012 Female Cardinal braves one of the worst storms of 2015. Chance Harbour NB,Canada

Beautiful winters sunrise and birds having breakfast!

THE PULL OF WINTER.

                                   In the deep of winter in my back yard.

It's a stormy night here with pounding surf, wind and rain.  The surf has  been pounding the beach for the last two hours.  It's +6C right now, balmy compared to yesterday.  I've my window open beside me. It is calming to feel the fresh air.  Zoe the cat runs in and out that window like there is no tomorrow.  She keeps jumping over my hands and laptop to the window and vice versa.  It's as if she wants to be in two places at once. 
Zoe is an interesting cat to observe. She came to us almost two years ago.  She was 7 years old, fixed, and strictly a house cat.  Her introduction to her new home would be a shock to her.  In the warmer weather our doors and windows are rarely closed.  We let her do what she wanted to do.  She chose the outdoors.  The back yard. We call her our garden cat. It is where she hangs out, has day time catnaps and explores.  If only her personality were as soft as her fur.  She is not a good tempered cat ... at all.  She doesn't like change.  The changing of the seasons are her least favorite things.  Zoe doesn't like wet or cold.   Since November is a cold and wet month Zoe has gone from being outside for 20 hours a day down to 1/2 hour a day. Now she spends those 20 hours asleep. Much like hibernation.

   

Zoe 

Stewie, our 7 year old cat,  is the polar opposite to Zoe in many ways.  Where she is mean and impatient, Stewie is patient, loving and kind. When you pick Zoe up she stiffens and howls.  Stewie melts like butter in your arms.  Stewie is what I call a very cool cat.  He takes his time no matter what he is up to.  He never sweats the small stuff and is accepting of any changes thrust upon him.  Zoe, glares.  Stewie accepted the change in weather a month ago.  Zoe is still mad. 

                                          Stewie allowing me a early morning snuggle.                                            

    All three of our animals, which includes our 10 year old, long haired Black Lab named Bear,  have had the usual change in their fur coats.  The thing with this year is that so far there hasn't been a lot of change .  Their coats have grown heavier but, I've seen worse which maybe, just maybe, there is to be less snow than predicted for this winter season.  We always take note of such things with the animals.  My experience is that nature doesn't lie.  The weather experts say that last year, the winter of 2013-2014 was the worst on record for amount of snowfall in 100 years.  I'd believe that as I remember how thick the pet's coats had thickened, the heaviest I'd ever seen and we've had Stewie for 7 years and Bear for 10 years.

Bear

    The change in seasons affects every living thing from plant life to humans.  Yes, we humans go into a kind of hibernation as well.  Our long, sun filled days where daylight can last 16 hours per day for some of us brings about some big shifts in our daily lives. For those working the 9-5 day one goes to work in the dark and returns home in the dark.  The rest of their day is spent getting ready for work the next day then getting ready for bed.  We go from sitting outside until sundown at 10 o'clock at night to being in bed by 10 o'clock at night. These are huge changes in a short time. 

                

                                  Summer nights that beckon to us.

For us humans we are very responsive to our surroundings and our reactions to change are as varied as each person is in relation to each other.  There are two things that you can be only one of.  You are either a day time person or a night time, like myself.  And my husband, Eric, is a day type person by the way.  Our own personal clocks clash on a constant basis.  While we are both early risers Eric starts to wind down as the day light hours begin to wane.  And I become more awake and aware as soon as the sun begins to set.  So as the  winter season comes upon us, the day trippers, so to speak, can become deeply affected with the loss of light.  While folks like me seem to come alive with the rising moon!  I've no idea what causes these differences in us.  It just is what it is I guess.  It's not something we question. 

    Sadly for some others the loss of day light can be the trigger of SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder.  It can bring on severe depression.  It can be a deadly time of the year for some.  The lack of day light can cause a profound affect in some folks.  Imagine, a change in the season causing so much grief in a person's life, both literally and figuratively.  I don't think that draws a line between animal and human either because Bear and I both like the cooler weather.  We thrive in it.  Hot, humid summer days have a wilting affect on us both while Eric will complain of aching bones and not take well to the cooler temperatures at all. 

    Even if we watch our pets behaviour before an impending storm we see a reaction.  Most would say it is the barometric pressure dropping.  Or look at ourselves and see if a full moon affects some of us. 

  It seems that animal or human or plant life or insects, we are all affected by our natural surroundings.  There is no line to draw to separate animals from humans in this respect.  We are all victims to the seasons.   

    We live on a migratory path for our feathered friends and a protected nature preserve.  We spend a lot of time watching the wildlife and their habits to get to know them better, to understand them better and figure out what they are all about. 

Come the change in the seasons the wildlife is the first to show the signs.  The signs of leaving and heading south.  The song birds are the first to leave and the Hummingbird leaves about the same time. The Hummingbird is the unofficial harbinger of spring and of the fall season. 

    Our last Hummingbird didn't leave until the end of the 3rd week of September.  Knowing that they are gone until next spring always leaves me with a feeling of resignation.  That fall is upon us and that winter is coming and there is nothing to be done about it but accept it and shift the search for beauty in other ways.  Where I live in Chance Harbour it is always beautiful. No matter the weather it always has the capacity to take one's breath away.  It has atmosphere and mood.  It is rich in history.  Living here you see the landscape has an entity of it's own.  It is alive. 

