When someone yells 'Duck!' at Oak Hammock, you don't hunker down

Canoes at Oak Hammock, waiting to be paddled.

Several years ago,  I drove across Canada from B.C., with the Divine Ms. K, literally “passing through” Manitoba on our way to Ontario. We only stopped overnight outside Winnipeg because a torrential downpour made it unsafe to drive.

 

The next day we were up early and gone quickly, rushing to get to Algonquin Park and experience nature during a four-day canoe trip.

While we did enjoy some wonderful encounters there, we had no idea we had been so close to another natural gem: Oak Hammock Marsh.

Having paddled in Algonquin several times, as well as several B.C. locales - including the Queen Charlotte Islands and the world-renowned Bowron Lakes - I’ve had plenty of memorable experiences in nature, seeing songbirds, raptors, and waterfowl in B.C.’s interior, on its islands, and up and down its coast.

Eventually, I did get a chance to visit Oak Hammock - and I was amazed at the variety and diversity of bird life there.

Of course, it helped that I was paddling; there’s no better way to see birds – especially wetland species – than from a canoe.

 

Coot family.

We set out early in the morning to escape the early July heat and give ourselves the best opportunity to see some of the 296 different bird species recorded here.

We were not disappointed. Just minutes into our journey, we spotted an American coot with babies. 

For the next two hours, we paddled through a couple of different wetland cells, spying gulls, terns, blackbirds, and several other species. 

But the highlight came as we paddled quietly toward a small island covered with American white pelicans.

When we came too close for their comfort, it was as if someone pressed a button - they took off en masse, a white cloud of flapping feathers rising up into the sky.

In addition to its wonderful bird-watching opportunities, the area offers something else many destinations I’ve visited do not: an incredibly entertaining and informative interpretive centre. 

With all of its hands-on, youth-friendly exhibits, a family could easily spend an entire day inside, saving the outdoor experiences for another day.

White pelicans hanging out on a small island.

The centre is not only a great spot for birding and environmental education; it acts as the hub for all Ducks Unlimited Canada operations, with its head offices located there.

Originally part of a marsh called St. Andrew’s Bog that covered roughly 47,000 hectares, the end of the 19^th century saw the wetland area reduced to 60 hectares, most of it drained for agriculture.

Ducks Unlimited Canada became interested in restoring part of the wetland habitat as early as the 1930s, but it was not until 1973 that the area was designated as Oak Hammock Marsh Wildlife Management Area. In creating a wetland area of roughly 3600 hectares, DUC and Manitoba Conservation joined forces to build 22 kilometres of earth dikes to help resort the area.

Twenty years later the interpretive centre opened, a year after construction of the building that also houses the DUC national headquarters was completed.

Today, the building and the wetlands stand side-by-side, proud symbols of wetland conservation at its best.

And it’s also a great place to stop and visit – not just drive by on a trip heading east or west.

(A slightly different version of this story appeared in a 2007 issue of Conservator magazine.)

Fall migration at Oak Hammock.

Shooting the clays, shooting the rapids in Laurel Highlands

The title probably makes this sound kind of like an "earth-water" sort of thing, and I guess it is that. But you wouldn't get mud by mixing water with the types of clays I refer to here.

By "shooting clays," I'm referring to the popular activity of "sporting clays."

I had the opportunity to do both in Pennsylvania's Laurel Highlands earlier this week, while a guest of the Seven Springs Mountain Resort.

For those unfamiliar with "sporting clays," try to imagine what it would be like if you combined trap/skeet shooting with golf.

Jamie Ross takes aim under the watchful eye of
NSCA instructor Paul Ankney.

Sporting clays involves using a shotgun to shoot clay "birds" (discs) launched from various locations, at various angles.

What makes this a bit different from skeet or trap shooting is the fact that participants move around from station to station on a set course, via a golf cart, and record how many birds they hit each round. The total gives you your score. (You can find a more detailed explanation of skeet-vs.-trap shooting here.)

