I’ve written before about living in a bus, but why not try living in a caboose? This treasure came up on the local craigslist page the other day. Here’s a link to the ad, and I’ve included the picture — those postings tend to die off after a while and this one is too good to leave behind:

Looks like quite the place. A little spiffier than the last caboose I set foot in, that’s for sure. Here’s what they say about it:

Great for guest house or cottage.Caboose is currently located in North Bay Ontario, Originally ordered by the Temiskimang & Northern Ontario Railroad in 1939 now Ontario Northland. Built by the Hamilton Steel Car Co. It was ordered as a passenger car to go North from North Bay as there was no passenger trains going north back then, all passengers had to ride in the caboose of the freight trains. Inside is restored to its original state including colors, Floor replaced and insulated with 2 layers of styrofoam SM, Benches, bunks and conductors desk were stripped and redone. Comfortabally sleeps 6 all year long, even in -40 weather. Well insulated when built, warms up fast. All lights work, lots of recipiticals, cable TV and telephone. I have not finished the bathroom and shower, but there is room and easily done.(50,000lb) Van body lifts off wheels, moved it there with a low boy Transport and a crane lift at each location (same crane two lifts). Wheels, (14,000lbs each of 2) tracks, ties and crossing lights moved with a boom truck so all in all no big deal but that all depends on how far, and where it is going. My cost to move it was $1300.00 but that was years ago.

Although the sky was grey, I decided to head down to the waterline today. The goal of the trip was to see if anything interesting had washed up during the spring thaw, and I’m glad to report that beyond the usual riparian fare there were a few novelties to delight this beachcomber. The most interesting find happened to be the most colourful; what started off as a bit red cloth (buried in drift) turned out to be a flag:

Depending on which way you fly it, the flag could be either the Russian Tricolour or the Serbian National Flag. I’ll admit, though, that at first glance I wondered if it might be a French Tricolore, being just across the water from la belle province and all. Now, I just left the drapeau where I found it, even though the more considerate course of action likely would have been to rescue the sorry flag, tidy it up, and fold it. It seems slighted somehow, just lying there. But Britannia Bay is a haven for seafarers, and so a lot of the flotsam and jetsam along the shore is nautical in nature. Perhaps a wandering Russian or Serb will find it and take it home.

I also came across some more “organic” remains: a thoroughly dead seagull (sorry, no picture!), as well as a collection of shells (presumably left by a muskrat or some such creature),

…and a strip of animal fur.

One last image, a discarded baby soother:

Aside from the flag, the colour palette of today’s pictures is universally bland — with any luck things will brighten up a bit over the next few weeks.

I learned today that it is in fact Blog Action Day. And the theme this year is “the environment” — not far off our usual fare.

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Well, the water levels are low around here these days. Just take a look at the creek:

While it hasn’t quite run dry, it’s been reduced to a scant trickle. The once healthy flow has been replaced by stagnant pools and bare rock. For comparison’s sake, I’ll show you an image of the same stretch that was taken back in November of 2006, which looks significantly moister:

Seems to me that the difference is quite clear! Here’s another comparison between now and then — last year there was a good flow beneath the bridge:

While this year things look a little different:

I’m not sure if this is a widespread problem, however… you’d have to ask our friends at the Canadian Hydrographic Service about that. But I’m finding this local aridity to be a bit of a drag… do I depend on the creek for bloggable material, you might wonder? Well, yes, I would say, yes I do — over the years it has been the subject of many a post. Admittedly, I can now walk up the creekbed (a new experience), thereby traversing on foot paths only accessible in the past via canoe (or snowshoe).

As it turned out, this change in the water table proved fortuitous; it was while on a pleasant stroll up the creek just the other day that I discovered something small but promising — which I took back home, cleaned off, and now present to (taking full advantage of the power of optics):

Well, I thought that a magnified view might clear things up a little but it appears to be quite useless. Here’s a proper closeup:

“Yes, but it’s just a rock,” you say. Right, but see those shiny bits on that otherwise benign piece of quartz? I seem to have (literally) struck gold, right in our little creek. So for the rest of the week I’ll be out panning… and all going well the next post on this old blogthing will be from Vegas!

I noticed this rig while on the way into town today.

Naturally, it seemed fit to take a closer look:

Now, don’t be fooled — this is not just a dilapidated school bus. Take a look inside, and you’ll see that it was once used as a residence. Of course, I wouldn’t characterize it as a “mobile home” judging from the lack of wheels and demolished engine…

And as usual, the crazy stuff happens at the back of the bus. But despite the disarray, the domesticity of the place is clear enough; there’s a makeshift couch, a bed, as well as a work bench. There was also a large furnace (wood stove) right behind the driver’s seat that had a chimney pipe running up through the roof.

Radically off-grid, but — all in all — not a bad pad. In its day, anyhow; at this point it’s what you might call a “fixer upper.”

