Northwest Passage

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.

Friday was cold, at least until you broke into a run. Taking a breather at the top of an embankment, and peering down to a creek recently freed from its covering of snow and ice, we were joined by a Chickadee.

It alighted on a nearby tree, curious, considering us. It then moved to a closer tree, still inquisitive, about a metre away, before making its way straight for me. A brazen flight, to end perhaps on my head, or shoulder, had I not retreated, and the bird then done the same. It returned to its previous perch, and then flew away.

When animals lose their fear of humans, I’m told, it can be a sign of desperation. The small bird certainly looked rougher than some I’ve seen recently. Naturally, then, I imagine it to be starving. Reason lends credence to the idea; the remaining snow cover makes foraging difficult at this time of year, and the few bird-feeders upon which these Chickadees might depend are probably not as richly stocked this year, due to deep drifts and ice that makes refilling them a chore. Certainly that was a hungry Chickadee.

We returned home, only to head out again, this time with toasted sunflower seeds, a few slices of twelve-grain bread. Soon we reached the same hillside.

“Make that chickadee sound, Ror,” Jennie said.

“What sound?”

“That one you made.”

Helpless — and no doubt ridiculous — chirpings went unanswered. Brisk winds made it hard to whistle. And so we waited, palms upturned and extended. A beggar’s gesture, though it is we who would give. The winds persisted, and no birds came.

A grim hypothesis: “Maybe it already starved to death.”

“I thought that too.”

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Northwest Passage

BB#4: Perigee Moon

Britannia Baywatch #3

Britannia Baywatch #2

Britannia Baywatch #1

Spring Runoff

Fear the Cat

Way Back When

Mugged by a Chickadee

Hello!

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