SpruceHaven and Benjamin Park

26 April, 2026

SpruceHaven, St. Agatha, ON

"I feel the more time we spend in simple observation of the natural world, the more, over time, over a lifetime, we lean toward an earthen humility"

Lyanda Lynn Haupt 

     I was visiting SpruceHaven for other reasons, but took advantage of decent weather to have a brief walkabout.

     Several Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata) were gathering food and calling noisily.

     Soon they will have hungry mouths to feed.

     Lichens fascinate me and I wish I had greater familiarity with them. I am fairly sure the following are Common Sunburst Lichens (Xanthoria parietina), a species found frequently on deciduous trees in southern Ontario.

     One of my earliest memories of flowers involves Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris). I loved them then and I love them now.

      I was always drawn to ponds and cannot say with certainty whether the marigolds or the reptiles, fishes and amphibians were the primary attraction. The pond that I remember most vividly, where I caught newts and gathered frog spawn to breed at home, was drained many years ago and houses now sit where it once provided me so many happy hours. That is the tragic fate of most wetlands throughout the world.

     The emerging buds of Mountain Ash (genus Sorbus) are nothing short of exquisite.

     The same could be said of White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis).

27 April, 2026

Benjamin Park, Waterloo, ON

     Spring Beauty (genus Claytonia) is well named.

     As I was admiring this flower, a bee landed on it. 

     Initially I concluded that it was a Spring Beauty Miner (Andrena erigeniae), a pollen specialist on Claytonia virginica, but I am now doubting this assessment. It is probably a Nomad Bee (genus Nomada). 

     Red Trilliums (Trillium erectum) are now blooming.

     And so are Large White Trilliums (Trillium grandiflorum).

     A carpet of trilliums in an Ontario woodland brings me inestimable enchantment.

     Yellow Trout Lilies (Erythronium americanum) only add to the euphoria.

     I was delighted to see my first buttercup (genus Ranunculus) of the spring.

     American Crows (Corvus brachyrynchos) are always around, but seldom easy to photograph.

     As usual, I encountered several members of that two-legged tribe known generally as Homo sapiens. Sometimes, the subspecies disgusticus is involved; far too frequently, in fact.

     Here is a discarded dog poop bag, regularly (and sickeningly) observed.

     And here is a litter bin no more than twenty metres from the discarded bag of poop.

     It amuses me (in a sad and sinister way) when I hear people referring to humans as "behaving like animals." It would be a cleaner, better world if we did.

     Several Common Grackles (Quiscalus quiscula) enlivened my walk.

     A Downy Woodpecker (Dryobates pubescens) is many times an agreeable companion.

     What a splendid bird is an American Goldfinch (Spinus tristis).

     A Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura) perched quietly back from the path a ways.

     I had seen a dozen Eastern Commas (Polygonia comma) over several previous days, but none had landed. Finally this individual complied and consented to rest for a minute or so while I took a picture.

     As always, American Robins (Turdus migratorius) patrolled the area, dapper and stylish, with a fine vocal repertoire, too.

     The blossom on this fruit tree is magnificent.

     It is probably a Fire Cherry (Prunus pensylvanica), but I am not sure. By any other name it is still gorgeous.

     In a way, this was the Day of the Trillium, so I will leave you with one other bloom.

     Nature has been an everlasting source of inspiration to me. Even were it necessary I could never calculate the happiness it has given me. I am sure you can see why.

Book Review - Bitter Honey: Big AG's Threat to Bees and the Fight to Save Them - Island Press Imprint, Princeton University Press

 

     One comes away from reading this book wondering whether we have learned anything from the days when Rachel Carson alerted us to the dangers posed by  chemical pesticides, herbicides and fungicides, sprayed indiscriminately on the land, ignoring the long term consequences of poisoning the soil, water and air. A new silent spring is cloaking the landscape; the buzz of bees is chillingly absent.

     Having already faced an arsenal of poison, these vital pollinators are under increasing threat as the current US administration relaxes or eliminates existing protective regulations, even to the extent of permitting forever chemicals to be used again. These chemical assaults are not targeted and native bees and other insects, and valuable pollinator plants, are destroyed.  

     Honey bees are no longer primarily raised to produce honey, but have become trans-continental pollinators, trucked from Maine to California, to sustain the almond harvest there. In a crazy patchwork of largely ineffective management practices, almond groves are sprayed with a head-spinning medley of chemical concoctions, often killing the very bee colonies that were imported to pollinate the trees.  Add to this jumbled mess the impact of the climate crisis, tracheal and varroa mites and other parasites, and bee keepers routinely lose most of their hives in a given year.

