World Wetlands Day: time to save a duck, a gator, your drinking water...

Another busy day at Reifel.

"When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place, a sanctum sanctorum…"
- Henry David Thoreau

Today is World Wetlands Day. (Yeah, it's Groundhog Day too - but he already gets enough publicity.)

In case you're not quite sure what a wetland is, according to the US EPA, it is: "... areas where water covers the soil, or is present either at or near the surface of the soil all year or for varying periods of time during the year, including during the growing season."

Still not sure about the value of wetlands? Well, they:

• act as natural sponges
• filter pollutants, helping provide clean drinking water
• absorb rainfall, reducing floods and droughts
• reduce the speed and height of storm surges
• provide food and habitat for huge variety of birds and wildlife
• provide a lace for recreation and reflection

I've visited a number of wetlands around North America. Three of my favourites are located in three very different environments.

REIFEL SANCTUARY

One of my favourite places to hang out near my Vancouver home is the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary just outside Ladner, B.C. It's part of a coastal wetland jutting onto the ocean in places, and just a half-hour's drive from the Vancouver International Airport. There 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).

 

Black crowned night heron.

 

 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.  

 

Once 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.

 

 

A blue heron grooms at Reifel.

 

I saw my first  black-crowned night heron there; also, my first northern shoveller, my first bufflehead, my first...well, you get the idea.

 

It's a great place to take kids, too, and get them to experience and enjoy nature.

OAK HAMMOCK MARSH

Oak Hammock is a prairie wetland located, in southern Manitoba near Winnipeg. I spent a day there several years ago 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.

 

The Coot family.

A total of  296 different bird species have been recorded there. While I certainly did not approach that number, I was not disappointed. Just minutes into our journey, we spotted an American coot with babies. 

During my day's paddle, I spied gulls, terns, blackbirds, and several other species. 

 

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.

 

OKEFENOKEE NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE

Just north of the Florida panhandle in southern Georgia, in the middle of a wild, wet southern wilderness, sits this gem locals call simply, "The Swamp." 

I once spent three days canoeing and camping in this wonderful reserve with Okefenokee Adventures, the go-to adventure tour operator for the area. Our guide was very knowledgeable about the natural and cultural history of the area.

Like the other two spots described above, it's a great place for birds. While there exploring it, I saw a sandhill crane, several egrets and a green heron.

You'll see plenty of gators in "The Swamp."

Because it's so not as close to an urban centre as the other two, it boasts a far wider variety of wildlife in including deer, black bears and its iconic reptile: the American alligator.

I saw many of them, and a few deer, but no bears.
 
It's a wonderful place for a naturalist to hang out, and like Oak Hammock, it's only accessible by canoe. 

The point to all this? 

Without wetlands, none of these creatures would have homes. And surely that's reason enough to be concerned and to practice wetland conservation by supporting groups that focus on conserving wetlands, where it's a big national organization like Ducks Unlimited or a smaller local group like the Reifel Sanctuary or the Burns Bog Conservation Society. 

Then go out and enjoy a wetland.

Autumn: how do I love thee...?

... let me count the ways.

I've often mentioned that September and October are my favorite months of the year. Fall is definitely my favourite season. But why is that? 

Fall paddling along the Rideau.

As October comes to a close, here are some of the reasons for loving this season, from an outdoors/travel perspective.

1. I love the fall colours. Granted, we don't get them in B.C. like I did growing up back east in Ontario or going to university in New Brunswick, but we get a bit of colour. 

Of course, if you want to experience those colours, that's a great reason to visit a place like Lanark County, Ontario and enjoy some of the wonderful experiences just waiting for you - and while you're enjoying them, you can take in the fall beauty.

2. Usually until the last week or so, the days are still warm, but not too warm - and the nights are wonderfully cool.

3. It's cool enough to use the fireplaces in any building in which you're ensconced.

4. It's still warm enough to go canoeing or kayaking comfortably. (Mind you, is it ever too cold? I once did a three-day canoe trip in north central Saskatchewan in October, with bits of snow falling the first day!)

