First Visit to the Cape

The first spring visit to Cape St. Mary's always reminds me what a wonderful and varied place this is. Known primarily as a nesting site for thousands of northern gannets, it also provides a feeding ground for bald eagles and ravens, typical habitat for savannah sparrows and horned larks, and forms part of the range of the southern Avalon caribou herd.

I arrived in the early morning and started down the trail from the visitor centre; visible even from this distance, a juvenile bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) was circling high above the cove, the sun highlighting its mottled colours.

Another few minutes of walking brought me to the main point near Bird Rock, the centre of the gannet (Morus bassanus) nesting area.  This point overlooks the rock, and in another month it will be possible to spot the first of the year's chicks, guarded by their protective parents. Now, though, it's only adult birds that are visible, soaring overheard or returning to the nesting sites with seaweed or twine for nest repairs.

Returning along the trail, I heard the unmistakable trill of a savannah sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis) from just ahead. There it was, perched on one of the stakes that mark the trail.

The day's real treat, though, came in the form of a handful of caribou (Rangifer tarandus) trotting across the Eastern Hyper-oceanic Barrens. They were a hundred metres away, and seemed unconcerned at my presence. They'll soon begin to shed their pale winter coats, taking on a darker, sleeker look for summer. It will be fascinating to watch the changes that take place here at the Cape between now and October.

The Advent of Spring

 Spring seems to be taking its own sweet time arriving this year; the early signs, like crocuses, appear then suddenly disappear under a drift of snow. Warm weather creeps in, the sun makes its presence known, then an icy breeze whips through the trees and we're back in what feels like the dead of winter. Last weekend, though, was one of those brief, enticing tastes of spring and the open road called.  In this case it was a very seldom-used road, one that was constructed to serve a Yarmouth County tin mine in the mid 1980s. The mine, when operating, was the largest primary tin mine in North America; the paved surface of the access road is deeply rutted from the weight of the ore-laden trucks that travelled it regularly, and the countryside is typical southwestern Nova Scotia: mixed hardwood and softwood, with occasional barrens and numerous rocky streams.

At the western end of this road, near Yarmouth, NS, the road crosses a tributary of the Tusket River, flowing through dense Acadian mixed forest. The water flows slowly, forming deep, still pools where trout tempt the angler -- the spring season has just opened and there are plenty of fishermen trying their luck.

A little farther west, near where Nova Scotia Route 203 intersects with Route 340, lies the town of Kempville, the site of one of many small-scale maple sugar operations.  Early spring sees sap buckets hanging from maple trees all over the region; although Nova Scotia's principal maple production is found well to the north of here, these operators manage to produce a small quantity of syrup each year, much sought-after locally. The buckets are a sure sign that elusive as it might be, spring is definitely on the way!

Weather Signs

In Atlantic Canada, many of us live our lives with an eye turned to the sky. The weather isn't just something that we can ignore, and it doesn't just serve as fodder for a cable channel, it's a living, breathing part of our everyday life. Hurricanes roll up the east coast of North America in late summer and early autumn and strike with varying degrees of force, uprooting trees and creating flooding; winter storms sometimes strike with just as much force, bringing swirling snow instead of driving rain. Just as quickly, though, the sky can clear as a cold front pushes through, turning the heavens to clear, sparkling blue.

The rippling cloud patterns of a "mackerel sky" usually presage a significant change in the weather.

Nor'easters are warm winter storms that bring with them loads of heavy, wet snow that clings to every surface, no matter how unaccommodating.

Sun pillars light up the sky at sunrise and sunset when conditions are just right, creating a brilliant beacon.

Weather.  We watch it, we talk about it, we grumble when it's bad and take great delight when it's good, and we milk every ounce out of summer but breaking out the summer clothes when the first warm breezes blow and refusing to put them away until the snow flies.  Our very best weather advice if you're headed our way is, prepare to dress in layers, and always carry a jacket -- in case!

