Good news. There is water…of a sort…in the frog bog. I wouldn’t dip my toe in it, or any part of my body, but I’m not a frog. Slimy and grey is the thing in bog ambience, and I expect to hear a cacophony of croaks, cackles, keening, and every other type of lovesick frog song in the coming days. Oh frogs.
Hmm…the depth of my fascination with amphibians getting in on at the local bog suggests I may need to get out of the river valley more often…
However, I did notice that green is overtaking brown in the city. So nice of nature to oblige my colour preferences. After several days of rain the air no longer smells like the inside of my vacuum. Just fresh, green life….getting it on.
Well that was a miserable little walk. Straight down Saskatchewan Drive, which was quite a struggle as the wind tried very hard to knock me into traffic. So, in lieu of a pretty picture of the river valley, here is a pretty picture of my cat, Molly, soaking up the sun:
The Cloverdale pedestrian bridge, currently under threat from City Hall and the planned southeast extension to the LRT, is a fantastic vantage point for ‘scapes’ of every sort: riverscapes, landscapes, cityscapes, peoplescapes, dogscapes, inline skatescapes, skyscapes, goosecapes, and on occasion, hot-air balloonscapes, which is really something to behold.
For the last couple of years, a goose has built a nest on one of the cement pillars holding up the bridge. You can see it from one of the McKinney paths, with binoculars, or up close through the wooden planks above the pillar. There is really no way to view the goose on her nest without looking like an idiot. You have to find the correct set of planks, stand directly over the space in between, and stare down, like some BIG IDEA has just stopped you dead in your tracks. Or, as I did today, wait until there is no one on the bridge, then kneel down and shove your camera into the space, snapping off a few quick shots before a crowd forms around your crouching body, offering to help you find whatever you’ve lost.
Seagull Island
The other thing that’s quite noticeable this year is the island on the eastern side of the bridge. This island comes and goes, depending on the height of the river. Last year was the first time the island stayed visible long enough for grass to grow, which is good for the seagulls, but bad for our water supply. This year, it’s been visible ever since the ice melted. Still waiting for that surge of water from the mountains to submerge the island, but so far, the water level has remained ominously low.
Over to Whitemud Creek for a walk today. Heard rumours of a dead muskrat. It’s not my habit to seek out expired animals but as I have never seen a muskrat, I figured it was worth a trip. Muskrats look almost exactly like beavers but they are smaller, and instead of a paddle, they have a long rat-like tail. And infamous romantic practices. Took a guide (my niece) and my favourite doggie (Maggie) and off we went, but no muskrat. Magpies? Coyotes? A female beaver, jealous of the muskrats’ slimmer tail? Who knows…nature is quick and efficient in matters of disposal.
Show us your red wings!
However, all was not lost. The pond near the power-line was full of Red-winged Blackbirds flying in and out of the reeds. Their distinctive song was quite a lovely thing to hear. Don’t usually see these birds inside city limits, and never in such quantity. Usually it’s just one, on a fence-post. Also, a single goose paddling in the water, and several ducks. Ruddy ducks, I think, with blue beaks. It seems odd that the blue beak didn’t trump the reddish feathers when it came to naming the duck. But what do I know about duck nomenclature?
Walking in the river valley is my happiness drug. Peanut M&M’s certainly have their place in my life, but when I need a real infusion of the feel goods, I go for a walk.
When I used to work in a bookstore, people would ask how I could walk for hours after standing all day. On the contrary, I found it energizing. It does seem counter-intuitive, but the truth is I was more tired if I didn’t walk. Same thing with my brain. When my head parts are at their shriveled worst, from stress, from over or under use, or just a bad case of the blues, it’s not a nap, or a new dress, or a mood altering whatever that my brain requires to calm itself. It’s a goose paddling in the river…and then moments later, soaring over my head toward its mate on the hill. It’s an early spring lilac, like a bouquet of tiny mauve grapes wrapped in green, still weeks away from their full purple potential. A trio of grey pigeons huddling protectively around a small, dove-white pigeon. The creek, free of ice, filling the valley with gorgeous watery sounds. Sometimes I just stop and listen to the woods. There’s a constant hum of creature and forest noises, but unlike the constant hum in my own brain, it’s regenerative. Life busy with life, regardless of whether I’m there or not. It’s very reassuring. I’m not saying that peanut M&M’s aren’t relaxing or reassuring, but a walk in the woods lasts longer.
1:02 PM/3C (Back to my jacket and thermal leggings. It’s cold, but perfect for a hike.)
