All in a Name

Canada is an interesting country. It is sometimes mysterious and often contradictory. There are so many different cultures and so many unique names. Sorting out what our country might mean and figuring out all who live here is a gargantuan task.

Spread out any Canadian map on the kitchen table and you’ll see all that variety. For example, on a 1979 MNR map of the Township of Glasgow in the district of Algoma there is a Carter Lake and a Loch Lomond quite close to Wabatongushi Lake. Of course the neighbouring Township is LeGuerrier. Warring linguists would have a field day. Just as we do every year on July 1^st, Canada Day.

 Our Canada Day here in Montreal River was cool. Fog clothed Agawa. Clouds covered up that scorching sun from the day before when “swimming”, then   sunning on hot rocks was a pleasant reminder that summer was in the area. When the rains did come thundering through I saw a mother duck turn into an umbrella. She sat on a rock very close to the water and spread herself as wide and as fluffy as possible so she could protect her brood from the downpour.

But we humans also had to protect ourselves from an onslaught of other kind. The Flies!! Oh my. Oh my. They are voracious, aggressive and everywhere. As I don my armour, my bug jacket, I wonder why there have been SO many mosquitoes the past two years. Could it be the lack of bats? We used to watch them in the evenings as they dove around and around catching the mosquitoes. Now a bat is a rare sight. They seem to have deserted us, or have they died off due to white-nose syndrome. I wish they’d come back home.

Oh Canada is our home and native land but who determines what happens here?  Who decides the future of our country? I look to the lake and realize that really no one can own this place. Just as water slips through our fingers, the earth also can escape our grasp. Such a problem always stirs up several forms of debate.

Right now there is a court case over the road into Nanabozhung or Gargantua Harbour in Lake Superior Park. The word “Gargantua” has an interesting origin. In 1534 Francois Rabelais wrote a series of novels about a giant he called Gargantua and his son Pantagruel.  No doubt French explorers or voyageurs, who had read the irreverent series, must have thought that Gargantua was an apt name for this giant among places. But other folks have attached the same name to other things. Gargantua is also a limestone cave located on the Andy Good plateau in British Columbia. This giant of a formation has 601 m of passages and is the largest natural cavern in Canada at 290 m long, 30 m wide and 25 m high. Oh wouldn’t a Canada Day concert sound amazing in there!

Then there is the gorilla born in the Belgian Congo, Africa, in about 1929. A sailor originally gave the infant the name of Buddy but, circumstances had it changed to Gargantua. The unfortunate captive became a depression era attraction in a Ringling Brothers circus. His story is much too sad to print.

Another reference? Gargantua is a solitaire game you can play using two decks of cards.

Lake Superior’s Gargantua is almost 50 km miles north of Montreal River or about 40 km northwest of the mouth of the Agawa River. The harbour itself is a wonderful sanctuary.

In the ancient days, before European contact, the early peoples fished and hunted there. They also attached spiritual significance to the area’s many wilderness islands. Only boat or boot took you to Gargantua until the early 1960s. That’s when a rough access road went in from the new Highway 17 North. During the 1930s and 1940s, when lake trout fishing was at its peak, about 10 families lived there in summer. In the winter at that time, two to five families called Gargantua Harbour their home.

Gargantua is rugged, mystical, Lake Superior shoreline. I like to think of it before it got a name; think of the time when it was a home for moose and bear and caribou and fox.

Before men with ships seeking minerals needed a shelter, before people with canoes had to slip in to spend the night or before travellers on foot went there to live and harvest, the place had become a keeper of magic.

Nanabozhung? Or Gargantua? Who is right? I’m not one to say. But we could ask poor captured Buddy or the mosquitoes. Or even the stars.

They would give us an interesting answer.

A Lighter Pack for Satch

A Pink Lady's Slipper  catches the glow of a June sunset.

There goes another one. Between mosquitoes, barbeques and ankle high grass it’s even hard to spot. Father’s Day has a way of being here and gone in a flash.

Maybe it’s because most folks are in the let’s-get-ready-for-summer hype. For who can ignore those earworm lyrics in Alice Cooper’s 1972 anthem, School’s Out? Cooper’s song is much more dramatic than our signal to Father’s Day, which is an extra thick edition of Canada’s beloved tome, the Canadian Tire flyer. And even that is loaded with camping gear.

Ahhhh. Camping. Our holiday tradition does weave summer dreams on a large loom of expectations. And most of the time they deliver. Since this might be an old school summer, I suggest an extra thick blanket for warming up after your swim in Lake Superior. And bring extra doses of bug repellant. But never fear. The wonders are still out there and any day by Lake Superior is a good one.