Iceberg Season Drifts Into View

April, May and June are prime iceberg-watching season in Newfoundland and Labrador,since this is the time of year when these northern giants drift south on the Labrador current after spending the winter frozen into the sea ice.  They'll gradually break free as the ice begins to break up, and move with the current to the shores of Labrador and then the island of Newfoundland. Their pace is slow and stately, befitting to the offspring of glaciers, and like most youngsters they move much more quickly than their parents. They move at the speed of the current, getting the occasional boost from favourable breezes if the berg is tall enough to act as a sail. They come in all shapes and sizes, from growlers the size of a cottage to massive,

floating islands of ice like those that calved from Greenland's Petermann Glacier in 2010 and 2012. They heave into view in the distance and inch to the south each day, but changes in wind direction can play tricks: one berg that had grounded on the south side of Bay Bulls (near St. John's) last spring suddenly freed itself drifted out of sight to the north before abruptly changing direction and moving south, ending up in Ferryland by the next morning. Bergs are often at their most spectacular as they begin to break up; the centre of gravity shifts as a result of erosion from sun, wind and water, and suddenly the massive weight of the berg can no longer support itself and a huge section will crack off, or the entire berg will roll and chunks of ice will fly in arcs to the water. It's important to treat these ice giants with respect, but they can certainly provide some wonderful viewing opportunities.

Courage and Patience and Grit

Songwriter Mark Walker was born in Tickle Cove, Bonavista Bay, Newfoundland, in 1846. A fisherman who also served as the first postmaster in the community of Sweet Bay, Walker penned several of modern-day Newfoundland and Labrador's favourite songs, among them "Fanny's Harbour Bawn", "The Girls of Sweet Bay", "The Antis of Plate Cove" (about the forces that opposed Confederation with Canada), and "Down by Jim Long's Stage", but perhaps his best-known and most-beloved song was "Tickle Cove Pond", a song that tells the tale of an incident that took place in Tickle Cove in the spring of the year.  It was first recorded by Canadian folksinger Allan Mills in 1963. To listen to a recording of the song performed by Jesse Ferguson, click here. The lyrics follow. 

In cuttin' and haulin', in frost and in snow

We're up against troubles that few people know

And it's only by courage and patience and grit

And eatin' plain food that we keep ourselves fit

The hard and the easy we take as it comes

And when ponds freeze over we shorten our runs

To hurry my haulin' with spring coming on

Near lost me a mare out on Tickle Cove Pond

Chorus:

Lay hold William Over, lay hold William White

Lay hold of the cordage and pull all your might

Lay hold of the bowline and pull all you can

And give me a lift with poor Kit on the pond

I knew that the ice became weaker each day

But still took the risk and kept haulin' away

One evening in April bound home with a load

The mare showed some halting against the ice road

She knew more than I did as matters turned out

And lucky for me had I joined her in doubt

She turned round her head, with tears in her eyes

As if she were sayin', "You're riskin' our lives"

All this I ignored with a whip handle blow

For man is too stupid; dumb creatures to know

The very next moment the pond gave a sigh

And down to our necks went poor Kitty and I

Chorus

For if I had taken wise Kitty's advice

I never would take the shortcut on the ice

Poor creature she's dead; poor creature she's gone

I'll ne'er get my mare out of Tickle Cove Pond

Chorus

So I raised an alarm you could hear for a mile

And neighbours turned up in a very short while

You can always rely on the Overs* and Whites

To render assistance in all your bad plights

To help a poor neighbour is part of their lives

The same I can say for their children and wives

When a bowline was fastened around the mare's breast

William White for a shanty song made a request

There was no time for thinkin', no time for delay

Straight from his head came this song right away

Chorus Final

Lay hold William Over, lay hold William W

Lay hold of the cordage and pull all your might

Lay hold of the bowline and pull all you can

And with that we brought Kit out of Tickle Cove Pond

 

*It seems the surname Oldford, often associated with this song, is not one of long standing in Tickle Cove.  The name Over, originally Ovier, was referred to in the song when it was penned by Walker.  Reference.

