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March 16, 2006  March of the Empties March of the Empties March once again comes to the Cariboo, followed closely by the Canada Geese; I think they have no choice, compelled by an agreement signed years ago when the climate was a bit warmer. At first the weather seemed rather typical not too trying for the Geese. But March, in feline fashion, became rather unpredictable. Perhaps March's lamb costume was at the cleaners. This is how it went: The return of Canada geese began as a trickle with pairs and threes coming in from the east using Bird Compass Ridge as their guide; some people call this ridge "the old ski hill." The second day, probably Tuesday, goose numbers grow. Calling geese, once absent for months, make urgent, daily flights over town. My response, to anyone asking, is that 'Canada Geese are not necessarily looking for open water.' This is said to people who note that Canada's are returning while much snow still covers the ground. Many people reason that Geese need to float and presumably feed on open water. This assumption seems reasonable but if you asked a freshly migrated Canada Goose which it wanted more, water or grass, it would opt for the grass. Water comes in handy for putting distance between geese and landlubber predators, but the water is not a source of food. Getting the grass is tricky when much of the snow remains unmelted. The Geese, in typical Canada Goose fashion push their luck by arriving early. Flocks of geese seeking what little food is available make for the south-facing slopes of Exeter Lake. From the end of the airport I see them stretched along the upper part of the open fields picking tidbits like starving miners looking for gold in black sand. These conditions might have been tolerable if the nights following the Goose arrival were not so cold. Sundown falls like the closing of a freezer door and hardy Geese hunker down on exposed frozen lakes and side-hills to endure temperatures of minus 18 Celsius. This happens night after night until the Geese surrender and decide to slip south for a few more days of warmth. Sunday morning, I walked along Exeter Road to view at close range how the Canada Geese endured the cold nights served with a side dish of starvation. It was sunny when I turned off the main highway and wended my way up Exeter Road. The only birds calling are Starlings, (which could perhaps be called "Start-lings" because I've noticed with startling regularity these birds have already staked out, and are standing guard, over their spring nest cavities.) Talk about getting a head start on the competition. I walked westward and noticed a number of empty cans and bottles in the ditch. By the time I'd reached the top of the first incline I decided to pick up the empties on the return trip, so I made note of useable plastic grocery bags among the litter. These would provide me with a means of carrying the all the empty bottles and cans. I reached a spot on the road where I could look down Exeter Valley, but still saw no geese. There were, however, plenty of empty cans and bottles. I reached the cardlock gas station, stepped up to the fence at the edge of the field and scanned the scene. A little ways across an open expanse I saw a pair of very large Canada Geese. One goose was standing; the other goose was squatting. They saw me and turned their heads but made no sound. I assumed they had either just arrived, or braved the stretch of cold nights. If they had just arrived, their rather unenthusiastic response to me was understandable. I pushed through the roadside stands of saplings. These small trees grow so close together that one is forced to use arms and legs to make ones way through the thick jungle; much as a flea might make its way through a good head of hair. The saplings were both dense and covered in road dust. I soon tired of brush-beating and returned to the road. I crossed the ditch and noticed even more cans and bottles! I was close to the spot on the road where I'd planned to turn back towards my van, so I picked up a grocery bag I found conveniently hanging by a rose bush and began harvesting the returnable litter. I was heading westward and stopped to once again look at the lake. I spotted Red-tailed Hawks sitting on two separate poplar trees. These hawks were the first I'd seen in months and were most likely a pair which regularly nested on the upper side of Mud Lake about a half mile north of their current location. One of the Red-tails was quite close to me and flew off, but the other, near the lake, remained perched. Both were oddly silent. Perhaps they too felt the pinch of empty stomachs. I walked towards town scrumping cans and bottles. I soon filled both bags, so I cached them in a ditch and found two more plastic bags, which I also filled and cached. I made my way back to the van and soon returned to gather all six bags of cans and bottles. It was quite a haul. The next morning, in quite the same manner, I walked along the main highway. This time, however, I intended to walk to 101 Marsh. I was not out to pick bottles or cans, but started in once again. They occurred in even greater numbers than yesterday. Luckily I found a large orange garbage bag along the road and began filling that. By the time I reached the marsh I was carrying quite a load. The marsh was totally covered with snow and ice. There was very little to suggest we were this far into March. A startled Robin appeared in a tree above me and broke the wintry feeling. He uttered a few carefully chosen profanities about the winter scene then flew off looking bewildered, but resolute. I crossed to the east side of the highway and walked back to town picking empties as I went. When I arrived at the highway pull-off just above 100-Mile House, the garbage bag was so heavy that I had no choice but to ditch it in a ditch. I continued gathering bottles over the last few hundred feet and found plenty on the right side of the road. Two March mornings of impromptu bottle picking, and searching for spring, left me with about twenty dollars and a sense that the winds of March will not soon make my heart a dancer. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