The Kiyi

With this approach to summer, we’ve had a few regular, seasonal visitors to remind us that the warm time is near. A moose wandered down the driveway and a non-chalant, observant bear sniffed our deck before strolling away. We also watched the annual passage of the Wisconsin research vessel, the Kiyi. The Lake Superior Biological Station of the U.S. Geological Survey operates this 107 foot boat. Each year the ship comes our way as it circumnavigates Lake Superior in the quest to find schools of fish at 89 predesignated spots. The researchers trawl nets along the bottom of the lake to catch the fish and then record the subsequent data. Hearing the deep hum of the Kiyi’s engines as it slips by Montreal River Harbour has been a regular June event for years.

A June fog slides over  Lake Superior

As each summer approaches and I prepare for our own lake adventures, past summers always seem to influence the present one. Childhood memories come into clear focus. It was my father, Gord Fletcher, who brought Lake Superior into my life and although he has been gone now for almost 25 years, what he gave and taught me has never left. I still have a fondness for sitting on a warm dock and listening to the water slosh underneath me. I still enjoy the mystical nature of fog as it crawls towards shore, lifts for the hills and then slides back out to the lake again. And I still recognize our connection to the world by the timeless sway of water to rock to water. Although my father never spoke of these things to me, he did allow me to experience it on my own, which might be the greatest lesson of all. My father gave me two simple, yet profound, bits of advice from his own camping /outdoor life, his own school of hard knocks. Dad told me that it was ok to put my packsack down once in a while. And he also declared that one would die of hunger if all one had to eat was partridge. (It took me a while to figure this one out. I guess the amount of energy it takes to hunt, kill and cook the wild bird far exceeds the energy it gives you.)

There’s a thing my father gave me that still sits on an obscure shelf today. His unusual gift was an old brass school bell with a black wooden handle that wobbles when you pick it up. Once used to let kids know that recess was over, the shiny clanger last had life on a New Year’s Eve.  Sometimes when I look at that school bell, I hear Cooper’s song. And this week I found an info bit about his now famous piece of music. The title, School’s Out, came to Alice Cooper as he was watching one of those 1940s -1950s Bowery Boys movies. Huntz Hall (Satch) had done something silly and one of the gang said to him, “Hey Satch, school’s out!” The Bowery Boys meaning for “school’s out” was to “wise up”!

All this thinking about summer has fathered an idea. We know that the sand in Time’s hourglass slips through at an amazing speed. So no matter what this summer can be, it will be awesome just because it’s summer. And when the school bell rings again in September, I’ll try to take a few extra moments to remember my father.

Round Trip

That ticket price was worth it. We've made the trek. Once again we've arrived at our sunny place.And all the journey required was our patience. We didn't have to board planes, pay extra for checked baggage or go through customs to reach the sun. It came to us instead. 
Now folks can toss aside winter coats, see blue carpets of forget-me-nots where there used to be piles of snow and glide along streets and trails on their bikes instead of getting stuck in drifts. And just sitting in the warm outside gladdens the grumpy faces.

Here along the Lake Superior shore, even though one can see occasional white mounds of ice tucked in rock crevasses, our liquid version of water is back. Last week was such a treat. The lake had remained smooth for quite a few days. Mornings often carried an early dreamy mist and twilight lingered for hours with pastel blues and pinks reflecting on a silken surface.  In the middle of the night, loons called to each other from their resting places and the peepers, oh the peepers, kept trilling to their heart’s content - and mine.




Spring is also alive with the birds. White throated sparrows are singing their Poor Can-a-da. (They must know that we don’t have a Canadian team in the Stanley Cup play-offs!) Red, yellow, orange or blue warblers skim through the trees like flying flowers. And then there are the hummingbirds. According to our bird journal they always seem to arrive mid-May. They are a miracle. How do those wings beat so fast? How far have they come? And what was it like during THEIR winter?


The return of the sun also brings out another flock - the fleet footed runners. Running has become a staple in the activity diet for thousands, maybe millions. It’s great to see so many people taking up the challenge. Running a marathon used to be a rare feat (pardon the pun). Here’s an interesting story about the first “modern day” marathon I came across this winter while perusing a Bradt travel guide to Greece.At the revived Athens Olympic Games in 1896, Greeks grew more and more disgruntled because they weren’t winning anything. The final event on April 10 was to be the first ever modern marathon, with the winner doing a lap in the stadium under the eager gaze of the Greek king and his two crown princes.All the Greeks were looking for a hero. And that year the gods provided one. He surfaced from humble beginnings. Spyridon (Spyros) Louis, born Jan 12, 1873, was a poor water carrier in the streets of Athens. Since piped water was not yet in place, his job was to push large tanks of drinking water around Athens in a handcart. 