In an Echo of Winter, a Sign of Spring

Spring comes slowly to Newfoundland and Labrador; that's simply a fact of its geography and climate. When it arrives, though, it brings with it a spectacle that most of North America doesn't have the opportunity to witness: the remarkable phenomenon of sea ice. The ice is almost like a living thing. It drifts in on the combined forces of current, tide and wind, transforming the landscape overnight with its strange and varied shapes. It cloaks the ocean in an undulating mat of

white. Drifting along with the ice are the season's first icebergs, frozen giants calved from the glaciers of Greenland, making their way south after having wintered over on their journey. They sail past regally far at sea, or sometimes venture closer and ground themselves in the shallows like the two seen here at Quidi Vidi in the spring of 2012, when a spectacular sunrise complete with a sun pillar formed a dramatic backdrop. Small coastal communities like Twillingate (top) see their harbours

blocked with ice, often delaying the passage of fishing boats; calm, sunny days, though, bring out an array of reflections that transform the harbour into a place of wonder. The ice might stay overnight, for a week, or even for a month or more; it will depart as quickly as it arrived, drifting back to the sea and leaving nothing but a memory of its passing.

Springtime in Grand-Pré

The day before my most recent junket to Newfoundland was spent exploring Nova Scotia's South Shore and Annapolis Valley regions; it was a relaxing and interesting way to make the trip to Halifax for my flight. The South Shore was a natural since it lies between Shag Harbour and the airport, but the jaunt to the valley was prompted by the need for a plate of Santa Fe Haddock at Lisa's Cafe in Windsor, NS. Lightly breaded and seasoned with southwestern spices, the flaky white fish is

served with a delightful cranberry salsa and it's definitely worth the drive. Getting there, though, was a pleasure as well; it was a perfect day for seeing the sights of the eastern Annapolis Valley around Grand-Pré National Historic Site and Evangeline Beach. One of the prettiest views of Grand-Pré is from the Post Road as it travels along a ridge above the community (top). Apple orchards were in full bloom, and the gracefully arching umbrella-shaped trees in the older orchards

were especially striking. Before the widespread use of dwarf varieties of fruit trees, standard trees were pruned in this pattern to allow the sun to reach the fruit more evenly and to keep the apples closer to the ground for picking. Although it's fallen out of favour in more recent years, this pruning style can still be seen in a few locations. The most striking sight of all, though, was a remarkable sculpture along the road to Evangeline Beach. Three doors, one standing on a base at ground level and the others arranged above it, created an intriguing and traffic-stopping attraction -- there weren't many cars on the road that afternoon, but I wasn't the only traveller who stopped for a closer look. I've done a bit of research since, but to no avail; I'd love to know more about this piece of roadside art and the artist who created it. A short drive from here lie the broad, red tidal flats of the Bay of Fundy, stretching out from shore at low tide. There'll be more about them, and their crucial role in shorebird migration, in a future post.

Dipping Kiacks

Locally sourced food doesn't get much more authentic -- or more local -- than this. Each spring along the shores of New England, Canada's Maritime Provinces, and the Great Lakes, a member of the herring family best known as Alewives make their way into their spawning streams from open water. Birds like gulls, cormorants, ospreys and herons take advantage of the buffet, and locals line the banks of the streams with dipnets to catch

a share of Nature's bounty. The fish are bony like most herring, but when smoked to soften the bones they're a great local delicacy. In southwestern Nova Scotia they're known as "kiacks", pronounced like "kayak". Years ago, no small community grocery or general store was without a wooden box of smoked kiacks being sold for a few cents each.