Paddling into the fall.

5. While it's still warm, all the bugs are gone, for the most part.

6. Kids are back in school, so it's not as busy at recreational areas like parks, pools, lakes, etc., at least not during the week.

7. There are no goofy holidays that have emotional meanings attached to them (Christmas, Easter), causing family around the country to pressure you to "spend quality time" with them, even if it costs an arm and a leg to fly there.

8. Although it's warm, it's probably cool enough to justify "adding a nip" of something to your coffee or hot chocolate to give it extra warmth.

Trumpeter swans winging their way south.

9. It's an amazing time of the year for watching migrations of wild birds. Some spectacular displays of birds like snow geese are there for the watching.

The best place to see these flights of fowl is at a nearby bird sanctuary, like George C. Reifel in Ladner, B.C. or Cape Tourmente, near Quebec City. 

Check your area, you're sure to find not too far away.


10. Did I mention the colours?

What are some of your favourite reasons to love travel and the outdoors in the fall?

Island magic never seems to disappoint

How much fruit can an orangutan eat?

So I'm headed off to Vancouver Island for a short
two-day trip today (Thursday) in the Comox area. I hope to see some seals, whales, maybe a dolphin or two, and definitely some sea-going birds (no sea parrots - a.k.a., puffins - on this trip though!) with Vancouver Island Marine Tours and Adventures.

It's certainly not my first trip to the island, and certainly won't be my last.

Thinking about it got me thinking about all the incredible island destinations I've visited. Of course, I just got back from one last week, and I'm wondering why it took me so long to visit Cape Breton Island. Nova Scotia hospitality always seems to shine, and that trip was no exception.

While I've been to many of the "must-do" islands, I've also been to some less renowned islands. But it doesn't seem to matter which category of island I'm on, as they always seem to produce a magical trip with memorable experiences.

So, without further ado, here's my Top List of Island Experiences I've enjoyed through the years, in no particular order.

1. Borneo: hanging out with primates. During a trip to the Malaysian part of the island, I visited not one, but two orangutan sanctuaries, facilities set up to act as a halfway house for re-introducing captive primates back to the wild.

Then I also saw not one, but two completely wild orangutans while cruising up and down the Kinabatangan River on wildlife safaris. While on the island, I also had the chance to see proboscis monkeys along that river as well as at Bako National Park.

2. Hawaii: swimming with sharks, diving with dolphins. In a two week trip to Hawaii, I was able to climb into the shark tank at the Maui Ocean Center and scuba dive with sharks, rays, and some other fish for about an hour. Really cool experience.

Then a week later on the Big Island, I went on an excursion out onto the Pacific Ocean and snorkeled with a pod of wild spinner dolphins. Equally cool.


Let's go hang out with the sharks.

3. Belize: cay-hopping and snorkeling. While this is not an island country, there are plenty of cays along its coast, and my first international trip of any kind (outside of Canada or the USA) involved a five-day paddle out to the barrier reef, camping on various cays along the way. It was also my first time kayaking (I'd been only a canoeist prior to that) and my first time snorkeling. Still one of my best snorkeling experiences anywhere.

Spotted this happy-looking parrot on the Mastic Trail.

4. Cayman Islands: parrot-spotting in the rainforests. There is plenty to do in the water in the Caymans, but also plenty of cool stuff to do on land, especially if you like birds. I got to see a flock of Grand Cayman parrots on the main island's Mastic Trail, then saw a few mated pairs of the very rare Cayman Brac parrots in the forests of the island those birds are named after.

5. Cape Breton Island: puffin tour. There is much more to do on Cape Breton than eating lobster (although it is scrumptious!) One of the main highlights of my tour there was being able to see puffins on Bird Island, with Donelda's Puffin Tours. There were plenty of other birds to see there, as well, but seeing puffins really made my trip.

6. Canary Islands: seeing the rarest of all parrots. During attendance at the 2006 Loro Parque International Parrot Convention, I had the opportunity to tour the private aviary and saw several pairs of Spix's macaws. Up until recently, they were extinct in the wild, and Loro Parque is working to make sure they don't disappear completely. For those unfamiliar, this the species that inspired the Disney movie, Rio.