An earlier stint in the army had established Louis’ reputation as a runner. So, under pressure to compete, he borrowed a pair of shoes and entered the marathon.Twenty- three year old Louis was rather nonchalant about the race. During the 42.2 km run his girlfriend gave him half an orange and her father provided a glass of cognac. He stopped other times for more sustenance - milk, orange juice, a red hard-boiled egg (traditional Easter fare) and a beer. When it looked like the Australian leader of the race, Edwin Flack, was going to win, Spyridon Louis poured it on. Then the unfortunate Flack collapsed a few kilometers before the end of the race. Louis, who had blown by the rest of the competitors, ran victorious into the stadium. The crowd erupted and filled the air with flowers. The two princes even jumped down from the stands and finished the last lap with him. His winning time was 2:58:50. As the King presented Louis with his medal, the grateful monarch offered Spyridon anything he wanted. After a moment’s thought, the athlete asked for a donkey powered water cart.Louis never competed again, but he did appear once more in the 1936 Olympics. He went to Germany and, dressed in Greek traditional costume, he presented an olive branch from Olympia. Spyros Louis died March 26, 1940, several months before the invasion of Greece, still hopeful that he might have won his bid for peace.


As we all prepare for this new season, it is a good idea to remember how peaceful summer can be. This was a heavy winter. Like the peepers who emerge fresh from their frozen state, let’s sing to the warmth. And like the hummingbirds who return every year, let’s travel light. That way it’s easier to run the race. Plus all that extra baggage carries a big price tag.

April 25 2014..... A Train for Thought

                              

Every time I hear the ACR train whistle I smile. It is an immediate reminder. The wilderness is only a few hours away. But for how much longer is anybody’s guess.

Talk of the ACR passenger service to the lands north of the Sault has heated up coffee stops for several weeks now. And since spring is still under winter’s thumb, there has been a lot of opportunity to share what the loss of access to the ACR corridor will mean. I look upon the ACR as an amazing part of our heritage.

The ACR hauls around a lot of history. The other day I took some time and poured over a 1980 ACR map. I followed the winding curve of the track and counted out 44 stops, each with a unique name. Some of them, like Searchmont, Achigan, Montreal Falls (affectionately known as 92), Canyon and Dubreuilville are still used today. Others, like Horsey and Bucyrus, have fallen away with time.  But every name had an importance. There’s the town of Hearst, named after a former Sault resident, William Howard Hearst. He had studied at Osgoode Hall and became a lawyer in 1888. For some reason, (maybe his compass pointed north too), he ended up practising law in the Sault. It wasn't long before politics was his forte. In 1908 Hearst was an elected member of provincial parliament; in 1911 he became minister of Forestry and Mines.  Then, 100 years ago, in 1914, when Premier James Whitney died, Hearst became the new Premier of Ontario. He was the kind of man who looked out for workers and believed in compensation for injuries. He developed reforestation and fire prevention programs and also provided loans to settlers.

Qualities of light on snow inspired Franz Johnston .

An irreplaceable gift from the ACR is the way it sharpens the artist’s creative edge. Frank Johnston was a painter who came to Algoma in 1918 with the first members of the Group of Seven. He fell in love with the landscapes that he saw on his trips up the ACR. In a 1919 Algoma show,Johnston contributed 60 works, more than any other artist.

The area around Hearst and Franz was deep inspiration for Johnston. Although he moved to Winnipeg in 1921 to become principal of Winnipeg School of Art until 1924, Ontario called him back. Johnston returned and taught in Toronto at the Ontario College of Art from 1927 to 1929. But it was his connection to Algoma and Northern Ontario that had rooted into his soul. So much so, that in 1927 he changed his first name from Frank to Franz, after the town on the ACR line.

Another special locale is Hawk Junction. In 1909, ACR officials established “Hawk” as a crucial stop along the line. A vibrant community sprang up. In 1923, when a fire destroyed the town, residents pulled together and rebuilt everything. The train station there is a step back in time. It would make a marvellous movie set. The impressive, two-story brick structure even could be a candidate for heritage status. Several years ago, I took the train from Hawk up to Hilda to spend a couple of days at Errington’s Wilderness Resort.  I bought my ticket at the original wicket. I sat on the worn, oak bench where a waiting passenger, decades ago, had carved a fancy, handwritten initial H  into the arm beside the seat. Such intimate details add to the overall magic of train life. And no doubt the ACR has been magic for thousands of people.