    On many a cold winter night I wonder about how it was living here 275 years ago.  I wonder what it was like for the first settlers.  I wonder how they survived the daily grind in the summer let alone a harsh winter living on the coast, right on the Bay of Fundy.  For them the change in the seasons must of had a more deeper meaning to them.  They would of been affected and preparation for a long winter ahead would mean endless days and hours of work ahead to ensure they would all make it until spring. 

    To go back in time here would be to live in a whole different world.  Not even recognizable in comparison to the world we live in today.  During winter months homes would of been heated using coal or wood burning stoves.  In the evening hours the homes would have been illuminated by oil lamps and candles as families would try to extend their days for a bit longer.  Family members shared beds as well for body heat with the help of heating pans placed near the foot of the bed inside the covers.  And of course enamel and porcelain pots, or 'thunder pots' as some refer to them, were discretely set aside in case anyone had personal business and couldn't wait for the light of day to use the outhouse. 

    Spending a weekend at the summer camp with no running water or electricity or no facilities, having to cook on a century old cook stove is one thing.  As much as I love it, I never miss the roughing part of it all.  I cannot imagine living that way year round.  When we get home I feel almost humbled by what we do have in today's modern world.

                       He can do what we cannot...survive in the wild during winter.

    It is now 1:00am. Low tide will be in 3 hours and the bay will turn its pull back into the cove and up on to the beach. But at this moment, even though I cannot see through the darkness outside my window I know the north wind outside howls across the wet mudflats.  I am wondering about the wildlife on a night like this.  It is cold. It is -2Celcius and with the windchill, -9Celcius.  The wind is out of the ESE at 25km/h and gusts are at 38km/h. Yes it is cold.  Somehow they all survive. Although it has to be said that they can survive a night like this and worse. And here we are the intelligent life form and we could not survive one night like this.  Unfortunately, we can't grow winter coats. 

The whole house is asleep.  Bear is snoring in his room.  Yes he has his own bed too. The cats are in their own respective spots have been asleep all evening. Even Eric is soundly asleep. 

I take one last look out through the window into the dark cold night and think that the whole planet goes through some kind of a shift with the changing of the seasons.  We have no choice but to change right along with it.  Besides, change can be a good thing.

And to you dear reader, may you always stay warm and safe as you head down your journey to the long winter ahead. Oh yes, just one more thing if I may.  Please keep you fur babies inside out of the cold.

The rising Moon calls out for us to join her for the evening.

You can always find me at the next high tide ...

Natalie 

(Please visit me at my live cam stream to watch the  Bay of Fundy with the highest tides in the world rolling in and out of my back yard cove. You can click this link or the one in the right hand sidebar. http://www.ustream.tv/broadcaster/19398688 )

   

     

   

    

UPDATE: ALL THAT GARBAGE AND A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS : INVASION OF THE SEAWEED.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Click on all images to enlarge) 

                 (Plovers and Sandpipers play in the surf while waiting for a feed of sand shrimp)

                               (Just one of the many surreal sunrises that greet me each day.)


(Links to the news coverage to both stories of the seaweed invasion)

http://atlantic.ctvnews.ca/video?clipId=410446

http://atlantic.ctvnews.ca/chance-harbour-residents-still-cleaning-up-beach-two-weeks-after-garbage-washes-ashore-1.1957035

http://www.cbc.ca/player/News/Canada/NB/Audio/ID/2487942739/

https://player.fm/series/shift-nb/chips-good-enough-to-eat-wash-up-on-beach

http://www.cbc.ca/player/News/Canada/NB/Audio/ID/2487942739/




Almost one month ago today I posted the story of the disaster in my backyard and there has been a lot of media coverage in that time. Two stories taken from the main story received a lot of attention. That being the stories of the little bag of Cape Cod Potato Chips and the Message In The Bottle. Although both those stories had an endearing quality to them, I hope that people got the main message I was wishing to convey, that being the bad treatment of the planet, this place we call 'home'.  From land to sea there is too much neglect going on. In some cases down right abuse.  There is arrogance and then you have ignorance. The arrogance shows apathy by being aware there is a problem and not caring about the problem.  Secondly, the ignorance, by being so wrapped up in ourselves that we don't give second thought to anything outside of  ourselves.
 
      Over the last month, at last count, over 10 media outlets have picked up the two stories of the message in the bottle and the bag of potato chips.  Two of them have given a plug to the blog, I am grateful and thank them for that. One podcast site, for the year to date, has chosen two stories as their most popular so far for 2014, one of which was of the Cape Cod Chip story.  I am glad that they were both based from the massive seaweed invasion and the garbage it carried in with the tide to my backyard. 
 
      The backup to the story of the Message In The Bottle was that it was covered by both CTVNEWS Atlantic, and CBC's RADIO ONE Shift New Brunswick.  The young author of the message was found. It turns out that there was more than one bottle floating out there in the bay, there were actually 9.  They were a small church group of children out on a boat for a day of fun in the sun and all 9 children tossed bottles with messages overboard. I found Kaylee's bottle and another was found by a resident about a mile from where I live. The other finder's message actually had a phone number so he was able to call them and chat with Kaylee and her family.  I never did speak with them myself but that is OK with me. It was all good far as endings go.
      The second story of the little bag of chips took a twist of it's own. Just the fact that the little bag of chips had travelled so far was interesting unto itself.  What happened next brought to it a rather sweet ending. After I had contacted the Cape Cod Chip factory in Massachusetts they had surprised me by sending a large box in the mail.  Within that box were 6 large family sized bag of chips of five different flavours. There was also a letter stating that they wanted to send a little something to say thank you for my letting them know about the story and hoped I'd enjoy them. We did! It was completely unexpected and such a pleasant surprise! It also amazed me how many people commented on how they loved their potato chips!
So I think it's safe to say that both stories had good endings ... at least I think that is the end.  I've good reason to wonder because just as recent as Friday some of the news outlets were running the stories for the first time! The one I found the most surprising was MSN NEWS.  Wow.
                                      

                            ( A whole shipment of chips. Believe me folks when I say they are tasty!)
     