7. Quadra Island: canoeing the ocean. A small island off the east coast of Vancouver Island near Campbell River, I've visited this island twice. During my visits, I had a chance to canoe in and around Heriot Bay, spotting eagles on the island where we lunched and plenty of seals on the rocks nearby. Oh, and plenty of jellyfish (the kind you want to avoid) floating around on the ocean.

Sunset in the Ten Thousand Islands.

8. Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park, Florida: kayaking in the 'Glades. This series of mangrove islands on the southwest Florida coast are not what most people picture when they think of the Everglades. Located on the Gulf of Mexico, it was more like cay-hopping in Belize, than swamp paddling (which I've also done.) What did we see? What didn't we see, would be more appropriate. We saw ospreys battling overhead, dolphins swimming under our kayaks, sea turtles, egrets, herons, raccoons. Great trip.

9. Vancouver Island: falconer for a day. One of my favourite experiences on Vancouver Island was spent learning about falconry with Pacific Northwest Raptors. And it was all hands-on, working with the birds, experience. We got to walk with them, then fly them, just a wonderful way to spend a day.

10. Joe Island, Joe Lake, Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario: canoeing. Another of the "lesser-known" islands (unless you happen to be a regular park paddler) it marked either the start or finish of many a multi-day canoe trip in the park. It created many fond memories that I still treasure - including the time we awoke to find a raccoon unzipping our tent door because it smelled food inside the tent! Glad it wasn't a bear...

Of course, there are some honourable mentions that didn't quite crack the Top 10:

• Spirit Island in Maligne Lake, Jasper National Park, Canada (you can't actually camp there or even land on the island, but it's an inconic Canadian image)
• Grand Manan Island, New Brunswick (kayaking and hiking adventures)
• numerous other unnamed islands in Algonquin Provincial Park

So...what are some of YOUR favourite island experiences? Please let us know in the comments.

More proof that Vancouver really is for the birds

I spent much of my weekend this past week involved in birding activities.

I spotted this spotted towhee during my "big day" count.

Yeah, I know. That's not really anything new. I spend a lot of my free time birding, or taking adventures that involve some element of seeing or watching wild birds (when I'm not paddling...and the two often intertwine).

However... this time, my activity included my own personal involvement in one of the many events taking place as part of the 2016 Vancouver Bird Week.

This event has been taking place for four years now, and offers activities for all who are interested in birds, whether it's a casual interest, an avid passion, or anywhere in between.

The event has a theme and an official "city bird." This year, the peregrine falcon was the official bird of Vancouver Bird Week. The theme was "Birds in Our Garden."

I first heard of this annual celebration last year, just after it had wrapped up, via social media. This year, I was a bit more prepared, but still was not able to take part in as many activities as I would liked to have done.

The events ran from May 7 to 14, and included bird photography classes (outdoors, of course), guided bird walks in many of the Vancouver city parks and some regional parks in the Metro Vancouver area, birding for beginners workshops, a movie, a book launch, a special birding tour of Howe Sound, and a "big day" of birding, on May 14, which just happened to be International Migratory Bird Day. To take part in this,  participants went out and about, in and around Vancouver and tallied all the different bird species they saw.

 Mallard ducklings on Avalon Pond in Everett Crowley Park, Vancouver.

These tallies were then presented in the Vancouver Public Library's central branch Alice MacKay Room, at the Bird Week Finale ... which also marked the launch of a new book - or rather, a revised edition of The Birder's Guide to Vancouver and the Lower Mainland, produced by Nature Vancouver.

Following some speeches and presentations, there were several draws for prizes that included books, bird-friendly coffee, wine, cloth tote bags, and a spotting scope donated very generously by Bird Studies Canada.

Some nice draw prizes were handed out at the finale.

But wait - there's more...

This isn't news, but more of a reminder.

