December Moments

DECEMBER MOMENTS

Wednesday, December 19, 2007 (Napanee Beaver)

Friday, December 21, 2007 (Picton Gazette)

I have the dubious distinction of annually celebrating my birthday on one of the shortest days of the year. This might account for why I have taken on the habits of redpolls and tree sparrows of the sub arctic tundra who routinely begin feeding long before the light of day. Similarly, my breakfast is over by 5:30 a.m. and I have taken my dog for her walk down a quiet dead end road and have returned well before it is fully light.

Early mornings are special to me, and always have been. My dog and I enjoy walking this road under the veil of darkness. Often, like the other morning, it is so quiet, we can clearly hear other early risers along another road, across the cattail marsh from us, as they open and close doors and start their day too. At least three great horned owls call every morning, invisible resonant hoots that float lazily back and forth, as though sharing gossip across the miles. Despite winter temperatures, these great horned owls however are not spreading idle gossip. They are into more serious stuff, for in a few short weeks, the distance between these calls will lessen as birds pair up and nesting begins. It seems early, and certainly not in temperatures conducive to an intimate relationship, but horned owls must start their household duties early in the year as the process from eggs to fledged young, is a long one.

It was on this same road, also early in the morning, when I heard my first hermit thrush of the spring singing, its liquid flute-like notes filtering through the branches of a grove of red cedars. But it was the woodcock along this same road that my dog was most interested in on several of our walks this spring. Its peculiar twitters and whistles caught her attention every morning as the bird performed its nuptials at the edge of the woods, sometimes so turned on in its efforts to impress a prospective mate on the ground, that we could almost reach out and touch it.

Spring walks are rewarding as we herald in the arrival of the first red-winged blackbirds in the marsh, and the ping pong ball notes of the first field sparrow. But it is winter that serves to refresh the soul and start our day. The crunch of the snow beneath our feet, and the bite of the cold air as we turn around and head back home. Our dog seems to relish cold days and loathe hot days, just like her master. If she could understand English, it is probable that she would tire, as I often do, from listening to others drone on endlessly about the cold, the snow, the wind, the ice, ad infinitum. We have chosen to live here, for whatever reason. If there is one undesirable feature of winter that I could single out, it would have to be the sea of salt that we now demand be in place so we can exercise our right to drive the roads as fast as we do in the summer.

Fortunately, kids have not yet adopted this hatred to the three lean months of the year. It was refreshing to see, after the first marked snowfall this season, numerous kids enjoying a natural backyard hill at the north end of Belleville’s Pinnacle Street. Of course, the small slope at Zwick’s Park has become almost legendary with kids in past years, as they unknowingly toboggan down the slopes of a former landfill site. Elsewhere, we may be seeing a marked decline in kids taking advantage of winter opportunities. Certainly, the former downhill ski slope at Picton’s Macaulay Mountain is no longer the congested spot it was in the 1980s. To use a favourite expression of a former colleague of mine, this steep hill was “brutal.” Few have ever tobogganed its entire length. I did on one occasion some 20 years ago when our son and his friend offered me a challenge I couldn’t refuse. It was definitely a scene straight from the National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation when we finally brought the waxed aluminum toboggan to a stop, just short of the back doors to the old conservation authority office, and just missing a stone retaining wall!

Early morning walks bring back memories of times when everyone accepted winter and learned to enjoy its many offerings. We are fortunate to live in an area that provides us with four seasons, each of reasonable length, unlike some areas that are forced to endure over a half year of snow and cold. Winter is but three months in length, and before we know it, we will once again be awash in lilac blossoms and migrating warblers, not to mention biting mosquitoes, stinging bees, summer droughts, thunderstorms and sunburn. Hmmm.

Let’s enjoy our winter walks this season and remember that the other three seasons have their drawbacks too. From NatureStuff tours, we would like to wish everyone this season a joyous Christmas and best wishes in the coming year as this column enters its 43^rd year of publication.