Tiny Wetlands

A corker of a day, as the Brits would say. Sunny and warm after a couple of days of gloom and rain. Rain is great, but a blue sky is instantly cheering.

Maggie and I went up to the wetlands. It’s smallish, and was probably built to assuage the inevitable depression arising out of living in the suburban nightmare that is the neighbourhood west of Whitemud Ravine. Well, I think it’s a nightmare. Some people might enjoy those three-story mcmansions situated next to a power plant (and about one foot on either side of each other) but it’s not my cup of skinny mocha latte. Nevertheless, the water feature is gorgeous, and it does the trick by attracting all kinds of unlikely birds to the area. It’s the only place in the city (that I know of) with resident red-wing black birds, who have a very distinctive voice. There were also many other bird songs that I couldn’t distinguish, and a couple of ptarmigans (I think) that we inadvertently scared out of the bush. Sorry guys. We tried to step lightly.

This tiny wetland is a birder’s dream, and a dog’s frustration. I wouldn’t let Maggie take a dive into the reed and vegetation-filled water. Didn’t want to disturb the birds, or have to peel green slime from her fur, which would have been even more disturbing. She seemed content to smell the grass while I snapped shots of the water and listened to the beautiful, lilting bird song.

Another perfect walk.


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