The kiacks arrive in early May, and the word goes out up and down the shore. These days, fishing times in each river are regulated, for periods ranging from a few hours to full days. Times are posted near the stream and are strictly enforced, so when there's no fishing the kiacks make their way upstream unimpeded. During the open hours, fishers line the banks with nets at the ready, dipping in just upstream of the rock they stand on and move it downstream with the water's flow, catching the small silvery fish as they head up-river to their spawning grounds. They're placed in tubs or crates for transport, and the best of them are set aside for salting and smoking. The rest will be used immediately for lobster bait or frozen for future use. The

spring lobster season will be in effect until the end of May so they'll definitely be put to good use -- no waste here!

Kiack season is a social event, too; there's plenty of time between runs of fish to visit, catch up with old friends, or talk about a wealth of riveting topics like politics or the weather. All to soon, the run will come to and end and the dipnets will be put away for another year. Right now though, for young and old, the riverbank is the place to take part in a tradition that's been kept alive in these parts since the first natives caught sight of the silver flash of fish in the stream.

Icebergs and Sun Pillars

On Monday evening a friend called to say that there were a couple of icebergs grounded just outside the "gut" at Quidi Vidi, a small village that's part of St. John's. Would I like to go take a look? I didn't have to be asked twice -- I love the icebergs that work their way south along the Labrador current in spring and early summer, and I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see and photograph one, especially in a setting as picturesque as Quidi Vidi. We drove to a point above the village, then walked to the Quidi Vidi Battery, not yet open for the season. The hill gave a commanding view of the bergs in the narrow opening to the small harbour; the two bergs were of completely different

shapes, one flat or tabular and the other pinnacled and looking a bit like a huge white walrus. There were thirty or so people gathered on the point, taking photos or just enjoying the view, but the light was fading fast. We decided to return the following morning to see the bergs in the early light. Serendipity provided the perfect weather conditions for a sun pillar as the day dawned, making for a spectacular scene that was well worth the early start. When an opportunity arose for yet another visit to the bergs that evening, of course I couldn't resist. After a walk to the end of the Barrows Road and a scramble across the rocks, another friend and I joined the watchers on the point and settled in to

enjoy the view and the changing light. We were delighted to see a couple of colourful kayaks head out for an evening paddle, past the bergs and along the coast. While they were gone, the tabular berg shifted on the tide and nearly closed off the opening to the harbour; fortunately there was enough room for them to get past, but the return trip was definitely a bit more challenging than the outbound one. Thanks to those two kayakers for adding extra interest to this beautiful evening!

There is a website that provides location data and background information on icebergs in Newfoundland and Labrador -- www.icebergfinder.com operates during iceberg season and gets its data from both satellite and local observer information.

The Rambles of Spring

It was a great day for a spring ramble in Southwestern Nova Scotia -- it dawned clear and sunny, and the road called out for wandering. The perfect song for the occasion was running through my head: The Rambles of Spring, written by Tommy Makem and performed by Makem and Clancy: "The days are on the mend and I'm on the road again."

As for which way to travel, the options are fairly limited in this part of the country: up the road or down the road. Thanks to the long, narrow shape of Nova Scotia, its southwest/northeast orientation, and the fact

that Shag Harbour is near its southernmost tip, "up" the road is roughly north and "down" the road is roughly east. This quirky geography is also responsible for the fact that the same stretch of coastline is the South Shore on one side of Halifax and the Eastern Shore on the other, the North Shore roughly parallels the Eastern Shore, and Western Shore is a community on the South Shore. Honest. So "up" it was -- through part of Shelburne County, Yarmouth County and into Digby County. This region of Nova Scotia is largely Acadian in heritage, predominantly

French-speaking and with a unique and vibrant culture. The landscape in this part of Nova Scotia consists of rolling hills covered in dense forest, with a broad coastal plain that's often made up of wetlands and saltmarsh. The communities of the Clare District, as it's known, follow the main road through the region, so Nova Scotia's Route 1 is sometimes referred to as the country's longest Main Street. Each community along the road boasts its own distinctive Roman Catholic church, including North America's largest wooden church at Church Point and an impressive stone structure at St. Bernard.