Rob Butler - the man who led the sea safari in Howe Sound - talked about how Vancouver will host the 2018 International Ornithological Congress.

This is a huge "feather in the cap" (pun intended!) not only for the birders here but for the entire city. Vancouver outbid everyone else for this event, which only takes place once every two years. Tokyo was the host this year.

The next one will take place in the summer of 2018.

Before that, though, there will be Vancouver Bird Week, 2017 to look forward to.

Next year, I plan to be much more involved. Because I really do believe Vancouver is for the birds. And that's a good thing.

A reminder of how soul-restoring a simple walk can be

Avalon Pond, Everett Crowley Park.

So I'm sitting at home, looking out the window at the birds flitting about at the numerous feeders in 
our yard, with two of our three parrots sitting on me...at the same time, I'm scrolling through the Facebook newsfeed on my iPhone.

I come upon a post in a group I belong to, "The Best Reasons for You to Walk in a Park," by Erin Acton. Now it turns out Wednesday was "National Take a Walk in a Park Day" (yes, there is such a day, I looked it up, there are plenty of websites dedicated to the topic.) I start reading the blog post, watching her video, and it start to resonate with me.

I'd been having a bad week, no, make that a bad week-and-a-half up to that point, one of those weeks where nothing seems to work or go one's way. It was starting to get depressing. But Erin's well-sourced suggestions about how a walk in nature, getting out in nature, can really help alleviate stress, struck a chord in me.

Not that I didn't know that already, but it's like I needed a nudge, a reminder, that taking a few hours out of the day to go for a walk, aside from the physical health benefits, offers larger benefits for the soul.

It's like I forgot what Henry David Thoreau wrote in his treatise, "Walking" on the matter:

“I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day, at least... sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements."

Thoreau and Emerson had it right.

Again, it's not like I was re-inventing the wheel; I just had to decided enough was enough, I needed to get out and get some fresh air, a bit of exercise (which I'd been neglecting the past several days for a variety of reasons), and commune with nature, albeit in an urban setting.

So I packed up my camera and tripod, and headed off to Everett Crowley Park, a 40-hectare park barely a five-minute drive from where I live, less than 500 metres from busy SE Marine Drive in Vancouver. I've been there before, but hadn't visited since 2008.

It has changed a little; there is an additional trail that has been cut, parallel to an existing one. One of the things I do remember is a lookout along the Vista Trail, which provides a view of the Fraser River, less than a kilometre to the south. When I was last there eight or nine years ago, that portion of the river was all trees and other greenery; it's now all buildings and development along the shoreline. A bit sad, since I don't necessarily agree that's "progress." So far, the walk wasn't really lifting my spirits as I'd hoped it might.

But, I persisted on and a few minutes later down the trail, the magic of nature started to re-emerge.

I heard a woodpecker hammering away on a tree nearby. I located it, high overhead. Then I heard a chirping in the brush near the trail, the unmistakable sound of a hummingbird. Never managed to spot it, though.

Then still higher overhead, a hawk glided by, returning in the opposite direction a few minutes later.

Further along the trail, off to the left about 30 metres away sat a hawk on a tree branch. Of course, the bird flew away before I could get set up to shoot some photos, but it was still magical.

Eventually, I made my way over to Avalon Pond at the northeast corner of the park. There were always ducks there - usually mallards - and I'd even seen a heron there, once, high up in a tree.

The mallards were there...and so were a pair of mated buffleheads.

A male bufflehead patrols the pond.

Buffleheads are really cool diving ducks. Smaller than mallards and very unique looking. Plus, it's just a cool word to say - "bufflehead."

 Try it. Say it out loud a few times. It almost sounds like the kind of insulting name Bugs Bunny would call Daffy Duck in the old Loony Tunes cartoons.

But it's not - it's the common name for Bucephala albeola. A friend of mine calls them "saddle shoe ducks," which gives you an idea of what they look like, if you didn't already know.

Anyway, I tried shooting some photos and video from a trail that ran alongside the pond, then found a spot at one end where I could sit down a log, set up my tripod in an easy-access position and took the better part of an hour watching them swim and dive back and forth among the mallards. I even got a few good shots.