The updated story of the garbage on the beach is apparently going to be an ongoing one.  A lot of the garbage is still buried under gravel and rock and sand. A lot of it has gone back out into the Bay of Fundy because it wasn't humanly possible to clean anything but the surface garbage of which there was hundreds of pounds.  All of it was hauled off to the local landfill.  The job of shoveling or raking the heavy sand, rock, boulders and gravel is too much for any one person to tackle.  It sickens me to see the fishing ropes and plastics floating out with the tides.  During my walks on the beach whenever I see anything that isn't suppose to be found there naturally, I pick it up and toss it beyond the headland. There are plans to clean up the headland next spring, before the growth of sea grass hides is as it does now.  As long as we continue to collect what we can see then there will be that much more garbage that doesn't get to go out with the next tide.

    ( How the beach normally looks. To see the seaweed invasion and garbage pictures see 1st story.)

 Sadly some folks still miss the reason for tackling all that garbage and getting it off of the beach.  "Let the tide carry it away." Yes, I heard that a few times. I got tired of explaining what the reason behind all that work was.   I got mad and sick of it actually.  But, I'll say it one more time - this isn't about someone wanting their beach to be back to its pre-invasion condition.  This whole thing was about NOT LETTING THE GARBAGE LEAVE THE BEACH VIA THE WATER.  To put it in plain english, WE DID NOT WANT THE GARBAGE TO GO BACK INTO THE WATER TO PROTECT THE MARINE LIFE OUT IN OUR BAY OF FUNDY!!! Why is it that some of us have to keep spelling things out for others. As a friend of mine in Scotland would say, "Are they really that thick?"  My answer to him is, "Sadly, yes they are."  What is even more sad is that even when explained to them  and they understand, some will say, "Oh who cares." Well to those with such shortsighted vision I say, "I care, I care a lot. I cannot pretend to not see something wrong when it stares me in the face."  I do not have any of control over some things currently going on in my life right now but, I do have control over things like pollution.  I am as responsible as the next human being for the well being of this planet. It matters not the colour of your skin, the language you speak, if you are rich or poor or what part of the world you are in - picking up garbage is free ... for all.
   
 I really hate to think this way but, if the day ever comes that it gets so bad that industry starts to suffer - industry like sailing or boating, taking sea cruises, swimming and fishing come to an end - when you cannot see the water for the garbage, maybe then.  Who would want to fish or go boating when all you can see for miles is floating garbage? Don't think it can happen?  Maybe some think I am overreacting? Think again. Go ahead and google the massive debris field that is the size of the state of Texas floating around in the Pacific Ocean.  Do you think for one minute that there is anyone who casts their fishing lines into that mess?  Think anyone takes their beautiful expensive sail boat and cuts through all that garbage when they are suppose to be cutting through clean sea water? As with most things in life that matter, nothing matters until it hits the wallet.  When the fishing industry or boating industry start to lose business then, and only then, will there be any movement to make change. Sad but true. It always comes down to money doesn't it.  What really bothers me is when we turn to our so called leaders in government and still, nothing gets done.  They will not take any responsibility for it. None.  Oh they will say they are looking into it or they are working on an action plan and it is being taken very seriously, it just doesn't hold any water with me.  Nothing more than a lot of hot air.  They tell people like me what they think I want to hear.  Actions speak louder than words.  There is nothing going on behind the scenes as some would have you think, that's my opinion anyways and I have my reasons for thinking that. The proof is in the pudding as they say, or in the water in this case.  I wish I was wrong on all counts.  Here's the thing - when I start to see change, progress, honest to goodness attempts, then and only then will people like me shut-up.  Until that happens people like me will not go away but continue to fight the good fight.  Some things in this life, heck, lots of things in this life are larger than me. I'm just a guppy in a big pond.  But small as I am in the global scheme of things ... even I make an impact, for good or for bad.  I am, therefore I exsist, therefore I make an impact.  I for one want to make a good impact.  I want to make change so I work at making change and not just talking about it.  I want to leave the planet better than when I found it.  I will not go away as maybe some wish that I would.  Besides, even if it wasn't me doing all the hell raising then, there are millions more just like me.  We are not going to just dry up and blow away. Never.  I have time on my hands and plan on putting it to good use. I have my own drum to beat after all. 

   So, while putting this piece together I've been over 4 hours fighting with my dialup internet.  It took an hour and half just to connect to the internet and bring the blog up. 3 more hours to write and upload the pictures.  It is now 2:40am. I have been up since 6:30 this morning and I am tired.  My point in saying all this is, I had to do this update, I felt driven to do it. I want the powers that be to get a sense of my determination.  I am more than driven, I am committed.   As I take one last look out through the window on this warm summer night I see nothing but blackness and the stars scattered over the house and the cove.  I cannot actually see the cove or anything under the cloak of darkness but I know they are out there, looking back at me.  What stares back is forever my heart and soul.  I also hear two sounds out there in the darkness that float in through my window. One are the soft, contented sounds of the crickets. The other, is the beating of a drum ...