I've fired a shotgun only a few times in my life, back when I tried a bit of skeet shooting at a buddy's farm when I was still in high school. I've fired a rifle a few times, even gone hunting occasionally, and I've fired pistols on a target range. Most of my shooting experience is actually in archery, as I was a member of the New Totem Archery Club for a few years when I lived in Fort St. John, B.C.

Bows and arrows are much different from shotguns, though.

Our group of four got some quick instruction from Paul Ankney, an NSCA Level II shooting instructor, then off we went.

After finishing the course, I can tell you I'm glad I don't have to hunt for my dinner every day. There might be a few days when I go hungry.

I was surprised I was actually able to hit one. In my only other previous attempt mentioned above, I'd hit the first one then missed everything else. This time, in our first round of six (two birds launched three times), I hit one of them. Then I hit two the next time. However, I was inconsistent, sometimes hitting only one, other times two, but never more than two out of six birds.

While I certainly didn't shame myself, I didn't get a really high score, either. In fact, I hit less than 50 per cent of the targets offered. But it was a really nice day to spend in the outdoors, I enjoyed some good camaraderie and I had a lot of fun trying a new sport.

TRADING EARTH FOR WATER

Guide Brett Lesnick readies our raft.

The following day, I was more in my element, as I was shooting rapids - something I've done many times - in a whitewater rafting excursion in Ohiopyle State Park with Laurel Highlands River Tours.

We would spend about three hours playing among the class III and IV rapids of the Lower Youghiogheny River.

It was the first time I'd faced whitewater since undergoing shoulder surgery for a labral tear last summer. I'd paddled a few hours on flat water, but this would be a more telling test.

The shoulder did fine. And I had a real blast.

Our guide, Brett Lesnick, made some funny quips (as all good rafting guides do) and made sure we had fun, but with a mind to safety first.

We blasted through several rapids, getting very wet - but if you're not getting wet on a rafting trip, you're just trying hard enough.

We didn't spend the entire time paddling through whitewater; we made a side trip off the river to take a short hike to Cucumber Falls, a smaller version of the 20-foot high Ohiopyle Falls that we put-in just below, to start our day.

When we not hiking or running rapids, we learned about the cultural and natural history of the area and spotted several species of birds - including numerous mergansers, a pair of kingfishers, a pie-billed grebe and a turkey vulture that I'm sure would loved to have seen us pile up on some rocks. Sorry Mr. Vulture - you'll have to eat somewhere else!

Cucumber Falls: a side trips along the way.

After we got off the Yough, a hot lunch awaited us in the park, followed by a quick tour of some of the other highlights of the Ohiopyle, and then a final farewell to the river.

The experiences were very different - but either way, land or water, they were both a good day's shooting.

Urban paddling at its best

Beavers. Herons. Eagles.

Sounds like a great wilderness paddle, doesn't it?

But I saw all these animals while still in view of skyscrapers and major highways, in the midst of Canada's third largest metropolitan area.

Anyone who reads my blog or Facebook posts on a regular basis knows I've been out of commission for more than a year, at least in terms of being able to travel much, and in particular, unable to travel in my favourite mode: paddling a canoe or kayak.

Since undergoing shoulder surgery in mid-June, it's been my goal to rehab and get back paddling ASAP.

It has been a tough row to hoe; at times, my pre-surgery shoulder made it difficult to even pick up one of my pet parrots, who weigh all of a pound.

But that is all starting to change, albeit gradually - and I've even been able to do salvage a bit of the summer and do some actual paddling.

I did push it a bit, but what really made it much easier to finally get back into paddling was a series of programs offered by Metro Vancouver Regional Parks throughout July and August.

The programs involved "urban" canoeing at a couple of different locations: Deas Slough at Deas Island Regional Park and on the lake in Burnaby Lake Regional Park.

