By Margo Hearne
Rain. It’s soft at the moment although anything could happen. The trees lower their branches and the roses drop a few petals that dried out in the past few days. The wild world appreciates a little rain.
The northwesters that blew over the past weeks helped the migrant songbirds on their way. There are not many around right now and those that are keep a very low profile — one simply hears “chip” notes or soft calls and it takes a while to find where it’s coming from.
Last week we knew a family of Orange-crowned Warblers were right beside us in the leafy green, but we couldn’t see them until one flew off in a rush. It may have been a family practicing for the big trip south. Similarly, a family of Swainson’s Thrushes called from tree to tree 10 days ago. Again, there was no sign of the birds, only call notes heard from the high conifers. The summer song has ended and we won’t hear it again until next year. It’s a short, eight-week season for the songbirds of summer.
An eagle calls from the nearby trees. It called all day recently, on and on. The young should be out of the nest by now — they seem to have survived the hydro lines around town. Eagles come in to feed on fish waste dumped on the beaches, get excited, lose their bearings, hit the nearest hydro lines and die. It is a sorry end for such a marvellous bird.
Despite the many years of asking people not to throw fish remains on the beaches, they still do and birds still die. A few locals put on their rubber gloves and piled some of the waste into garbage bags last week. It’s a good thing to do, but they shouldn’t have to. Section 36 of the Fisheries Act is clear about throwing waste on beaches: it’s a breach of the act and a danger to living things.
R.M. Stewart lived in Masset for many years. He died in 1958 but kept a daily record of activities, mostly about whether there would be enough food from the garden and enough firewood for the winter. He also tracked bird activities, although he didn’t just watch them, he collected them. He lived beside the wildlife sanctuary and during high tides the water often came up to his front door. There is now a highway between his house and the water.
Stewart kept a daily journal and on Wednesday, Aug. 2, 1944 the temperature was 12 C and it was cloudy with a Scotch mist. Kind of like Aug. 2, 2018! On that date, he wrote “collected a fox sparrow. Lots of robins feeding on the red berries (aulder). Posts from Mrs. Frost, some young lettuce plants. Western news good on all fronts doing well in France. First cauliflower quite large.”
It was during the war years and he, and everyone else, kept track of events on the western front. On Aug. 10, 1944 he wrote: “Another nasty day, cloudy with a wet mist… not much war news. Once to town, boat supposed to be in tomorrow. Shot a sharp-shinned hawk. No pay yet on the job six weeks.” His notes were short and to the point. The war was on, there was no money and the weather was poor.