Good night to you dear reader.

                                     
You can always find me at the next high tide ...

Natalie

ALL THAT GARBAGE AND A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS : INVASION OF THE SEAWEED.

July 29^th 2014. There was a happening on this date – just shy of over one week ago. A happening that will remain burned into my memory. A lot of emotions in those first few moments ran the gamut from bewilderment, shame and determination.  The day started out as any other normal day. One of our local fisherman and neighbour had joined us for morning coffee. As we sat on our deck soaking up the warmth of the morning sun we took notice of another neighbour riding his ATV, up our kilometre long beach. On the back of his bike was piled high with some very colourful objects. As he drew closer we could see the bike was loaded down with buoys, most of which were coloured red, white and blue.  “Whatcha up to?” yelled our visiting neighbour. The other yelled back, “Just collecting up the buoys that washed in with the seaweed belt and garbage.” He added, “ The seaweed is 3 feet deep!” All I heard was  “garbage” and “beach” and felt immediate concern.  We headed down to the beach to see for ourselves just what was going on. As my husband Eric and I stood on the headland overlooking the beach and cove we were speechless, literally.  I remember whispering, “Oh God, no. No, no, no, no!” Erics' response was, “Holy hell.”  What lay upon our beautiful beach was tons of seaweed and what appeared to be a ton of garbage lying on top of all the seaweed. The debris field was literally from the beginning to the end of the beach.  The seaweed was actually at the very least 3 feet deep and as wide as 12-14 feet across in spots and the garbage that lay across this field of seaweed was all plastics. There were also tree trunks, dead trees and a lot of logs and wood in general.  Even a very old wooden barge or wharf had washed in broken up and held together only by its bolts.  That so much wood and seaweed had washed in wasn’t my immediate concern. It was the field of plastic that alarmed me. The debris field held large plastic bottles of industrial strength bleach, fish bait bags made of nylon, miles of  thick, nylon, heavy ropes that boats use. There were a lot of small plastic water bottles, half deflated helium balloons with ribbons and strings still attached, sandwich baggies, juice jugs, styrofoam, large plastic jugs of what would of once held engine oil but were filled with body waste, urine.  There were jars of mayonnaise, peanut butter, and bottle caps. I could go on and on. All I will say that there were no paper products, only plastic and styrofoam and nylon and helium balloons. The whole beach had been transformed to look like a municipal garbage dump. Oh yes and one more thing – a small bag of Cape Cod Potato Chips that lay on top of the seaweed.

The bag still had air in it as new bags of chips often do to ensure freshness. I couldn’t resist opening the bag. I looked inside – all chips were dry as, well, as dry as … potato chips. I got brave and tasted one. They were factory fresh! Eric and I plunked ourselves down onto the sand and ate the chips while surveying the beach.  Later on, back at home; I noticed that there was an expiry date of August 30^th, 2014 and on the back of the bag it said, “Made In The U.S.A.” I did some research and found the factory on the map. The Cape Cod Chip factory is located near the waters of Poponesset Bay in a place called Hyannis, Massachusetts U.S.A. I later emailed the chip factory to tell them of the adventures of their little bag of chips and of how it had traveled up the eastern seaboard, straight up the Bay of Fundy and landed on our beach in my back yard.

Map showing just part of the eastern seaboard that the bag of chips traveled.

I remarked on their great packaging. For this little bag of chips to travel so far and arrive all intact and still edible was amazing to us! They responded in kind saying the story was very interesting and they were passing the story on to their marketing department. 

 

             PUBLIC CALL OUT FOR HELP WITH CLEAN UP.

 

Hot and sweaty but seeing the end in site. This made me smile!

The rest of the 29^th of July was spent thinking hard on what to do about the garbage invasion.  I didn’t know where to turn or what to do but, I knew what not to do and that was to not let all that plastic leave our beach via the water. It would have to be cleaned up manually and fast as we only had a small window of opportunity before the tides started to climb. At that moment we were safe as the tides at their highest for the next several days were at a low of 21-22 feet. When the debris washed in it had been a high surf that had tossed all the seaweed and garbage up onto the beach, above the current tide line. So, I spent the next two days calling every level of government of both provincial and federal levels looking for help. I received the same answers over and over no matter which way I turned. It isn’t our mandate, it isn’t our jurisdiction or the federal government has made so many cutbacks our hands are tied. After realizing I was getting nowhere fast I made a call to Atlantic Canada’s top news television station CTV. I asked for one of their reporters, Mike Cameron, to take on the story.

Mike Cameron, CTV News reporter talks with Eric.

He arrived on Friday morning of  August 1^st. This day was also Eric’s 59^th birthday. Sadly Eric’s day was literally buried beneath the story of the beach.  When Mike arrived he surveyed the beach and said thank you to me for calling him. “What a story!” he said. He also said he’d never seen anything like it. The story aired that evening on the 6:00pm news and took 3^rd spot following two murder stories. After Mike wrapped up his tapping, Eric and I began the Herculean task of cleaning up the surface garbage. We were completely alone on the beach.