Each program takes place three or four times, on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

Deas Slough, looking out to the west.

FIRST STOP: DEAS SLOUGH

This 2-1/2 hour trip took us up what was essentially a backwater of the Fraser River on the south side of the island.

After not paddling for more than two years, I was a bit nervous, apprehensive about how my shoulder would hold up. I had discussed approaches with Nadine Plotnikoff, my physiotherapist from Form Physiotherapy, prior to my paddle, deciding I should only paddle on my left side, to ease the strain on my left shoulder.

Once I got into the canoe and onto the water, I realized doing the J-stroke (as opposed to a basic bow stroke) on the left was actually going to cause an impingement in that shoulder, so I switched sides - and it felt much better. 

And it felt SO good to be paddling again! My soul soared! 

And so did a bald eagle, along the shore, not 15 minutes into our outing. He seemed to follow us along the shore from tree to tree, as we paddled along the north side of the slough. We made several stops along the way to "raft up" and learn aspects of nature and history from our guide-interpreters, including facts about eagles, the ecology of the slough, and its history (including a story about a prohibition-era rum-running boat that legend has still sits at the bottom of the slough.)

For me, the real highlight was just getting out and paddling. But seeing an eagle close-up was also really cool - as was paddling underneath a bridge just south of the Massey Tunnel, a bridge that is part of Highway 99. (If you hike to the far west end of the island, you actually walk over the tunnel).

BURNABY LAKE - EAST

Two days later, we were back in the water, paddling in the Beaver Wetland Paddle in Burnaby Lake. I found it to be a more enjoyable paddle than the Deas Slough, partly because we could see more wildlife, and partly because my concerns about being able to paddle had been put to rest, at least for the time being.

                                                        

So good to be back paddling, again!

It took us from the docks located near the park's Nature House, east along the narrow lake, past beaver lodges, lily pads and forested shores. We paddled as far east as we could, again, with several interpretive stops along the way, before turning back. 

Not only were we treated to a gorgeous sunset, but we saw some herons, ducks - and a beaver! The world's second largest rodent (a South American capybara is the largest) put on quite a show for us, swimming back and forth in front of our still canoes before slapping his tail on the water and diving underneath.

BURNABY LAKE - WEST

This Twilight Canoeing event was a longer paddle, and much of it took place in the rain, five days after we'd been to the east side. We did see many herons, some more ducks - but no beavers, this time (although we did paddle around a large, free-standing beaver lodge and a resident eagle's nest).

Burnaby Lake sunset.

We paddled as far as the bridge over Still Creek, before turning back.

Because of the rain and length of the paddle, my arms were glad when we finally got back to the dock. 

For someone who had only been paddling twice after two years of no paddling, it was a bit of workout!

But like they say, a bad day paddling beats a good day doing anything else. And this was not a bad day - just a wet one.

These are wonderful programs, and a tip of the paddle goes out to Metro Vancouver Parks for offering them.

Another Lower Mainland natural gem discovered

It's a sin we're all guilty of, I think, knowing about a cool place that's close to where we live, a place we keep intending to visit, but somehow never managing to find the time or inclination to make it there.

I guess "sin" is probably too strong a word. But so often if we do eventually make it to such a place, we often mentally flagellate ourselves for not going there sooner.

I had one of those moments this past weekend.

I'd known about the Maplewood Flats Conservation Area for almost as many years as I've lived in Vancouver (nine and counting). It kept popping up on my radar but I never, ever seemed to make it out there. 

The only reason I went out there this time was because plans to visit another natural area fell through the works due to a series of unforeseen events. But, needing a nature fix, I finally decided we should pay a visit to Maplewood.

Greeted by a heron

Within minutes of jumping out of the car, before even getting to the entrance way to the trails, we spotted a great blue heron, sunning on the rocks in a pond by the parking lot. 

Seeing wildlife that soon into an outing as always a good sign, at least as far as I'm concerned.

