Raindrops, bazillions of raindrops, have fallen since last Friday, many of them on my head. In spite of the wet, I’ve walked up and down the stairs, along the trails, one side of Mill Creek to the other, downtown and Louise McKinney Park. I submit that there is just not enough product in the world to get the frizz out of my otherwise relatively straight hair. Luckily, being on holidays, my access to human beings is limited. Tomorrow, back to work. Hope I have a good hair day.
It is astonishingly, exuberantly green in this city. Also very mushroomy. This is some consolation. The other is that we are on the other side of the drought. Whatevs, I love the rain, or at least I prefer it over excessive heat. I wish there had been a few more sunny days on my holidays, but the weather did not prevent me from walking. It did, however, prevent me from entering beauty contests.
Edmonton's most well-known citizen (photo: Rick MacWilliam Edmonton Journal)
Magpies. Everybody is talking about them, and the word is…not good. Too noisy, too messy, too predatory. I am on record as being corvid-friendly. In fact, it’s worse than that: I am mad for corvids, and that includes crows, ravens, and especially, magpies. 99% of the time, I walk alone. That’s just the way it is, for better or worse, but even in the deepest part of the woods, on the coldest of days, magpies will be there in the trees like airborn orcas, or swooping in alongside me on the trails. They are not a nuisance, they are comrades.
Occasionally, I fill my pockets with peanuts and scatter them on the ground for their dining pleasure. I feed them on my balcony. I appreciate their presence in my life, and in the often dreary landscape of Edmonton. Barring a sudden (and rather unlikely) migration of monkeys and apes to our northern borders, corvids are the most intelligent creatures sharing space with us in this city, and like most Edmontonians, they are omnivores. Unlike most Edmontonians, they eat to live. They are not emotional eaters; they do not consume baby robins because the boy magpie they love has a girlfriend. French fries, peanuts, old wieners…whatever comes to hand (or claw) is good enough, and as champion garbage producers and litterers, humans have assured the magpies a neverending supply of tasty, tasty sustenance. Robins are just another protein, albeit one with lovely vocal abilities. I hear cows sing quite nicely (with some persuasion), but we still eat them.
As for their voices, we should all be grateful that it’s not me sitting in a tree at 5:00 in the morning singing my heart out. A magpie’s screech is not a pleasant thing, but it is interesting and highly variable, depending on the situation. I sense active, complex communication. If a magpie is yelling at you, there is a reason. Yes, it’s your fault. They are engaging with us, and I think that is fascinating. And admirable. As an artist, I appreciate their sculptural sturdiness, and their beautiful, graceful lines. When I look at a magpie in my birdfeeder, picking through the peanuts for the perfect specimen, if they happen to look at me, I feel seen. Acknowledged. I’ve yet to experience that with my cat.
Paula Simons’ article in the Edmonton Journal on July 9th, in response to the vile, hostile comments about the magpie ‘problem’ in Edmonton, was deeply satisfying, well said, and much appreciated. Nice to know there are other magpie lovers in the city. I will save my hostilities, and they are legion, for more deserving targets, like those damned robins.
Sweaty perfection. Armed with a shiny coat of chemical courage, thanks to a fresh can of Off!, the woods this morning were benevolent and beautiful. No drama. No flailing arms. I think the dragonflies were disappointed that I wasn’t walking in a cloud of mosquitoes, but they hung around anyway. Just like them to come for the company, even when the buffet is empty.
Also nice? The tall grass and wildflowers along the trails.
Today, and for the rest of the week, and the rest of my short holiday, it’s going to be hot. Not sure I’m happy about this…22C seems hot enough. Walked early this morning, but the sun was still pretty intense. Luckily, the mosquitoes came along and provided ample distraction from the humidity. For some reason, they congregate in platoons near the Muttart, where there is no standing water. Mill Creek Ravine, full of fetid pools of slough water and larvae hidy-holes, is mostly free of the little blighters. To attack in wide open territory suggests they are well organized and confident…almost cocky in their ability to overwhelm the enemy (me.) Their confidence is well-founded. These are not the partisan snipers I’m used to in the woods. These are soldiers engaged in a bloody, and monumentally icky war.
So yeah, forgot to Off! my exposed bits before I set out this morning on a few downtown errands, followed by a walk through the river valley. Other than aforementioned challenges, it was a pleasant enough walk. To avoid the 26C + heat the next few days, and cognitively damaging levels of blood loss, I will continue to walk in the mornings for the rest of the week, covered in deet from head to toe. If this doesn’t work, I’m going to make myself a suit of hungry dragonflies. With their permission, of course.
An unremarkable walk in the sense that from one end of Mill Creek to the other, it was perfect. Hot but not crazy hot, with a cooling breeze and spectacular scenery all around. Even managed to capture a dragonfly sitting on a tree with my camera. Actually, that is remarkable. I’m usually too slow and indelicate to snap anything that moves, hence the 5,000 pictures of trees. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve made many attempts to take photos of all the little creatures that flit around the woods, but with little success. Make that no success. Sadly, I’ve encountered very little patience in the bug and bird world for my awkward camera moves. Very nice of the dragonfly to stick around for a few photos. Thank you.
Nothing else to report. Stuck to Mill Creek Ravine, did some stairs, looked over a few bridges, listened to the swirling creek (still running fast from all the rain), met with a few kind dogs and an even kinder dragonfly, home an hour and half later. Typical summer walk.
