 Island Retreat Winter is upon us. The snow is falling. Forgotten water containers have bulged with ice and now lay broken. One Hundred Mile Marsh is over-frozen and as in winters past my mind wanders to a particular island. The island is not of the tropical kind with palm trees and long sandy beaches; this island is a low mound of mud clothed in cattails that sits in the middle of 100 Mile Marsh. I lost track of how many nesting seasons went by since I installed 10 bird boxes on the island, (installing the boxes was no easy task given that each box required pounding a metal fence post into the island to support the house.) Now I’ve realized that my mini housing development for birds is not going to pay off. The boxes on the island just did not appeal to Tree Swallows. Tree Swallows did not want shrubbery or grass waving around at the entrance to the cavity hole. It was not a problem in early spring but later on as vegetation sprouted, the boxes all but disappeared in greenery. The island also lacks any type of tree, so the boxes became favourite perches for the Yellow-headed and Red-winged Blackbirds that were nesting in the island cattails. Any Swallow would be unnerved by the sound of Blackbirds constantly parading around the roof top. A year or so ago, after ice formed, I walked to the island to retrieve some boxes. On that particular day the temperature was around -20 Celsius even before factoring in the blowing wind. Despite being armed with a 10 pound solid-metal hammer I could not dislodge a single metal pole from its mooring in the frozen mud. Bear in mind the metal stakes are sunk to depths of about 3 or 4 feet. Defeated by the elements I returned to the car with just one bird box under my arm. I decided that the rest could weather another year. And so another year went by with another spring’s worth of Swallows diving about the boxes - occasionally landing - but ultimately abandoning the site to nest elsewhere. Last week, mild winter conditions were in my favour and I had a sudden impulse to return to the island, so I gathered my all-metal hammer and stuck a large Robertson’s screwdriver in my back pocket. Then I drove my car to the parking lot at the visitor information building. We’ve recently had several nights of well below zero temperatures, but I still listened for the sound of ice cracking underfoot as I made my way through the perimeter of cattails and rushes on the shoreline of the marsh. There was a bit of crunching and some slush in the footprints I left at the edge of the marsh, but all seemed secure so I crossed the open stretch to the island. This fall the marsh was briefly drained of water so if the ice broke, I would probably end up waist deep in mud; not a pleasant experience to be sure, but not life threatening, so I walked confidently onward. I reached the first bird box and tried one of the screws holding the bird box to the steel post. Wouldn’t you know it; the screwdriver was too large. There was no way I could loosen the posts if the boxes were still attached so I went to Parkside Arts and Culture Centre (rather than go all the way home,) and borrowed the proper tools. I returned to the marsh then removed nine boxes from their poles and piled them on the west side of the island. Now the heavy work could begin. As in the past, I planned to loosen a post by driving it deeper into the mud then pull the loose post from its moorings. I pounded the first pole and it sank willingly into the ice and mud (in previous efforts the poles held fast.) Next I dropped the hammer and worked the post up and down in a butter-churning motion. The loose pole was not giving up without a fight. Just judging by feel, the post was catching on a shell of frozen mud near the ground’s surface. Finally with a great heave the metal pole came free and I hoisted the 8 foot long stake, dripping with gray mud, onto the snow. I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon. There were still nine poles to go! I moved on to the next stake and worked my way around the island. I managed to remove 3 more. The other six poles refused to budge. There was no way I could retrieve the difficult stakes without more tools and possibly another person to help. I would also need some fresh theories on fulcrums and prying tactics. I returned within the hour with another person. I also brought along an 8 foot piece of 2 by 4, a stout piece of rebar about 6 feet long, a roll of wire, some rope, and a block of wood to be used as a pivot for leverage. I was fully prepared for success. We lashed rebar to the birdhouse pole and pulled up on both ends, but soon found that the 2 by 4 used as a pry bar with the wooden block, worked best. We worked our way from stake to stake. But it was no easy task. Each rusted iron post had taken a vow to stay put and required pushing, pulling, side-to-side rocking and more pounding before we finally pulled out all the posts but one. That one particular post felt as though it was set in concrete. It would not budge. We grudgingly decided that one pole had the best of us so we retreated with 9 of the 10 bird box poles, and all ten of the bird boxes. A closer inspection of the bird boxes revealed that 3 contained remnants of incomplete nests. One contained a nest and parts of a hapless Tree Swallow. The other boxes were totally empty. I now have nine stakes and nine boxes in need of new locations when spring arrives. Let’s hope the next spot is chosen with more care. The island experiment need not be repeated. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
