the Chickadees were spending their time in the lee of the Belltown Dome, while a Hairy Woodpecker was making her rounds along Haughton Street. No sign of the White-breasted Nuthacthes that I’ve seen in recent months, however.

Anyhow, we’ll see what turns up tomorrow.