     Big Ag is implicated in all of this, in fact is the architect of it, but the pursuit of profit trumps every other consideration. Human greed does not miss a step on the way to making money, the environment be damned.

     There is a glimmer of hope, akin to a dim light in a very dark room, but some farmers and beekeepers, are restoring the land, and managing bees and the landscape that supports healthy populations in a sustainable manner. The scope of their operations, however, is insignificant when compared with the pollination industry that sees semi-trucks fan out all over the continent each February, to provide services that are unsatisfactory to beekeeper and fruit grower alike.

     One can only hope that the vanguard of responsible apiarists is the beginning of a movement. One prominent beekeeper stated, "If there's a low spot, it's turned into a field. If there's a high spot, it's leveled. If there's a wet spot, it's drained. There's no wasteland , no opportunity for anything natural to grow that would provide the diversity honey bees need in their diet." If bees are to survive this has to change.

     Jennie Durant has written a very significant book. I urge everyone to read it. I swore to myself that I would resist calling it the new Silent Spring, but it's impossible not to. It's just that important.

Bitter Honey: Big Ag's Threat to Bees and the Fight to Save Them - Island Press Imprint, Princeton University Press

Hardcover - US$30.00 - ISBN: 9781642834000

248 pages - 33 black-and-white illustrations 

6.125 x 9.25 inches (15.31 x 23.125 cm)

Publication date: 26 May, 2026

A Walk Along the Mill Race

17 April, 2026 

     We were joined by Victoria for a pleasant stroll along the Mill Race, hoping for a few spring migrants. The weather was a little cool, but not unpleasant.

     It was no surprise that two of the first birds we saw were Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata) and Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) - both resident species.

     Bracket fungi (family Polyporaceae) hold eternal appeal.

     A Baltimore Oriole's (Icterus galbula) nest from last year still looked in good shape.

     Our first bona fide migrant was a Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus), an exceedingly attractive bird.

     Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor) is one of our most common bracket fungi.

     A Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) was having its feathers ruffled by the wind.

     It turned to face into the wind and its plumage was sleeked down appreciably.

     New life is emerging in a rotting stump.

     Everything in the living world is recycled and nothing is wasted; a stark contrast to the way humans abuse the planet, discarding waste at every turn, much of it toxic and harmful to all life.

     I doubt that many people pay attention to Broad-leaved Dock (Rumex obtusifolius), but I would invite you to take a look at it.

     There is much to be admired in this hardy plant.

     Marsh Marigolds (Caltha palustris) are on the verge of blooming. I can hardly wait.

     The same may be said of Yellow Iris (Iris pseudacorus).

     To see a White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) evokes a response akin to seeing a favourite child. No matter how often the encounter, no matter the mood, to share the moment always evokes intense pleasure.

     A male Downy Woodpecker (Dryobates pubescens) is a splendid fellow indeed.

     A few Brown Creepers (Certhia americana) overwinter with us, but most are migratory and return when the weather is more gentle.

     A Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Corthylio calendula) is always chary to display its eponymous crown, but this individual gave us the merest glimpse.

     Mosses (phylum Bryophyta) were widely used by Indigenous people as soft material for baby diapers, and I imagine it was very effective. It looks plush and inviting in its forest home.

     One day when your curiosity overwhelms you, examine it through a loupe or other magnification device, and what you see will amaze you.

     At the end of the trail, just before crossing Three Bridges Road, we saw another Downy Woodpecker.

     A Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) was no surprise.

     The Conestogo River, swelled by snowmelt and heavy rains formed a torrent that washed over the bridge, resulting in the closure of the road.

     A Red-bellied Woodpecker remained indifferent to this turn of events.

     An Eastern Chipmunk (Tamias striatus) scampered wherever dry ground permitted.

     Friendly people had left peanuts and that's an opportunity not to be missed.

     On the way up to the dam we were serenaded by a couple of Song Sparrows (Melospiza melodia).

     Double-crested Cormorants (Nannopterum auritum) had claimed a tree as their own.

     Several Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) patrolled along the opposite shore; a couple of them seemed to be nesting but they were concealed by grass and rushes and not amenable to photography.

     More views of the swollen, surging, roiling,  malevolent river.

     Water, essential to all life on Earth, can become lethal in an instant.

     Violets (genus Viola) are evidence of early spring.

     A Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) patiently worked still pools in small, sheltered coves.

     An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) was already occupied with the important work of producing the next generation.

     A Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula) peeked out from behind a wall.

     This robin, clad impeccably as befits a bird in spring, was perhaps the father of the young in the nest we saw earlier.

     It had been a great walk.

Staggering Facts

96% of the mass of all mammals on Earth is humans and our domestic livestock

Only 4% remains for everything else

70% of all birds are domesticated poultry

And the human population of the world continues to grow