A visit to this area wouldn't be complete without a stop at the Roadside Grill in Belliveau's Cove, a tiny, unassuming place that serves up heaping portions of succulent deep-fried clams gathered on the local flats, burgers, turkey dinners and a delicious Acadian dish called Rappie Pie or Rapure that's made from grated potatoes and chicken, beef or clams. There's no pastry crust involved; the potatoes crisp on the edges to form a crispy shell. There are two schools of thought on this

delicacy -- I'm one of those who consider it a plateful of pure bliss, but there are others who run screaming into the night at the very mention of its name. The service at the Roadside Grill is friendly and efficient, and there's a real sense of neighbourhood here; the waitresses know most of the customers by name and sometimes don't even bring menus since the customers know the offering here as well as the staffers do. Next to the restaurant there is a tidy little row of tourist cabins that are available for rental, in a perfect 50s flashback. After a great, hearty meal at the Grill it was time to head for home. The day definitely qualified as a great spring ramble!

A Night to Remember

Coming up in just over two weeks is an extremely poignant anniversary; on the evening of April 14, 1912, the luxury liner Titanic struck an iceberg some 365 miles from St. John's, Newfoundland. The liner, built by Harland and Wolff in Belfast for the prestigious White Star Line, was launched on May 31, 1911. She was fitted out with state-of-the-art technology, including a series of sixteen watertight compartments that could be closed by the captain's mere flipping of a switch on the bridge. By Monday, April 1, of 1912 she came under the command of Captain Edward John Smith, who had served with the White Star Line for some thirty-two years. By April 10 she began to take on junior crew members, passengers, and the all-important coal to fire her massive boilers. Among the passengers were Thomas Andrews, Harland and Wolff's managing director, and White Star chairman Bruce Ismay, there to oversee the great ship's maiden voyage.

During her travel from Southampton, Titanic's two radio operators, Jack Phillips and Harold Bride, received a number of warnings of a huge field of ice ahead of them, some of those warnings arriving as early as April 11. Standard procedure was that these warnings would have been logged as received and passed along to the officers on the bridge. Neither Phillips nor Bride was an employee of White Star; instead, they were employed by the Marconi Company and their function on board was primarily to send and receive private messages for paying passengers. On the night of April 14 as warnings continued to arrive, Phillips was busy sending messages to the Marconi station at Cape Race, Newfoundland. Out of frustration at being interrupted at his task by the wireless operator on the SS Californian sending yet another ice warning, he replied via Morse Code, "Shut up, shut up! I am busy; I am working Cape Race!" This message would be quoted later as an example of one of the factors that led to the Titanic disaster -- just fifteen minutes after Phillips sent it, Titanic struck an iceberg in that great icefield. Within hours, Titanic had slipped below the surface taking more than 1500 of her passengers and crew to a watery grave. Incompetence, unpreparedness, and arrogance had combined to create a tragedy that ranks among the worst marine disasters in history and arguably the most famous.

A number of events are planned to commemorate this landmark event; information about those taking place in Newfoundland can be found through Receiving Titanic; events begin on April 1st and carry on through the evening of April 14th, 2012.

Exploring on the South Shore

Wednesday dawned bright and clear with promise of record-high temperatures -- alarming from an environmental point of view but subversively attractive in the lean, cold, hungry month of March. It was definitely time for a road trip. I set out for Kejimkujik National Park's Seaside Adjunct at Port Joli. The area was set aside in 1988 to preserve a large section of Nova Scotia's coastal barrens; it consists of spruce and fir forests and bogs where orchids like Dragon's Mouth(Arethusa bulbosa) and Grass Pink (Calapogon tuberosus) and carnivorous Pitcher

plants (Sarracenia purpurea) can be found alongside the trail. A beautiful crescent-shaped beach of sparkling white sand lies approximately 2.2 km from the parking lot, accessible by a well-maintained walking trail. It was a beautiful day for the walk, with the temperature near 31° and sunny skies. The park is not yet officially open for the season, but the main trail to the beach was open; the longer, more scenic route, however, remains closed.