I think Eric is having second thoughts as he catches his breath.

We lasted 2 ½ hours and couldn’t do any more for that day. The worst part of the work involved getting at the garbage that sat strewn on top of the 3-foot deep bed of seaweed.  I’ve never experienced anything quite like that before and never want to ever again. I can only describe that it felt like trying to remain upright, walking on a waterbed mattress. It took every muscle in my body to try to not fall flat on my face into the seaweed. I know I came close twice and my screams revealed my reaction to the close calls. It was creepy and gross at the same time. I knew beneath the field of seaweed was more garbage and heavens knows what else, a dead body perhaps? Don’t laugh at that because among all the debris and over a 3 day period a dead baby seal washed in, the next day, another dead baby seal and on the third day a full grown dead seal. They probably died of natural causes but still not a nice site to see and my fears of what was under my feet were not unfounded!  On Saturday, August 2^nd, two of our neighbours Kathleen MCNamara and Gary Vincent helped us out with garbage bags and clean up. They put in two hours and made a noticeable dent. One of our other neighbours brought down his ATV for us to use to haul the bagged garbage off of the beach and also his trailer to haul it away to the landfill. Saints, all three of them for all their help. That particular day Eric and I had hit the 2-½ hour mark and I still had to make the trek home. I was barely able to stand up when my neighbour with the ATV took me home.

Many emotions on my face, none of them good.

I wasn’t in good shape and I was so grateful for the lift. On Sunday it took everything we had in us to walk back to the beach and pick up where we left off. We still had half the beach to clean. It was very slow going that day. Two hours into it, we went home. Monday was the long holiday

Post clean up.

weekend so whether we wanted to or not, we took the day off. We were physically suffering to say the least. We returned on Tuesday and 1-½ hours into it moose flies and hot blistering sun were assailing us. The bugs put the run to us. Even coated with bug spray, they were relentless.  On Wednesday we returned at the beach once again. We only had about ¼ of the beach left to clean.  Another neighbour came driving up the beach on his ATV with his young son riding shotgun.

Eric carries the last bag off the beach.

They stopped to talk to us when the child started to ask a lot of questions about what we were doing and then came the ‘but why’s – I explained we were cleaning the beach and the main reason was because of the marine life. I pointed toward the water and asked, “What’s out there?”, “The Bay of Fundy!” he answered. “Do you know what Whales are?” he shook his head, yes. “Well, at this moment, for the summer and fall months, the Right Whale lives right out there in the Bay of Fundy.” His gray-blue eyes, which strangely matched the color of the bay, scanned the water. I continued, “There are only about 300 of the Right Whales left in the world and they are all out there right now. Should anything happen to them then they won’t be around any more at all, nowhere on the whole planet.” I could see the wheels turning in his little head as he digested what I was saying. I picked up one of the thick, heavy, nylon fishing ropes and said, “See this rope?” He shook his head in acknowledgment. I continued, “Should this rope and all the other ropes and garbage float back out into the Bay of Fundy, and a whale was to accidentally swallow one while he is feeding, it will go down into his stomach, get all twisted in his belly and the whale will die. So, that is why we are cleaning all this stuff up to go to the dump so the whales don’t get hurt, it’s up to you and me and everyone else to take care of them.” He shook his head once again and then said, “Would you like us to help you clean up the garbage???” “I would like that very much!” I said.  Bless his heart I thought as I choked back a lump in my throat. Him and his Dad stayed with us until we were finished. I was sooo happy they helped. Then, the Dad piled me and his son and 4 more bags of garbage onto the back of his ATV and drove it all to the trailer to add to the growing pile of garbage.

We all went back to our house and I made coffee for us grownups and handed a nice refreshingly cold orange Popsicle for the boy’s reward. Eric also slipped a movie into the disc player … WALL-E. If you’ve seen the movie then I need say no more. I think this boy could become one of the world’s youngest activists!

 

So in the end of the cleanup we did a modest calculation of the amount of garbage we collected. We had used the lawn and garbage sized industrial garbage bags and each holds about 50 lbs each at the maximum. We had at least 12 of those bags and did the math. Approximately 600 pounds of garbage and that is not including the miles of heavy fishing rope …so, up that tally by another 150 lbs or higher. At the cost of the one of neighbours, it will be hauled off to the local landfill. 

 

While all this was going on I contacted a Facebook friend of
mine, Kevin Shaw, a fellow weather observer who lives in Gaithersburg Maryland, U.S.A. He is also a cartographer and oceanographer with the NOAA- Federal in the U.S.A.  and I asked him for his help. I needed to know if he could find out about this seaweed belt that was coming up from the New England states. He sent out a mass email to his co-workers asking them for their opinion or if they knew about this. They were not long in coming back with an answer. It turns out that every summer, in the Gulf of Maine, that large amounts, or rafts, of seaweed sloughs off after reproduction in the spring or after storms. We are thinking if a storm had anything to do with it coming this far up the coast then we are pointing the accusing finger at Post Tropical Storm Arthur, which several weeks ago paid New Brunswick a visit. So, there is the answer to the mystery of the Invasion of the Seaweed! Sounds like a title out of a Stephen King story doesn’t it?  It kind of wraps it all up nice and neat doesn’t it?   Well, not quite. While walking on the beach today inspecting for garbage Eric had called out to me, “Hey Nat! Come here and see this!”  As I drew closer to him I followed his gaze to the ground in front of him. “Look what I found!” he said, while pointing to the ground and grinning from ear to ear. Well blow me down! It was a message in a bottle! 