The mallards always seem friendly at Avalon.

Letting go, breathing - really breathing - I could feel a sense of peace and perspective start to take root in my being. I noticed some of the songbirds flitting about in the bushes around me. I spotted several hummingbirds and out of the corner of my eye a larger bird dodging about in the hardwoods 50 yards away (maybe a pileated woodpecker?)

That two hours I spent did wonders for me - other responsibilities kept me from a four-hour sojourn as Dr. Thoreau prescribed - got me back on the rail properly, which I was in danger of falling off (and with the fall, could a potential train-wreck be far off?)

Walking back to my car, doing some shopping for groceries, talking with people I met - it all just seemed better, following my walk.

While I enjoy watching the visitors to the birdfeeders in our yard immensely, sometimes a walk rewards one with different kinds of benefits. I resolved not to let it get to this point again, to take time to re-connect with nature via a walk in the woods, not just from my living room window.

And next time, I don't think I'll wait another eight years to go back to that little park that can offer such a balm for my soul.

Trail map for Everett Crowley Park.

New film provides a look at our birds and their journeys

What is the future for songbirds like chickadees?

I had the opportunity this past week to see an amazing new film, a documentary about birds. The film was called The Messenger.

Now the reason it was called that is mentioned in the film's beginning and reiterated once or twice as throughout the film.

It goes back to the fact that ancient peoples viewed birds as messengers - messengers from the gods, messengers from the other side, messages from the spirit world - and it is the film's premise that they are still messengers today - and the message they have for us is one about our own future.

The film delves into several issues migratory songbirds face in our modern world; one of them is the way that they can get disoriented by the light that we as humans create in our cities. It shows how, in cities like New York and Toronto, our night-time lights can really produce a negative impact on their migrations up and down the coast from north to south and back again.

Connected with that is the way thousands of birds kill themselves flying into our city's high-rise buildings. This issue resulted in the birth of the organization FLAP as a response to it.

Another issue facing songbirds is the hunting of them for food.

That's right - food.

In France, there is a huge controversy right now about how the centuries-old tradition of hunting ortolans for food. The film actually interviewed one of the hunters, as well as some folks dedicated to stopping the practice. Although it is now illegal, French authorities, by-and-large, look the other way.

The film also looked at other issues facing birds, a big one being pesticides - including the 21st century production of grains which have pesticides built right into them by seed manufacturers.

The movie also documents the way our industrial development - the need to drill for oil, most noticeably - and how it can affect the bird population in the boreal forest.

The film takes us all over the world - from the Eastern Seaboard of North America, to the jungles of Costa Rica, the fields of France, the prairies of Saskatchewan, and the boreal forests of Alberta, to name but a few destinations.

It's a journey, a trip around the world, to see what it is these birds are facing - and what they, as messengers, are trying to tell us.

Female red-winged blackbird. Will their songs be silent soon?

Birds are incredibly adaptable, probably more so than mammals. Despite that, they are suffering. We're changing the environment so fast now, faster than birds can cope with it.

And while this does not bode well for them, it also has ramifications for us.

As one of the people interviewed in the film says, "Songbirds are really like the canary in the coal mine ... they are telling us something is wrong, something is happening on the planet that is not good."

That's why organizations like FLAP and Bird Studies Canada work so hard to try to figure everything out so we can make changes - for the birds...and for our own future.

The film is directed by Su Rynard. Not a scientist, not even a birder, really, she did a masterful job in bringing this film together. The cinematography is absolutely gorgeous ... breath-taking beauty radiates from the screen. Probably why it's won so many awards.

Those of us who attended the movie were fortunate enough to "meet" and chat with her via Skype on the big theatre screen. Ah, technology. (Ironically, while technology can help us enjoy these types of experiences, it can also harm, as the movie points out.)

