How To Recharge One’s Soul

HOW TO RECHARGE ONE'S SOUL  

April/May, 2012 issue
We  came upon it suddenly along the Salmon River as we rounded a corner in   the trail. There was no doubt it was as much startled as we were that  morning.  It was a fairly large black bear and we could feel the  vibration as it took off  and crashed through the forest litter and  disappeared out of sight. Still,  despite its size, only a few of us  managed a glimpse of it, so quickly did it  vanish.  The bear encounter  was soon forgotten as we marvelled at smaller things  while we worked  our way along the trail. 
  
 I  shall always remember the story a fellow author told me about the time  he  was going for a leisurely stroll at Rock Dunder, located near the  village of  Morton, about a half hour’s drive north of Kingston. The  walk was suggested by  his doctor as therapy following a mild heart  attack and he was advised to walk,  but to “exercise in tolerance”.  Anyone who has ever been to Rock Dunder knows  that “exercising in  tolerance”” and “Rock Dunder” are not terms that are  synonymous.  Anyway, at one point in his mindful stroll, he felt a sense of  presence  behind him, and glanced over his shoulder in time to see a black bear   casually ambling along behind him. The bear continued to keep its slow  pace for  some distance and eventually lumbered off onto a side trail.  My friend’s heart  survived the sudden jolt and he has been healthy  since.  
  
 Every  year, I am invited to accompany a group of outdoor enthusiasts as we   make our way across a piece of property just north of Tamworth, toward  the  Salmon River. I keep remembering our bear encounter on a previous  walk and  actually hope that we may see one again. I am generally quite  comfortable among  bears and have done flora and fauna inventories on  remote properties while in  their presence. I knew they were there, and I  am sure they were quite aware of  my presence. I am not much of a  proponent for bear spray since one needs to  check for wind direction  before using and wait until the bear is but 10 feet  from you before  activating the spray! So, I have willed myself to accept their   presence. 
  
 I  plan my visits to arrive early at Tamworth, and head directly for the   bakery, the moment it opens. I had been told long ago about their hot  cinnamon  rolls, and the thought of one after the hour drive always  sounds pretty darn  good to fortify us on the hike ahead. No stop in  Tamworth is complete without  spending at least a little quality time at  the Tamworth Bakery. 
  
 Spring  is the season for wildflowers and nesting birds on our leisurely  walk.  If we time it right, both yellow and orange hawkweed will be in fine  form.  There is something special about hiking in the Canadian Shield  with its granite  rocks, crevices, gullies and small beaver ponds and  creeks which seem to spring  up magically around each corner. At one  such pond a distant great blue heron was  all but hidden by the tall  grasses in which it stalked its prey, menacingly, at  times totally  disappearing as it craned its neck even lower to peer into the  waters. A  green frog bonged its banjo like notes nearby from another small   wetland. 
  
 It  is the land of snakes, likely lured into the open by the sun warmed   rocks. We have found several garter snakes on our walks, and a possible  water  snake that slithered away far too quickly for identification. A  pair of sharp  eyes came upon the emerald green of a smooth green snake  once. I continue to  hold my record of having never observed a live  smooth green snake. All those I  have ever seen have been quite dead.  Even this one managed to give me the  slip.
  
 In  some spots along the trail, it is like being at a major migration point   in the spring. Chestnut-sided warblers always call from several  separate  locations, probably nesting birds at this latitude, although  we do get them in  the Bay of Quinte area in summer too. Common  yellowthroats pour out their  “whichity-whichity” notes from wet areas,  and we always hear at least one each  of black-throated green warbler  and black-throated blue warbler, along with  several yellow warblers on  territory, and ovenbirds bursting from every  woodland. If we are lucky,  a distant scarlet tanager may call out its hoarse  notes - described by  a colleague once “like a rose-breasted grosbeak needing  voice  lessons.”
  
 From  up on a high ridge, accessed by a detour off the trail, the Salmon   River is somewhere down below, masked among the conifers and deciduous  trees. In  the dry crevices of the barren rocks, harebells, sheep  sorrel, and sprigs of  pale corydalis fight bravely to bloom. Yet, down  below in the moist lowlands,  ostrich fern and sensitive fern take on a  much different struggle - mainly to  stay erect, so heavy are they from  excess foliage due to their own little  microclimate. 
  
 For  some on the hike, it is the adrenalin surge of seeing bear scats,   reinforcing that we are not alone, or the individual wood lilies peeking  above  the grasses, or the plaintive whistled notes of a distant pewee.  For others, it  is the eventual sight of the river, still rushing over  the granite rocks on its  long route to the Bay of Quinte. For me, it is  always the veery, its haunting  flute-like notes filtering through the  deciduous forests, hidden but eerily  present. 
  
 All  of us need walks like this from time to time, a break from our normal   routine, where one can recharge their batteries. Nature can do that for  us,  directing our thoughts and energies in more positive directions.   What do I get  out of it, as a hike leader who does this for a living?  It is the thrill of  sharing information and seeing the enthusiasm and  excitement from both young and  old on these treks, and the interest in  that almost overworked word,  “biodiversity.” How everything we come  across interconnects and functions in the  natural scheme of things. We  hike for different reasons, I suppose. If there is  any common purpose  in our goals, it has to be that lightly warmed cinnamon bun  to prime  our engines. 
  
 For more information on birding and nature and guided hikes, check out the  NatureStuff website at www.naturestuff.net 
  
 Terry Sprague lives in Prince Edward County and is self-employed as a  professional interpretive naturalist.