Managed by the Wild Bird Trust of B.C., Maplewood Flats is a parcel of land in North Vancouver, about 300 acres in size, bordered on the south and east boundaries by the Burrard Inlet. Access is off the Dollarton Highway (south side), just a few kilometres east of the Second Narrows Bridge.

It only took 20 minutes to drive there, right from our front door to the entrance way, so it's very close. Yet once you walk a few minutes into the area, you'd never know you were so close to a large metropolitan area. Mind you, that's just my first impression, and we didn't explore much of the area's 3 km of trails. We basically headed for the one that took us right out to the eastern shore, on Burrard Inlet.

Then the show began.

An osprey looks for supper...

We'd hardly arrived at the mud flats when we looked up and saw an osprey chasing after a bald eagle.  Apparently, the eagle had flown a little too close to the osprey next (there are at least three along there, built on old pilings formerly used to secure log booms.) 

The volunteer greeter had told us there had been a new baby eagle born there this spring, but this was an adult being harassed by the much smaller osprey. This round went to the osprey.

We just sat and soaked up the sunshine, watched a few kayakers paddled across the inlet in the distance and then out of the sky appeared one-two-three more ospreys.

We watched one of them hover high up in the air, scanning the water for fish, then swoosh! splash! It quickly transitioned from practically motionless to jet-like speed to nail what looked like a flounder or some other kind of fish then flew off with its prize, probably to share with its babies.

Birds do it, bees do it...

Sitting in the shade of a small mountain ash, we listened to the water lapping at the shore, enjoyed the scent of the ocean on our nostrils, enjoyed watching the bees buzz around the flowers that dotted the edge of the woods, just luxuriated in the solitude, the peace, the quiet...

Because we'd had a late start, all too soon, it was time to go. But after hearing stories from other visitors about the otter family and the deer that live in Maplewood, we vowed it would not be long before me made a return journey, so we could - to parrot Jewel Akens - spend some more time enjoying "the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees..."

It certainly will not take us another eight years to get here, as it did our first visit...

Reifel not the only place to go for milk and quackers

Anyone following this blog - or (even more noticeably) my Facebook and Twitter posts the last few weeks has probably detected the fact that I've been spending a great deal of time shooting pictures and videos of birds at the Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary.

Reifel is about a 45-minute drive from my house in Vancouver, just over the Knight Street Bridge, down Highway 99 to 17, then over onto Westham Island.

Driving past the farmers' fields to get to the sanctuary means we often drive past grazing cows - in other words, we get "milk" with our "quackers" (i.e., the many ducks that inhabit Reifel.)

However, there is a place even closer to where I live that is also a pretty darn good spot for bird-watching: Burnaby Lake Regional Park. Located in central Burnaby, it is easily accessed from anywhere in the Lower Mainland, with plenty of free parking and transit stops at the east and west ends of the park.


Looking west along Still Creek,
from the bridge that leads to Cottonwood Trail.



While it may not boast the presence of sandhill cranes like Reifel can, Burnaby Lake certainly has its share of mallards, wood ducks, geese and herons - as well as kingfishers and if you're lucky enough to see one, the occasional osprey. It also boasts beavers, and although I've seen the lodges, I have yet to see one of the flat-tailed little tree-munchers - but then I've only been to the park twice.

The park is pretty large, containing tennis facilities, a sports complex, a pool and a rowing pavilion in addition to the natural area around the lake. That includes a nature house and a series of trails, the main one consisting of an  11-km main trail circling the lake.

You can paddle on the lake as well, in a canoe or kayak, which is often one of the best ways to get close to wildlife - as well as the best way to see much of the lake. While the trail does provide a nice walk, for much of the walk, you can't actually see the lake itself.

Traversing it by canoe or kayak eliminates that problem. There is a public canoe launch at the sports complex, although - to my knowledge - there is no place there for the public to rent boats.

