Photo supplied.
With the summer solstice just a few weeks away, we will soon say goodbye to a very bad winter and a very strange spring. All the spring firsts were delayed this year, from the first sightings of red-winged blackbirds to the long-awaited display of spring ephemerals like trout lilies and bloodroot. Even now, at the end of May, our native trillium are still blooming as the trees finally leaf out and lilacs begin to bloom along village streets.
I generally look to the pond for signs of the changing seasons, but it has been hard to read the messages this spring. The cold and cloudy days have concentrated the swallows into huge flocks (called a “gulp” I am told) as the tiny aerialists swoop and dive for insects over the pond, mostly barn swallows, with tree and rough-winged swallows mixed in. Baltimore orioles, bright orange and black, are content to stay by the pond; they’ve begun a flurry of nest-building. Females have been gathering loose fibers from last year’s milkweed for at least two weeks and the male orioles have been glowing in the infrequent sunshine. We have also been blessed with rose-breasted grosbeaks and occasional purple finches.
Photo supplied.
Photo supplied.
Some things seem different on the pond this year, though. The goslings are still following behind their parents and growing steadily in size, but there are fewer of them than in previous years. There are kingfishers as well, but I don’t see them every day. The osprey still comes marauding but seldom seems to spot much worth diving for. I often found a heron or two on the pond in previous springs, but they, too, have been less frequent visitors this year. I have yet to see a turtle. The Canada geese now walk on mounting plateaus of silt that are starting to break through the surface. Much of the pond has only a few inches of water left.
What might these changes portend, if anything? At the annual general meeting of the Millbrook and Cavan Historical Society on May 23, Dr. Mark Peck, head ornithologist at the Royal Ontario Museum, gave a talk on climate change and its impact on birds. Some news was good, like expanding ranges and reviving numbers of some species. More was bad: dwindling numbers overall, habitat loss, and myriad other growing threats to survival. He presented fascinating research on the intricate timing of avian migratory patterns and insect emergences. This dance, we learned, is being disrupted by slow but undeniable changes in seasonal cycles. The news about climate change was tempered with lovely photographs and some optimistic anecdotes, but Dr. Peck also quoted the stark assessment of Canadian climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe: “It’s real. It’s us. It’s here. It’s bad. It’s getting worse.”
It’s probably impossible to look at one small pond in one community and see the turning of large climatic wheels in the small doings of birds, fish, and turtles. One pond in one town is not a reliable window on a planetary emergency. But it’s our pond. And it’s us.
True, there’s little we can do about global carbon dioxide and methane emissions. But the rest of Katharine Hayhoe’s message is instructive: “our choices can and do make a difference.” There are some problems whose solutions fall within the scope of local action. One of those is the reality that the pond, like the dam, might require some intervention to preserve and honour its natural history in the life of Millbrook. This attention to our natural heritage might protect a valuable habitat at a time when all kinds of creatures require our communal concern and support. To paraphrase Katharine Hayhoe, “What choices are available to us? What will make a difference?”
As a relative newcomer to Millbrook, I have no answers. I am not an ecologist and cannot say what is best for the pond. But I am inspired by Celia Hunter’s Letter to the Editor in the April issue of The Millbrook Times: “If no one cares, then so be it. But if you do care, speak up.” I’ll add my voice to hers and just end with “get out — and speak out!”
GET OUT! by Lisa Stefaniak