ACR station at Hawk ... courtesy Panttila family album

Local videographer, John O’Donnell, tells the story of how during a film shoot of the ACR he captured some remarkable footage. His camera was running as the engineer on the passenger train opened his window before approaching a steep grade. As the train slowed climbing the hill, a raven flew alongside his window. When the speed was just right, the engineer handed off some food - he gave the raven half of a sandwich! O’Donnell says that the funny thing was a young raven was flying about twenty feet behind the mother. The engineer thought that the mother was teaching the young one the ropes.

A favourite raven on his favourite perch

Mmmm. Could there be some learning here? Can we teach the next generation what Northern Ontario can mean, to us as well as to the rest of the world? There is spirit and hope in the wild spaces. There, folks can find their true self in their own private way. That is a rare thing in these changing times.

No doubt the future will be a digital one, where most experiences are virtual. But maybe we can help some of the real ones stick around for a little while longer. Like that long, slow whistle as the passenger train pulls away from the station.

The ACR train heads home.

April 3 , 2014

The icebreaker came.In the middle of the night.  And by morning,  ice bound ships from Thunder Bay had left. CCGS Pierre Radisson to the rescue again.

Raining Stars  by artist/photographer Paula Trus who captured this time lapse image in the early hours of  April 3, 2014 at Montreal River Harbour. Lights on the horizon from the stranded ships share the night sky with the stars. 

April 2,2014

                                       Fisheries and Oceans Canada/Canadian Coast Guard

The icebreakers cometh. They grind their way through the frozen lake. They open the path for the others to follow. And they hope that Mother Nature will navigate the way.

Depending on sun, wind and warmth to help out with the melting of the ice on the lake is a good idea. Nature will provide the balance while we seek a myriad of ways to cope with this extreme weather.Distractions work well. Between snowshoeing, shovelling, Season Four of Downton Abbey, the Olympics and the recent Juno awards the days are full. During the televised Junos I laughed at the exchange between Serena Ryder and twins Tegan and Sara. They joked about forming a group called the Frost Biters, in honour of this year’s crazy cold winter.

But extreme winter weather is much more than an annoyance to the sea faring segment of the Canadian population. The shipping industry has to rely on the spring break up. When winter won’t let go without a struggle, then it is time to bring out the big, er maybe bigger, ships. Ice breakers are a tough breed and they are in a huge demand right now. The Canadian Coast Guard has 16 icebreakers to operate in Eastern Canada and the Arctic. There are two heavy duty icebreakers, four medium ones, eight multi-purpose vessels and two hovercraft. In addition, there is one vessel with icebreaker capacity on the Pacific Coast.

There’s a desire now to get on with the Great Lakes shipping season. The U.S. Coast Guard began their annual spring ice breaking in Thunder Bay on March 27 and the St. Lawrence Seaway’s 56th navigation season started March 28. That was a special day for Algoma Central Corporation. The Algoma Equinox, the first of their series of eight, new, energy efficient “Equinox” ships, went through Lock 3 of the Welland Canal.

The new ships are needed. But so is an ice free lake. So I checked with the Canadian Coast Guard to see what icebreakers MIGHT be coming our way to help out. Right now the Samuel Risley is cracking up eastern Lake Erie and the Griffon is chewing up ice on the St Lawrence River.

The diesel- powered CCGS Samuel Risley, built in BC in 1984 is about 70 m long and almost 14 m wide with a draft of just over 5 m. This ship has a cruising speed of 12 knots and hosts nine officers and 13 crew members. In 1858, Risley (pronounced is), became the first Chairman of the Board of Steamship Inspection. He was a pioneer in ship safety regulation.

CCGS Samuel Risley   Fisheries and Oceans Canada/Canadian Coast Guard

CCGS Griffon  Fisheries and Oceans Canada/Canadian Coast Guard

Another older icebreaker, the Griffon, was built in Quebec in 1970. About the same size and speed as the Risley, the Griffon has nine officers and 16 crew members. You can watch the Griffon on Utube to see, hear and almost feel the crunch of breaking ice.