After my visit to the Seaside Adjunct I headed back toward the southwest, then turned down the

road along the east side of the Sable River to Jones Harbour, where two lobster boats were tied up at the wharf while another unloaded its newly caught lobsters into a car or storage unit floating just offshore. A bit of movement over the water caught my eye as I turned to the left, and I was delighted to see an adult bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) take flight from a low ledge. It flew low over the water toward the shore, then angled sharply upward to land in the top branches of a bare tree -- next to another adult, which I hadn't noticed before. The two were almost certainly a mated pair, since these birds tend to be very territorial during breeding season. After a quick word of thanks to the eagles for making my day, it was time to hit the road for Shag Harbour. What a great way to spend a beautiful day in sou'west Nova Scotia!

Silver Thaw or Shelagh's Brush?

It's all in the timing, I suppose. In Newfoundland and Labrador, there's a belief that St. Patrick's Day brings with it a storm, usually one of the last significant storms of the winter. It's a deep-rooted tradition within the Irish-descended population in particular. The occurrence of a storm within a day or two of March 17 was so common that the storm came to be known as "St. Patrick's Storm". A lighter, less snow-laden storm occurring soon after the St. Patrick's storm soon became "Shelagh's Brush" -- the identity of Shelagh (or Sheila) has become a bit murky over the years, with some people referring to her as St. Patrick's wife while others think of her as his mother or even his housekeeper. The light snow of Shelagh's Brush was said to be the result of Shelagh taking a birch broom to the corners of the heavens in a spring-cleaning frenzy. Somehow, through the passing years, the two storms have merged in the collective psyche of Newfoundland and Labrador and now, the big storm on or about St. Patrick's Day has taken on the name of the later, less severe storm. This year, whether it belongs

to Shelagh or to the Saint himself, has packed a punch and created havoc with airline schedules. Instead of a few hours of snow, St. John's received several hours of freezing rain that glazed every surface in sight. Streets, sidewalks and parking lots became skating rinks early this morning, and the city echoed with the sound of windshields being scraped clean of their thick coatings of ice. The streets are clear now, and as the temperature rises the glittering burdens of trees and shrubs are clattering to the ground. One of the most common sights around town at this stage is a throng of intrepid

photographers bundled against the cold and rain, capturing the effects of the storm before they melt away. Whether it's the work of St. Patrick or Shelagh, whoever she might be, or just a "silver thaw" provided by Mother Nature, it's certainly beautiful in its own way; and in a place where the weather is often the first topic of conversation, it's certainly given everyone something to talk about!

Loving the Light

Winter can seem to last forever here in Atlantic Canada, but it brings with it an unexpected beauty; the angle of the sun at this time of year can create beautiful golden light in the early morning and late afternoon. It can give depth and definition to a scene that's otherwise fairly mundane, like a scrap of icy snow on the timbers of a wharf.

St. Patrick's Church, located at the western end of downtown St. John's, is situated in a spot that catches the light -- no tall buildings overshadow it, so the last rays of the winter sun find the church's tall spire and highlight it with rich, warm tones.

Late afternoon sun enriches the terracotta color of the Yellowbelly Brewery on George Street, and sparkles on a row of icicles on the railing.

The colourful name of this business harkens back to the times when Irish immigrants from the counties of Waterford and Wexford were arriving in St. John's. The Wexford men were nicknamed "Yellowbellies" after a hurling team from that county sported yellow sashes when they soundly defeated a team from Cornwall in a challenge match. The nickname followed them to Newfoundland; since Wexford men gathered in this area, the intersection of Water and George Streets became known as Yellowbelly Corner, a St. John's landmark.