It felt like summer on my walk this morning. In spite of the relatively low temperature, it was wonderfully warm on my back, and folks were out in their t-shirts and shorts. I was even buzzed by a fat bee. Not a lot of green around, but the creek has its summer bubble on and freshly dipped dogs are back on the trails in full force. For almost the entire two hours of my walk, I was surrounded by butterflies of the orange persuasion. A few yellows too, fluttering a few feet in front of me, sometimes alighting on the ground, but never for long. At times it felt like an escort. Maybe they’re on to me.
Started my walk in Rossdale and hiked a loop around north and south Mill Creek. Trails were full of people. Glad I walked this morning. Yesterday, I had planned an afternoon walk and it rained, which is the forecast for today too. Caught up on some reading and visiting instead. Didn’t want to miss the sun again today, and I was not disappointed. It was bee-utiful.
Well, one, actually. And it wasn’t a long walk, just a ‘business’ walk on behalf of his otherwise engaged owner. Still, he was friendly with the other dogs, avoided the rabbits, and was in all ways an affable walking partner. This is a dog that was born to run, but is also a champion napper. Happily, he was content to walk around the ball field a couple of times, pose for a few pictures, slurp a mouthful of water, and head up to bed to wait for his mum. Good doggie.
After I tucked him in, I continued on my walk, which was largely uneventful until I reached the top of Scona Hill. The sidewalk is still open, but showing signs of its imminent demise. As I made my way up the hill in my usual oblivious state, a dog wandered by on my right side. No owner, no collar. I looked ahead and saw a woman, so I asked if it was her dog. She shrugged her shoulders. The mid-size, reddish dog was sniffing around the construction materials and not looking particularly concerned about the rush hour traffic a few feet from his nose. I walked up to the woman, who was incidentally holding a bottle of windex and some paper towels in her hands, and she explained that while she was cleaning windows, she saw the dog run across the road. Without dropping a single cleaning product, she ran after the stray, but the dog was unresponsive to her calls. I offered to try, so I wandered over to where the dog had been and whistled but he had already disappeared into the ravine. I walked farther down the hill and called for him, but the dog was gone. Obviously, he was determined to take advantage of his (hopefully) short-lived freedom.
The woman and I chatted on the way back to her house (with the partially clean windows) about stray dogs in the neighbourhood and how we both hoped this particular stray would have his adventure and then head back home. And then we talked about our cats.
So, my hour long walk took about 90 minutes but what it lacked in speed it more than made up for in dogs. I do hope that wandering mutt is OK. Best of luck, doggie.
Wonderful walk. Wasn’t sure I’d get to have my after work stroll when it started raining this morning, but by noon, the sun had come out. New life is starting to drown out the dead brown stuff. There’s even bits of green grass here and there, a few tiny leaves, and one of the botanical society gardens at the Muttart has some sprouting crocuses. Or is that croci?
Took the LRT to downtown, and then walked up Grierson Hill to McKinney. A lone goose was standing in the middle of the Turtle Effigy, waiting for me to walk by with a camera. Just down the hill from the Effigy, a robin with
Robin Red-Chest
the loveliest ruby-red breast was perched on a tree. He refused to sing, but he didn’t fly away either, which I thought was rather nice of him. Oh to have a macro lens. A real macro lens.
The frog bog was once again bubbling with frog song. Flipped on the video and finally captured that crazy sound, although the picture is kind of grainy. Can’t distinguish the singing frogs from the humping frogs. Maybe it’s better that way.
The Mill Creek frog bog is at full-croak! Last year, early spring was droughty, and the bog never filled up. This year, it’s never been empty. On my way home from a long walk this afternoon, I heard that strange cracking sound coming from the bog, and I knew my froggies were back. I stood on the edge watching the rippling water, and the occasional frog head poking up above the reeds, being ever so grateful I was in the right place at the right time. I should really geek-out and start carrying binoculars as it was impossible to make out their individual froggy faces, but there seemed to be a great many of the tiny amphibians, all vying for the attention of the aloof girl frogs. At least I think that’s what’s happening. Why else would they be singing their little off-key hearts out? About ten minutes into the concert, a magpie swooped in and landed on a nearby branch. The almost deafeningly-loud bog went dead quiet. Nice to know I’m not preceived as a threat, but they sure know an enemy when they see one, if they actually saw the magpie, of course. Maybe they just heard it, or perhaps, there is a sentry frog watching out for the local predators. Anyway, I waved my hand and the magpie flew away. Five minutes later, the bog was still quiet. A sign that I should leave too? Might as well. A bog without frogs is just a slough.