Message in a bottle.

 . 

It had traveled from Long Island Nova Scotia and was sent by a young lady
This just all happened this morning and I’ve yet to try to contact her. Actually I’m having a hard time deciphering her contact information.  The reporter, Mike Cameron, is going to be calling us back for an update on, Invasion of the Seaweed and I will give him this part of the update as well. Matter of fact, I can’t wait! How cool is all of this!!! I must confess though that this isn’t the first message in a bottle that our family has found. There was another about 6 years ago that one of my sons had found on our beach at that time on the Kenebacasis River. The KR is a tidal river that flows in and out of; you guessed it, the Bay of Fundy. This message was inside a wine bottle. The label had read Blueberry Wine, Nova Scotia Canada. That message was completely different. A young woman had poured her heart out about a love that didn’t work out. She had expressed how he had made her feel and how she would never forget him. There was one thing odd about that whole letter. The writer mentioned how she wanted to be “Peter’s right eyebrow.” Go figure!

 

So all the thanks we owe I’d like to place right here and not at the very end as an afterthought. These people were all instrumental in their own ways of giving of information, education and connecting us to their connections. So, a huge thanks goes out to a special person on the inside of things…this person will know that I am referring to them. I think I’ve found a kindred spirit in them as we are on the same wavelength. Wish I could say their name! Thankfully I know when to be discreet. Also a huge thanks to Kevin Shaw and his co – workers for solving the mystery of the Invasion of the Seaweed.  So thank you to; Kevin Shaw - NOAA Federal; Brian Beal, Richard Okulski - NOAA Federal; Kathy Mills; Leyden, Kathleen; Paul Dest; beth bisson; Chris Bartlett; Dana Morse; Esperanza Stancioff; Keri Kaczor; Kristen Grant; Mike Pietrak; Natalie Springuel; sarah redmond
Subject: Re: Seaweed infestation

 

Thank you to our neighbours, all five of them for their contribution to the cleanup of the beach.

 

Thanks go out to ACAP(Atlantic Coastal Action Program) for all their help and offer of gloves and bags and advice!

 

Thanks to ECW(East Charlotte Waterways) for educational information and offer of assistance. Next time this happens to our beach, and I’m sure there will be a next time, ECW is the first phone call we will place the call out for help!

 

Thanks goes out to CTV News Atlantic for airing our story on the 6:00 evening news. Also a huge thanks to CTV reporter, Mike Cameron who drove all the way out here to Chance Harbour to help us tell our story. You did a great job Mike!

 

Also a big thanks goes out to Weekend Mornings Radio Show on CBC Radio One. Stan was the greatest and gave me airtime to tell our story and put a call out for help within the community. Thanks for squeezing us in Stan!

And last but not least, Matt Abbott, The Bay of Fundy Keeper. Thanks Matt and hope to connect with you in the future!

 

And last but not least all our friends and family on Facebook! Thank you all for ‘sharing and liking’ our story! I really do love my facebook family!

It is now, Friday August 8, 2014 and it is almost the 11th hour of a long day. I've been fighting like a bagged bobcat with my lousy dialup internet speed of only 26.4bps all day trying to put this piece together. I am getting nowhere fast. I feel my blood pressure climbing and frustration building faster than a rising tide. Yet I can smell the bay and this somehow calms me. This evenings high tide was about an hour ago and we are now at ebb tide. She is quiet. Silently sliding out as she sliently slid in. I look out into the blackness of the night through my open window. It is a muggy night and all I can hear is the soft murmuring of the surf. A very soft breeze floats in through the window off the bay and cools my skin and my temper. I think back over the past week, no, the past year and realize how much this little spot on the bay has saved my sanity more than once.  The past year has brought so many challenges for us. Last July 4th, Eric had a stroke that hopitalized him for 11 days. He endured surgery and was let loose and sent home with only half his problems being addressed.  The reason I even mention all of this is not for sympathy.  But more to tie in the story of the seaweed invasion into our lives. You see, we are always under stress, we worry about keeping the roof over our heads and paying power bills and buying food.  In the bigger picture we are not very different than a lot of New Brunswickers. When we first moved here it was love at first sight. I will never forget my first morning waking up in our little cottage and seeing the view of the cove and the Bay of Fundy. I became so overwhelmed that it made my heart ache and literally took my breath away - I wept. To say it felt like destiny had drawn us here is an understatement. The tide was in high that morning. The surf softly sliding in just like tonight. The sun was rising in the east and filled the sky with soft streaks of pink light that reflected in the still, mirrored water of the cove. I felt at the time that the quiet pull of the tide was whispering, "We've been here the whole time waiting for you to come home."  I've never felt like I belonged anywhere in my life as I do here, living on this cove, on the Bay of Fundy. When the going gets rough in the everyday scheme of things and I am feeling lost and hopeless the bay always has a way of grabbing my attention be it through the scent of her, or the sounds of the crashing of her surf upon the beach, or even the call of the gulls or the eagles - it's as if she taps me on the shoulder and says, "You are not alone, I am here for you always. Toss your cares onto my waters, let me carry them away for you." She has saved my sanity more than once. I owe it to her to try to save her back. The disaster on the beach was extemely difficult on us physically. The hard reality was as two people with limited physical abilities we had no business taking on such a difficult job. I knew that at the time but, I feel such a debt of gratitude toward her. I always will. When we reached the last day of clean up, as I rode on the back of the ATV that carried me home I turned in my seat to look back at the long stretch of beach behind me and couldn't believe that we had done it. I was overwhelmed. Later that afternoon, after a long nap I made myself a much needed restorative cup of tea. From inside the kitchen I could hear the call of an eagle floating in through the windows. I took my cup of tea and stepped out onto the deck. My eyes scanned the tree tops in my yard and there he was.