This vessel is named after Le Griffon, a much, much older ship, which sailed the Great Lakes in 1679. On her maiden voyage, the ship sailed the then uncharted waters of Lake Erie, Lake Huron and Lake Michigan. But it vanished on the return trip, with no remains ever to be found.

CCGS Pierre Radisson  Fisheries and Oceans Canada/Canadian Coast Guard

 A third ice breaker, a bigger, middle brother to the Risley and the Griffon is the Pierre Radisson. Built in BC in 1978, the ninety-eight m long Radisson has a strong and powerful diesel-electric motor. She can plow her way through ice a meter thick at a speed of 6 knots. Named after Pierre Radisson, the French fur trader who explored Canada’s north in the mid 1600s, the Radisson makes the Arctic its usual ice breaking theatre. However, this year it has journeyed our way to loosen Lake Superior’s deep heavy ice and thick drifting snow.

Some say the Great Lakes ice is the worst it’s been for decades, while others say it’s the best. But, there is no doubt that the presence of such a huge ice pack has had a huge effect. Some of that can be most positive. The quietness, freedom and clear air of so much open space pull on one’s personal magnet. The peace and calm, the muted colours and the blinding bright light radiate a sense of well being.  Good medicine for the tired soul.

But the satellite view of Lake Superior shows that the lake cover is changing. Cracks in the ice resemble old paint peeling off the wall. This heralds the end of our icy season. Our sidewalks are going to sink into the lake. Slush will claim our walkways. The ice paths will be a memory. That broad, bright, white expanse, which has lit up the lake for a couple of months, will dim to grey before becoming a brilliant blue. Some will cling to their digital pix of long walks on all that hard water and others will cheer the return of Lake Superior’s open water.

There’s a unique music to this ice demise. Tinkling shards and crashing chunks, the last sighs from a long hard winter, succumb to the demands of the sun. We applaud such orchestrations. We will add them to our play list, turning up the volume as the iceman leaves the shore. But, somehow, I think that there might be a few who would rather be singing Serena Ryder’s song, Baby Come Back.

Row, Row, Row the Boat

     A T-shirt would be a fun. One that says “I Survived the Polar Vortex 2014” on the front. And on the back we could write down all the strange, funny things we had to do to make it through this incredibly long, will-it-ever-end winter.

Seriously, folks did have to use all their resources and inner wisdom to solve some of the problems with the cold.
     Whether it was depending on a friend’s garden hose for water because the kitchen pipes froze or finally figuring out which scarf keeps the wind from biting off your face, ingenuity was the name of the daily survival game.For sports fans, the Sault once more gave spark to winter events.
     Congrats to the Sault’s 16-year- old St Basil’s student, Mac Marcoux. He won Paralympic gold and two bronze for visually impaired skiing.The young athlete, the youngest of Canada’s Paralympians, showed amazing maturity and common sense when he had to face some difficult disappointments. When his brother BJ couldn't lead him down the hill, Mac praised his bro. He indicated that even though BJ wouldn't be the one skiing in front of him, BJ was the one that got him there in the first place. And then when his radio communicator disabled just before his run, Marcoux followed Robin Femy, his brother’s replacement lead skier, with the calm resolve of “I hope and pray I make it down”.
     The youthful Marcoux exhibited how the world opens up if we can take the time to “see”. The small birds, like the finches, are one example. We have had quite a few at our feeder for most of this 2014. In January, during the minus 30 C days, the lively friends hop from seed to seed, singing away, their little bodies somehow withstanding the cold. Now that the winter is waning, their greyish hue is turning to the brilliant reds and yellows that so distinguishes the males from the females. No digital calendar or app tells the birds to become more colourful. The finches just have the will to do so. No doubt the sun dictates the change and the new little feathers listen and respond.

Just as plants in the window turn towards the sun, I sometimes find myself watching the passage of our old sol. On the massive expanse of frozen Lake Superior, the movements of light can be dramatic. As the sun rises behind our house, light and shadow dance around the icescape. On a clear morning, first light appears on the horizon as a bright pink line. In no time at all, it then becomes a shimmering white. The shadows in front of this line are a solid mass of blue and black. After a few more minutes the shadow defines itself into the shape of hills, cliffs and trees. Finally, like watching a film develop, I can see recognizable shadow shapes. The flower clump of pine trees and the arrow head of white spruce appear on the frozen lake. Before long, the sun shreds these shadows into a few dark ribbons.