**Addendum to this entry: A few days after this post, CBC’s Radio Active played an interview with Brian Keating about the Boreal Chorus Frogs, which are the very fellows profiled in this bog blog. It was very thrilling to hear this guy, who shares my enthusiasm for these little froggies, but unlike me, has some education to back up his opinions. Here is theinterview.
The good news continued. Godzilla is back spewing water in his terracotta pot in my neighbourhoood, so spring is well and truly here. Looks like he’s had well-deserved buff & shine; his eyes have never looked so beautifully radioactive. Welcome back, brother.
Look up…look way up
The weather can’t quite decide what it wants to do today. Alternately, I was cold, or too hot and wishing I’d worn shorts. The sun, when it was out, was very warm, but there’s a lot of clouds in the sky and yesterday it rained. I really do need to graduate to capris, or shorts, and pack away the leggings for the year. There is very little snow, and the paths have largely dried up. Three weeks from now, it will be a transformed landscape, but for now, brown prevails.
Walked over to McKinney through the lower path in Mill Creek. Quite often I see ducks in the water by the intake valve, but not today. Even the North Saskatchewan was missing it’s usual contingent of sqawking seagulls. The island is submerged under the fast-moving river, so their perch is temporarily gone. No geese either. Just robins. And frogs. The woods sounded very lovely today.
A perfectly lovely, albeit lengthy walk. About two and a half hours, the last fifteen of which I was jonesing for a cab. Sadly, none showed up.
Got off work a couple of hours early, so I continued on my quest to undo the intermittent sloth (and sickness) of late winter/early spring. Might be overdoing it a bit, but it’s been so splendid, weatherwise! Walked up to the legislature and then downtown to McKinney. Over the footbridge, I spotted some giant ice blocks floating down the river which had knocked themselves into an impromptu island, populated by a flock of squawking seagulls. In spite of my fatigue and ridiculously heavy backpack, I decided to take a slight detour to see if I could get a close-up shot of the glacial aviary. Turns out, my go-to path adjacent to the river was blocked by frost fence and sludge.
You Shall Not Pass!
The fence was hardly a barrier (ahem), but the muck was pretty bad, and this being an unmanicured path, no one removes the detritus leftover from a harsh winter. It was almost impassable, in other words, but I managed to dip in a few feet and take a some shots. The gulls were very loud, probably missing their land island buried somewhere beneath the ice and water.
Really gotta find my summer clothes. I baked in my leggings and jacket, and probably looked a little dorky. As per usual.
Could’ve used my shorts today, wherever they are, and a sleeveless t-shirt. Incredibly nice and warm. I was one of hundreds of bodies on the trails, which included butterflies fluttering about on the upper trail in Mill Creek. They are deep brown with a yellow fringe on their wings, and they always return to the same part of the trail in early spring. So early I often see them perched on the snow. All the gang is back, in fact: the spiders, ants, and all the little flying things that make the atmosphere seem summery even when there are still mounds of dirty snow just about everywhere. Can’t help but be grateful for their evocative presence.
There were many, many people in Louise McKinney Park enjoying the sun or a bit of exercise. Kinda flies in the face of those who think no one ventures into this little parkette unless there is a dragon boat race or some other major draw. Nope, today the draw was the warm weather, the chance to be close to the river, and the variety of trails in and around McKinney. The City is once again building something along the main trail. Not sure what, but there is an ugly little detour, and even the lowest part of the trail, which is both paved and unpaved, is partially blocked off. Hope it’s not another public washroom.
Lots of geese about, including one lone goose who looked rather lost in thought, if that’s possible. They seem a mile
blau und braun
wide and an inch deep to me, but what do I know? I believe there are five geese living in Louise McKinney Park and vicinity. Also, countless ducks, none of whom appeared particularly thoughtful.
I looped back through Mill Creek, which still has some major muck going on, but not enough to warrant boots. Wonderfully fragrant in the heat of the afternoon. A bit of rain and we might just see some green.