We had a nice chat.

Sitting atop one of the highest trees in my yard. Such a beautiful, magnificent eagle. I said, "Well hello." he looked down at me over his beak, completely unfazed by my presence. I sat my cup of tea down, went inside the house and retrieved my camera. I got off about 50 shots. I think he rather enjoyed the attention.

He never paid me no mind, as they say.

I sat the camera down when I was finished and picked up my cup of tea and looked out over the cove and the beach. The two of us just kind of sat in this comfortable silence listening to the waves of the cove as they stretched up the beach. I wondered if he was saying, "Thank you." I had two words for him, they were , "You're welcome."

I continued to sip my tea as we both looked out over the cove. It was a comfortable silence.

July 29th. Before clean up.

Before clean up.

So dear reader. I have opened up parts of my personal life to share with you the human will and spirit and what it can accomplish. Nothing is impossible. Sometimes improbable, but never impossible. To be honest we are still recovering from all that mountain of work. I think we will feel the affects for a while yet to come. But it matters not in the bigger picture. I think my husband was a hero to take it all on knowing there was always a risk. `If I am to die of a heart attack I`d rather it happen doing something worth while than sitting in front of the tv.` We just couldn't let it go and I'm glad we didn't. I am proud of what we did even if some people thought we were half out of our minds. I never did dance well to the beat of someone elses drum. I have my own drums to beat afterall. And when I follow my heart I am at my happiest, even if it drives others crazy. Thank you again dear reader. I hope you enjoyed this long yarn of a tale of the one that never got away, in this case the garbage. Think twice before you toss anything anywhere other than a garbage can. You may think even picking up a piece of someone elses garbage won't make a difference. Think again. Take responsibility for our land and water. We, you, owe it to the planet. I thank you in advance, the eagles thank you and the whales thank you as well. And while you are at it, thank yourself.

You can always catch me at the next high tide ...

Natalie










THE BEE, THE PLOVER AND THE LITTLE BROWN BAT.

The Piping Plover (Charadrius Melodus) -


Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia



Several weeks ago an old childhood friend, Mark, was home to New Brunswick on holidays and had paid us a visit.  We soon found ourselves walking up our beach headed to the 275 year old graveyard that sat hidden in a stand of evergreens at the end of the beach.  As we strolled along the waters edge with our dogs, Bear, my big black lab and Mikey, Marks’ 11 week old German Shepard, I recounted the history of Chance Harbour and the graveyard.  I had to speak at a loud register as Mark is partially hearing impaired. 

We walked along, me chatting, Mark nodding and asking questions when suddenly I heard a near by cheeping of a bird.  My eyes scanned the beach stretched out in front of us when I noticed a Piping Plover running across the sand, then flying and landing while he cheeped away.  Excitedly I said, “Oh look Mark! It’s a Plover!” Mark turned to look at me and said, “What? A blover?” “No”, I said.  Turning to face him I formed my words as best I could to articulate the word. I said, “A Puuuloooverrr.” Mark blinked and shook his head.”  Giggling I slowly spelled it out, “P—L—O—V—E—R”. “Ohhh!” said Mark, finally understanding. He continued, “What’s a Plover??”.  

As I tried to point the bird out he was now in full flight moving away from us.  I explained that the Piping Plovers’ existence is threatened and are a protected species of bird. This poor little bird not standing more than 6 inches high and weighing about 6-8 grams has proven it’s resilience before during the turn of the century when they were all but wiped out by us humans by way of the destruction to coastal areas due to industrial progress. Long ago they were also desired for their feathers by the millinery trade.  Thanks to the Migratory Bird Treaty Act in 1918 the numbers had recovered during the 1940’s. Today they are endangered once again from beaches being used for recreation and development.  Can we not learn from the past? Apparently not.



Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia



The Little Brown Bat-(Myotis lucifugus)

The Little Brown Bat is a mamal that I rather like.  To me they look like cute little mice with gossamer wings.  The little brown bat is found throughout much of North America, as well, right here in my backyard in Chance Harbour NB.  Northern populations of bats enter hibernation in early September and end in mid-May, and in March of this year we could hear the cries of several bats one evening.  They sounded sick, weak and suffering. They sounded sad. They were starving. White Nose Syndrome had awakened them too early from their hibernation.  There would be nothing to feed on as it was still very winter-like. There are no mosquitos, no spiders, no flies, no food in early spring. White Nose Syndromes’ early awakening of the bats seems to be the bats’ more serious undoing.

White Nose Syndrome is responsible for the deaths of  between 5.7 million and 6.7 million bats.  The disease is named for a fungal growth around the muzzles and on the wings of the bats when they are hibernating.  The disease was first indentified in a cave in Schoharie County, New York in February 2006.  Its spread has been rapid.  As of  this year, 2013, White Nose Syndrome has been found in over 115 caves and mines ranging mostly throught the Northeastern U.S. and as far south as Alabama and west to Missouri and into four of the Canadian provinces.