Farther along the way into town (on McCordick Road) we noticed a newer-looking school bus that had also been domesticated. Perhaps this older model was the resident’s previous home.

I came across this one today:

It’s a 1898 issue featuring a wonderful map (multicolored to boot — which was a first in Canadian postage), reminding us of a time when the British empire really did span the four corners of the earth. (If you’re interested, you can check out a more detailed version right here.)

Interestingly, it’s noted here that the empire indicated on the stamp “is ‘vaster’ than reality. German South Africa, Portuguese East Africa and the Republics of Transvaal and the Orange Free State, and Borneo are colored red, but were not British.” So, it’s not only the printer’s fault that the red dye migrates a little (you can see how it overlaps here and there); it looks like the cartographer has a hand in it as well.

The stamp also features a quotation: “WE HOLD A VASTER EMPIRE THAN HAS BEEN.” Apparently, this is taken from Sir Lewis Morris’ “Song of Empire,” a poem written to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee (June 20, 1887). Try as I might, I couldn’t find the poem online.

Fred came across this little trinket in one of his drift samples the other day. It’s a muskrat jawbone, and (as you can see) it’s black. The discoloration’s a result of being stuck in the mud for a while. It’s certainly a capable-looking implement:

In other local rodent news, there are some fresh young bunnies out back. Guess they were born a couple weeks ago. They seem to spend most of their time huddled under a think layer of fur (kindly provided for by Mother Rabbit).

So, here’s a photograph of the mom as she keeps a watchful eye over her young:

…and here’s the father, who happens to be located in a different (but nearby) hutch:

Buster (that’s his name) is actually a pretty old rabbit; if you take a close look at his face, you can see that it looks wrinkled.

Now, I’ve noticed that two of my last three three of my last four (!) posts have been about small, cute, furry things; this is a trend that I’m not necessarily happy with. Hopefully the post in between about shotguns helped to balance things out, but in the meantime I’ll try to get back on track.

So, last Saturday we went struck out on Kemptville Creek, more or less in the name of (citizen) science. Here’s a map from Google Earth of the stretch we paddled:

We basically travelled from the bottom-left corner to the top- right one.

We started off (as we often do) at the bridge in Bishops Mills, and went downstream as far as the Highway 20 bridge. Water levels seemed to be high lately, but the gauge at the latter bridge put the level at “1″ (units unclear). Anyhow, the creek was high enough that we didn’t have to worry about bumping into any underwater obstructions while diligently scanning the skies and shores for species. We had a HOBO trailing in the water and another in the boat for the duration of the trip, and while the water temperature seemed to be steady around 16C over the course of our paddle (roughly three hours), while the air temperature dropped about by about 5C (25C -> 20C). It was a beautiful day for a paddle… funny how the first jaunt of the year coincides with first mosquito bites of the year. Can’t have one without the other, I guess.

But enough of that for now; let’s get to the BioBlitz species count. By the by, it looks like there’s been quite a bit of interest in the project — there are almost 50 participants signed up so far. For fun, I’ve included philatelic representations of species in my account where appropriate! Plenty of photos too, for the kids.

To begin, we noticed great numbers (~12) of the Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula). Mallard Ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) were also out en force, and we probably observed half a dozen mating pairs. The odd Red-Winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) crossed our path as well.

As novices, we were bound to end up playing one of the best games you can play in a canoe: “Muskrat or Beaver?” The Muskrats (Ondatra zibethicus) we saw were only confidently identified as such after we came across what was obviously a Beaver (Castor canadensis) — which is noticeably larger, and has a distinctive face. At a distance, though, it can be hard to tell which is which.

We also passed by an unfortunate (and by that I mean “dead”) Racoon (Procyon lotor) who was peaceably floating along. Speaking of floating, there were Leopard Frogs (Rana pipiens) all over the place,

… along with an Egg Clump of unknown origin.

Fred headed out later on to see if he could get an idea where the Leopard Frog chorus was located, and while by the bridge where we started out he noticed a Northern Water Snake (Nerodia sipedon). Hmm.

Along the way, we collected some shells (or should I say “freshwater invertebrates?”) which have since been identified as Bulimnea megasoma and Helisoma trivolvus. Also some Gyraulus, but I don’t know exactly which species we’re looking at here.

Not only did we see stuff, we also heard stuff. We paddled through some rather vocal frog choruses, both Leopard Frogs and Spring Peepers (Pseudacris crucifer). At one point the calls surrounding the canoe were almost deafening — seems like it’s going to be a good year for the frogs.We also heard what we believe to be a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). We did not hear the well known “kee-eer” descending scream, but rather an unusual “upslurred” one. You can listen to the calls here. Also audible was some woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus?) activity. We didn’t actually see the bird, so its species remains unknown.

(That’s a Pileated Woodpecker on the far-right!)