I first visited the park back in July of 1988 during a quick visit to a friend who lived in Vancouver at the time (I was living in Alberta, then). We only spent about an hour in the park.

Bath time for ducks!

It would be 23 years before I'd return again - this time for an entire day.

The day's highlight took place at Piper Spit, a bit of land that juts out into the lake from the north shore, about two-thirds of the way down the trail from the sports complex parking lot and trail head in the west end. A boardwalk allows further access out to view the lake.


Map of Burnaby Lake trails.

 

But you don't have to out there to see plenty of birds. Sitting on one of the benches on the land just before the start of the boardwalk, you'll see plenty of ducks and geese cruising up and down Eagle Creek, which empties into the lake. And of course, the real entertaining part comes when they take a bath.

While eating lunch on the bench, I also spied a northern flicker, sitting in a tree off in the distance, a fairly common bird in the area during the fall. Later on, from the end of the boardwalk, I watched a heron fish for his lunch.

Not far away from the spit is a raised viewing tower, two stories tall and wheelchair friendly, that provides you with a more expansive view.

Of course, I always contend the best view is the view from the water - and I'm already planning next year's paddle trip on the lake ...

 

(If you want to see more pictures from the lake, check out my Facebook photo album at

Birds love riparian precincts of Burnaby Lake Regional Park )

Reifel offers sanctuary for birds - and people looking to escape the city

"Quack!"

"Honk!"

"Oka-dee!"

No, those aren't new sound effects for comics that feature waterfowl as superheroes. Although they could be, I guess...(Darkwing Duck, move over!)

Those are the sounds that constantly surround you when you visit the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary just outside Ladner, B.C. Just take a half-hour's drive from the Vancouver International Airport, and you'll find yourself in a wetland paradise full of ducks, geese, cranes, and herons - not to mention songbirds like red-winged blackbirds or raptors like bald eagles or marsh hawks (a.k.a. northern harriers).



Bald eagle soars over our heads.

I won't go into too much detail about the sanctuary itself, its history and its functions; that can all be gleaned from the sanctuary website .

I will say that although it is a stopping place for birds migrating north and south in the spring and fall, respectively - an avian "motel" of sorts - it is also a year-round home for many other birds.

Reifel is one of those rare spots you can visit again and again, and never tire of going there. It's a special place where you can get close to nature without having to drive too far from your front step, if you live in the Greater Vancouver area. The experiences there are pretty much the same every time, but for me, there's always one gem of an experience I have that's a bit different each time, something that sets that visit apart from others.

For example, when I was there last Monday, I saw a great blue heron fly across a pond and alight on a log right in front of me. It then proceeded to spend several minutes grooming itself while I shot videos and images of the bird.

Another time, I was able to watch and record a pair of sandhill cranes strolling along the edge of the marsh. You won't see these large, rare and beautiful birds every time you go to Reifel, but I have seen them on more than one occasion.

Of course, you'll never lack company if you take the time to spend a few toonies and purchase the bags of seed ($1 each) they sell at the admission gate for people to feed the ducks and geese in the sanctuary. (That's the only food people are allowed to feed them, so be forewarned). Be prepared for a stampede, though - if you start sprinkling too close to where you're sitting or standing, you'll quickly be swamped by ducks (no pun intended, but if it works, hey...).

A quick word of caution: remember, these are wild animals - they're not pets, nor is this a zoo, so if you do go and you do feed them, keep that in mind, also.



Great blue heron gets ready to groom.



As I sit there on a bench, emptying the last few bits of seed from my paper bag, I look out at the various marshes and ponds, separated by the earthen dikes that form the trail system within the sanctuary and wistfully wish I could hop in a canoe and go paddling through the area's waterways.

Alas, that's not one of the activities visitors are allowed to participate in.
So as much as I'd love to hear the sound of a paddle dipping into Reifel's waters, I guess I'll just have to settle for walking the trails and hearing the sounds of "Quack-Honk-Oka-dee!"