 
The fungus Pseudogymnoascus destructans can only grow in low temperatures, in the 4 to 15 °C range (39–59°F). The fungus will not tolerate temperatures above 20 °C (68 °F) and appears to be adapted to attacking hibernating bats. Infection causes bats to rouse too frequently from torpor (temporary hibernation) and starve to death through excessive activity. The symptoms associated with WNS include loss of body fat, unusual winter behavior (including flying), damage and scarring of the wing membranes, and death.

Bats are a valuable asset in the agricluture industry because they control a lot of pests that can harm crops and farmers fields. One insect that the bats feed off of  that directly affects us is the mosquitoes. Living with a marsh beside us we expect to have more of them than say those living in landlocked areas.  Last year was a great summer for the mosquitoes and this year even better … for them. Not for us.  Sitting out on warm nights is out of the question.  Even putting up a smudge of smoke doesn’t seem to bother them much.  I have never in my life seen my window screens peppered with so many mosquitoes. Forest Service estimates that the die-off from white-nose syndrome means that at least 2.4 million pounds of bugs (1.1 million kg) will go uneaten and become a financial burden to farmers.

We spend a lot of time out on our deck which over-looks the cove and the marshland, so we’ve become accoustomed to hearing the squeak of the bats and seeing them swoop through the air just after sunset. From our personal observations there are no bats in Chance Harbour this summer.  We’ve not heard nor seen a single one.

No obvious treatment or means of preventing transmission is known. The mortality rate of some species has been observed at 95%.




A Honey Bee from my back yard.

 

The Honey Bee (Apis mellifera) - 

Honey Bees pollinate 1 out of every 3 bites of food that we eat.  That’s pretty profound.  It doesn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to see how if the Honey Bee became extinct how that would affect us humans. It paints a very dismal picture indeed.  Currently there are still billions of Honey Bees left on the planet so you wouldn’t find the Honey Bee on any endangered lists … yet.  They are classified as being under threat from CCD (Colony Collapse Disorder).  There isn’t any hard, definite answer as to why this is happening.  Some reports or better yet, theories, being blamed for CCD are quite questionable to say the least such as an Al-Quida plot to destroy American farming.  Another is cell phone radiation and more fanciful is the Honey Bee Rapture when Bees become captivated by celestial bodies.  Seriously??? The last one gives me a visual of a long trail of a million Honey Bees silhouetted against the Moon on their way to Mars.

More believable reasons would be things like pesticides that throws off their navigation skills thus making it difficult for them to find their way back to their home hives. Pesticides used in farming could be having an affect.  Or maybe fungal infections that contaminate their environment.  Even weather extremes are being looked at like Climate Change and what roll if any that might have on the Honey Bee.  

The following link is the latest data that I could find on the health of the Honey Bee.

http://yosemite.epa.gov/opa/admpress.nsf/0/E04602A5E7AA060685257B5F004A12D3

Last evening we had a Blue Moon. The Moons’ appearance was timed perfectly with the twilight of night rising up out of the East and riding on the edge of the blue hour.  It was a warm and slightly humid evening. There was a slight breeze so we thought we’d try sitting out to watch the Moonrise.  We watched as the Moon climbed higher and higher in the sky and the tide responded in kind by slowly and silently sliding in across the flats. The higher the Moon climbed, like a magnet,  it drew the tide in, slowly filling the cove.  A perfect silver Moon lit up the landscape and shone a silver beam of light against the tide illuninating the gentle breaking of  a soft surf.  With every gentle push of the tide it gave the appearance of long lacey white fingers spreading out before it, reaching for the beach.    Even the cricketts were singing in full chorous providing background music to a most beautiful summer evening.   We managed to sit outside for about an hour when the breeze died off and we were assailed  by the mosquitoes.

As I sat watching the tide flow closer I looked up at the Moon and somehow it seemed as if it was looking back at me.  It made me wonder about us as a species and why it is that it’s almost a given that when we try to  grow and move forward that in that process that we destroy something in nature.  What does that say about us? A lot I think, and not in a good way.  I think too many people on this planet don’t give a hoot about nature and the fact that it is the heartbeat of life in a manner of speaking.  Give a hoot or not it will and does directly affects us.  Dare I think of what would happen if we messed with the Moon or the tides of the Atlantic Ocean and for us,  The Bay of Fundy.  I pray that man never finds a way to do that.  I hope that man learns from mistakes despite our arrogance and yes, ignorance.  I believe also that some forms of life are meant to die out, that some things run their full course. 

With the Honey Bee, the Little Brown Bat and the Plover, these things are necessary  to sustain life for us.  Take them away and we will starve to death, much like the Little Brown Bat.

 

To you dear reader maybe some concious changes or choices can make the world of difference.  Be mindful of Plovers’ nests while walking the beaches.  The coastline and beaches are their habitat, not ours.  For our flying mamals, maybe install a few bat houses on your property or encourage someone else to do it, and stay away from caves and underground mines. If you enter an infected cave you are carrying the WNS out of the cave on your person essentially spreading the disease.  For the Honey Bee, maybe familiarize yourself with the identity of the bee so that when you see one flitting from flower to flower you will know enough to just walk away and let him do what he needs to do.

How I miss our Little Brown Bats …

You can always find me at the next high tide …

Natalie.