As far as plants go, I don’t have much to identify here. We came across many different kinds of moss and lichen, though. I have little hope of identifying them, however. Nevertheless, I’ll pass on a few photos… there’s a photogenic old wooden bridge that is host to a multitude of species.

Now, one of my favourite bits of this stretch of creek is a swampy area filled with Red Maple (Acer rubrum, also known as Swamp Maple, appropriately enough). The water level was high enough that we could paddle among the trees, which afforded some neat views. It always reminds me of that awesome arboreal level in Myst…

You can see that the Red Maples are just coming into their glory at this time of year:

On a side note, I might point out that the Red Maple was featured on a 1994 Canada Day issue:

Of course, any good trip down the creek wouldn’t be complete without the requisitite curiosities. This time we found a sorely deflated basket ball, a hubcap from an old cadillac, and an old election sign (“Vote for Sandra Lawn!”)… well, if it’s for PC it probably belongs on the bottom of a creek anyhow.

Well, according to the OED, a “charivari” (or “shivaree”) is “a serenade of ‘rough music’, with kettles, pans, tea-trays, and the like, used in France, in mockery and derision of incongruous or unpopular marriages, and of unpopular persons generally; hence a confused, discordant medley of sounds; a babel of noise.”

There are some interesting ruins down along Bolton Road that’ve caught my eye once or twice, and it turns out that they have a bit of history that goes along with ‘em… A ways back, the story goes, the fellow who lived here got himself married. Simple enough, right? Well, he figured that he liked it that way, and decided to just keep quiet about things — no ceremony, no party, no fuss. Well, somehow the folks in the neighbourhood got wind of it, and they thought they’d stop by sometime after dark when the new bride & groom would be getting settled down for the night. You know, kick up a fuss of their own.

I guess things got started off well enough, with some of the fellows hooting and hollering, banging on a few pots and pans, and all of that; the only thing was that the man of the house, after hearing the racket going on outside, decided to come to the door with a shotgun and fire it off into the dark. As you’re probably guessing, somebody got killed. Next day? Well, the unlucky groom got shipped off to jail.

Not sure what happened after that, really. To be honest, I don’t know much about the whole ordeal except for a little bit of hearsay. But there isn’t much left of the old homestead now. Aside from the one corner- section of the exterior wall, there’s a bit of the foundation intact, along with a few beams and sections of the garden wall out back. You know, it’s a nice spot — quiet, nestled in the bend of a small creek.

On a side note: we came across some deer bones nearby, which looked as if they’d been picked clean long ago. Only half the carcass though. Hunters’ work, I suppose.

[N 44^o 54' 32.6", W 75^o 44' 12.9"]

…and possibly for the last time this year, depending on when the snow flies. Anyhow, it was just a short paddle, playing around in the riffles under/around the St. Lawrence street bridge in Bishops Mills. Due to the rain we’ve had lately, water levels were higher than they’ve been in recent memory – but still not deep enough to get a good pull when you’re heading upstream. Of course, navigating the narrow creek’s proto-rapids in the big aluminum canoe (“Old Ironsides”) is a bit of a challenge. A good challenge, though.

Well, the canoe was barely wet when we noticed a small pumpkin floating downstream (“gourd overboard!”). The good news is that it was recovered in one piece, and will be incorporated into some baking later this week; you know how the old saying goes: “out of the creek and into the pie.”

So, as befits a November day with August weather, we took a wander out back – and came across an old disc harrow. See if you can make it out:

As you can see, it’s grown right over with dogwood, grass, and prickly Elm Ash (ouch). It’s nice and ironic, seeing how this implement that was once used to turn the land is now overgrown, practically invisible. Here’s a closer look:

Cause and effect: we spent the afternoon picking burrs out of dog fur. Reading, too (Ben Jonson and an old copy of Men’s Health magazine); it’s funny that men’s preoccupations and sense of humour really haven’t changed much in the past 400 years or so.

On the way home from Kemptville the other day we noticed this old CP Rail caboose. It was the only car in sight, sitting on a spur just off the mainline (which is about four or five tracks’ worth). Thinking it might be worth a look, we pulled over and checked it out.

While the doors at either end of the car are boarded up, the windows are easy enough to climb through. As you might expect, it’s in pretty rough shape inside:

There are a number of cabinets in the car, one of which is pretty much torn out of the wall (left side of picture, blocking sunlight from above). Most are empty, though one (labelled “emergency blankets”) contains a rotten-looking pile of rags. Not much trash laying around — the odd candy wrapper, and a torn page from a girly magazine. Broken glass everywhere, though; looks like the tempered stuff, so it couldn’t really cut you up or anything.

Not sure what that gauge is for, maybe the pressure for the hydraulic system. On the upper deck, there are two remarkably comfortable swivel-type chairs, which afford a commanding view of the abandoned railway car’s surroundings. Seems to me like a good place to sit and imagine the hobo-life, or just watch the sunset. Plus, from up there you can climb out onto the roof…