It played very briefly last Sunday, March 20 in Vancouver, at the Rio Theatre, one show and one day only. But it will be back again in May, for a showing May 9, again, at the Rio. Their website has information about other venues hosting it, and plans are in the works to

In the meantime, enjoy some of the marvelous footage in this trailer.

Tuco: it's about an African grey parrot, but also much more

Usually, I write about travel in this space, although that does encompass a broad spectrum of sub-genres.

Today, I'm reviewing a book. Tuco is not a travel book, although the author, Brian Brett, does describe some of his travels in places like British Columbia, Mexico, Thailand, and other destinations in the book.

At some point, paddling is mentioned in the book, although not in a big way.

It's also not a book about the third of the three protagonists in the Sergio Leone 1967 spaghetti western, "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly," played with panache by Eli Wallach. (Although as the author reveals, there is a connection with the movie.)

The book is about the author's relationship with his African grey parrot. It is an excellent read, and you don't have to have lived with a parrot to appreciate it. While Brett's relationship with his African grey is an important part of the book, it's also a springboard for much deeper conversations about the world we live in and the way we relate to it.

Subtitled, The Parrot, the Others and a Scattershot World, A Life with Birds, Brett delves into his relationship not just with Tuco, but with other birds and the world at large. The book actually is a third version of a three-set volume that is a memoir of his life and its struggles, paralleled by the struggles humankind has in the world, struggles to accept others as they are, struggles to prosper without destroying the world - a "scattershot" world as Brett views it - and how they are both reflected in this out-of-place bird's life.

I say out of place, because Brett views Tuco as an "other" of sorts. He himself was an "other," an outsider growing up, because of being born with Kallman syndrome (a condition that causes a form of androgyny) that created huge issues for him as he entered puberty and grew into young adulthood. "Othering" is what we all do to various degrees to anything we see as strange or different. It's othering that often mutates into bullying, something Brett put up with frequently while growing up in British Columbia.

We "other" birds, animals, people of different religions, races, sexual orientations - the list is almost endless.

An African grey parrot, at Bloedel Conservatory.

The theme of othering crops up many times in the narrative as Brett weaves his way through a tapestry of topics that include science, environmentalism, animal cruelty, bird-watching, travel, small-town politics, his early experiences with pet birds, and life with an African grey parrot.

It's all enjoyable to read, but as someone who has spent close to a quarter-century living with African grey parrots, those anecdotes about Tuco's antics were the most enjoyable, the parts I re-read over and over again, sometimes aloud to anyone who would listen (or anyone who would read the passages I posted on my Facebook page regularly while reading the book.) And there were so many of them that reflect and almost eerily parallel the experiences I've had with my greys. For example:

"When a joke is told in our house, Tuco is always the first to laugh, chiming in milliseconds before anyone else. Does he get the joke? Probably not. What he does is even smarter. ... For Tuco, the crucial factor in a joke is not the joke but the way it makes us behave. He measures the speaker's tone and recognizes it's a joke, not a drama or narration of events. Then, if he is in the room, assessing the speaker's inflections and body language, he can anticipate the timing of the punchline faster than any person can, and that's why he always beats us to the laugh."

That happens all the time in our house with my 15-year-old grey, Coco. 

The book is full of passages like that, stories that will have anyone who lives with parrots smiling, and perhaps even chuckling out loud.

Even those who do not live with parrots will find them humorous - and perhaps a bit hard to believe. But believe me, all the stuff he describes in the book about Tuco's behaviour is real. Most parrot keepers have experienced even more bizarre or outrageous behaviours by their feathered companions.

Tuco is one of the rare books that both entertains and informs. It also stimulates thought and introspection about how we view life, how we might deal with some of the issues described in the book.

The author does reach some conclusions, of sorts, and while I won't tell you what they are, some of what I read still percolates around my coffeepot of a brain, occasionally seeping out through its filters into my conscious. 

If you want to read a book that is just silly parrot stories, you might be disappointed. However, if you want to read a book full of those that also deals with some much more serious life issues - like bullying, environmentalism, or dealing with death - then this is a read for you.
 


African grey parrots in the wild. From the World Parrot Trust.

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.