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August 24, 2006  My Favourite Marsh Inn Many would imagine a nursery as a place filled with young trees, or very young human beings. This column concerns neither of the above. It is about another kind of nursery, the 100 mile Marsh. I've been to the marsh many times in the last few years, often visiting on 4 or more days of the week. Some days I walk completely around the marsh. Other times I sit on the north side with a scope or binoculars and study the bird life. I've been to the marsh in a howling blizzard, and on an idyllic spring day. I've been with groups during rainstorms so bad that we were in danger of being struck by cars passing us on airport road. Because of my interest in birds, I've documented migrants and nesters using the marsh. I've also seen many mammals using the marsh edges and waterways. One morning I surprised a moose. Many times I've seen deer, none of which were really surprised to see me, or nervous for that matter. I've seen muskrats, beaver and fox. I know much of what the marsh is, but despite knowing it quite well, this year the marsh surprised me. As with many bodies of water in the Cariboo, the marsh attracts its share of ducks and riparian loving birds. When open water appears in February or March ice cracks, the birds congregate. Long before spring begins, Red-winged Blackbirds fly into the snow-choked cattails and crouch there calling spring songs. The first Green-winged Teal, Common Goldeneye, and Mallards swim in fissures created by a moving spring that enters from the south side of the marsh. Night temperatures often drop, so despite the churning of webbed feet, water freezes over and the ducks are forced to retreat. But gradually the ice relents and the water warms until the marsh is an open body of water. The number of Ducks, Geese, and Swans visiting the marsh grows enormously. Tundra swans, the most plentiful, and Trumpeter Swans spread around the margin, tipping and feeding. At this time as many as thirty other species of waterfowl jostle for room on this small body of water. Some stay at the marsh, others wait for larger bodies of nearby water to become ice-free. Many sleep the day away, as this is but a resting spot on a longer journey to the Arctic. By mid June most of the Ducks and Geese seen on the marsh could be considered nesters. I am surprised by the number of ducks that choose to nest at the marsh. During past years I've noted the various species raising broods and although impressed by the marsh's productivity, assumed that it was typical for a body of water this size. At first I had difficulty estimating the number - ducks don't broadcast their intentions. They don't haul sticks and grass, or fly to nest locations. They don't scold loudly or demonstrate they've chosen a nest location. They just sit on the water with their chosen mate and float, seemingly all day and night. But by the time the pied males, usually black and white in colour, fly off to some secret bachelor lake in the north, the females have begun laying clutches of eggs. A Duck will lay an egg a day until the full clutch is amassed (usually about eight or more eggs.) Between each egg-laying bout, the female floats on the marsh and seems unattached to domestic duties. Finally she disappears to incubate. With about eight species of Duck nesting at the marsh, and each having its own nesting time, the marsh never seems free of hundreds of brown, nondescript female Ducks. One might assume that nesting was not occurring. Usually the first broods to hit the water are Canada Geese. They nest early and are sometimes large enough to be seen sitting on their nests. Everyone knows when the Geese have hatched because word goes around town like the birth announcements of dignitaries. This year, few Geese were raised at the marsh but word still went round amid some concern that something happened to this years nesters. Typically the number of Canada Geese and goslings is over 75 but this year it was only hit a dozen. Other waterfowl hit the water with less fanfare and the duckling numbers increase until about July when one can get a fairly good idea of the broods present. When I set up a scope this past July I saw representative broods of Canvasback, Mallard, Cinnamon Teal, Barrow's Goldeneye, Common Goldeneye and Bufflehead, Redhead, Ruddy Duck, Coot, Red-necked and Pied-billed Grebe. But the leaders in productivity this year were the Lesser Scaup. As the marsh is a small body of water, individual groups of female Scaup and ducklings often blend together amicably with others of their kind. The females simply swim with a growing raft of young of other females and marshal the whole group around as if they were their own. One such group consisted of over 75 Scaup. Five females swam amid the ducklings but five into 75 is still a lot per brood. And this was just one flock. Spread over the surface of the marsh were a number of other Scaup families that maintained their integrity. All together the number of lesser Scaup on the marsh was amazing. Just now emerging from their deep summer molt, the colour of Ducks at the marsh, though still brown, add some contrasting white to their plumages. This change also signals the time of the tree molt. Soon leaves that fluttered all summer will fly free and drop to the ground. Immature ducks from all the nursery lakes in the Cariboo will spread their wings and fly to join their parents in the skies. The marsh, once popular with the crowds, will become like a small diner, now rather quiet, with only its eccentric clientele to see it into winter. After a busy summer of raising generations of new life, the marsh has earned its rest. It will slip into silence beneath a blanket of ice and snow, to rejuvenate itself until again the sun awakes it to duty for another spring. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