Observing the movement of light and dark turns the world into a simpler place, creates an easier way of being.  I had experience this winter with how logic and common sense can diffuse a harried situation. We were on a holiday this winter (yes we escaped for a week to a warm clime). One evening as we queued outside a restaurant for a dinner reservation, a young mother came out of the eatery with a tired, screaming child in her arms. The poor mom was trying to soothe her unhappy daughter and to give distraught fellow diners a break from the crying. We saw her attempting to calm the little girl but to no avail.  Then a very simple solution presented itself. All of us waiting outside began to sing Row, row, row your boat. The child stopped wailing and began to hug her mom. The relieved parent re-entered the restaurant, but not before turning to us and mouthing a silent thank you.  

Spring Equinox sunset

We are in the home stretch now. On Thursday, March 20, at 12:57 pm, we cheered in 2014’s first day of spring. Like it did for Mac, when he had to navigate the hill at the last minute with no listening device to guide him along, common sense can come to the rescue. Especially when we need it the most. Like that T-shirt. We just have to pray for the warm weather so we can wear it.

Long Hard Miles to Play

wind walks on the ice

Long Hard Miles to Play

This darn cold wind.It makes staying warm even more difficult. Even though we have a zillion options. We can sit on radiators or cuddle up to wood stoves. Hot rocks are toasty for fingers and toes. Down parkas, duvets and up-to-your-knees shovelling work too. And of course all that jumping around and cheering during the Olympic Games sure helped.

If there was a gold medal for watching the Olympics, then Canada would have won that one too. Congrats to Team Jacobs, Team Jones, Women’s and Men’s Hockey for not only winning medals but also giving us something to get the blood pumping.

Even watching the audience participation was exciting. Energy from the hoots, hollers and fist pumps of curling supporters at Sault Ste Marie’s Essar Centre was enough to light up the city. And the televised clips of the exuberant hockey fans in Vancouver’s Liberty square, Toronto’s Atrium and Bubba Ray’s Sports Bar in Halifax gave watchers an extra kick to the game.

Wondering about the aftermath from all this hoopla, I called Bubba Ray’s and spoke with Woody, the GM of the Sport’s Bar. When asked about how it’s been, now that the Olympics are over, Woody laughed. “We have an Olympic hangover,” he said.  “We are taking it easy and had two days off to recoup.”

Woody explained that for the Sunday morning gold medal Canada/Sweden hockey game his 604 seat restaurant bar was full to capacity. “Fans with face paint and jerseys were lined up outside at 4:15 am,” he said. “I opened the doors myself at 5:00 am. We made an awful lot of breakfasts that morning.”

A dedicated fan, Woody feels a definite attachment to special sporting moments. “I always remember where I was when Joe Carter hit his home run and I was here at Bubba Ray’s when Crosby scored his golden goal,” he said. “There are a few events you always remember.”

Indeed. Millions witnessed the soul gripping efforts of the athletes. There was magic in every event and the closing ceremonies overflowed with inspiration. They put gold in my heart when light wizardry turned the floor into rolling ocean waves with hundreds of silver clad dancers who resembled fish. And at the very end of the performance, when a thousand children, each with a branch of blossoms, promised the arrival of spring, I remembered that this season’s rigid grip of cold indeed will loosen.

Even though the roots of our own wild flowers languish under six feet of snow and the biting winds turn a – 20C day into a -35C one, we can draw up the sweet scents and voices of spring. I remembered that in January I had the fortune to hear an actual spring sound. When I first heard the robin I figured I must be daydreaming. It was a sunny day with a temperature in the -20s C. Successive days of hearing the familiar song and one afternoon seeing the actual red breast among snowy branches solidified what I knew to be true. And then our neighbour, Rick Roussain,  called in mid February to say that he had a flock of at least 30 robins in his yard! The callers of spring were swooping down to the open water of the Montreal River then returning to the mountain ash trees for a berry feast. The birds were in their own Olympics to see who could get to the berries the fastest.

Such brave feathered friends. They had decided to stay north, had found the stamina to endure the severe challenges of this extreme winter. And to keep warm? Well, they huddle together and shiver. Not quite like gathering together and cheering, but similar. They too know they are in this for the long run. As the announcer said during the gold medal hockey game as he watched the players pass the puck on that Olympic sized rink, “These are long hard miles to play in a game like this.”

Yes, we are in the midst of a long hard winter, the mythical kind when everyone is tested. But hang on folks. The days are longer. The light is returning. Soon there will be a bright March day when the sun’s warmth will begin the melt. We will be able to loosen coats and abandon hats. We will cheer and rejoice in the fact that we participated in this special winter, this extreme event to remember, which should make the return to spring all the sweeter.