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BEAVER BATTLE

28/11/2020

1 Comment

 
Picture
WAITING FOR A RIDE
I was wondering, as I wrapped trees with chicken wire, whether I’m not playing a part in the absurd. Sort of like the politics that have been going on and on and on south of us.

Voltaire wrote, ”Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”


​The Queen, in Lewis Carroll’s book, “Through the Looking Glass,” attempted to convince Alice to believe absurdities. She said, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six thousand impossible things before breakfast.”
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APPLE TREE IN FALL
But, what about my trying to keep the beavers from chewing down our trees? You see, the trees’ roots tighten down the soil and help prevent the river from eroding its way up to our mobile home’s front steps and beyond. 
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BEAVER DAMAGE
I bought, in a sudden leap of faith, two rolls of fifty feet by four feet of chicken wire. Of course, it had to be pointed out to me that four feet becomes minus two feet if there’s six feet of snow on the ground. We’re liable to get at least three to five feet of snow. Rather discouraging.
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SCENE NEAR CHETICAMP
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WONDER WHO LIVES IN THAT HOUSE?
I did cover a partially chewed apple tree with about two and a half feet of wire before I bought the roll of chicken wire and on Sunday I saw that a Jolly Green Giant beaver had already started gnawing on the trunk above the wire. Must be yummy. He also chewed an exposed root. So, I wrapped my new four-foot chicken wire around the tree and used fence staples to attach it to the trunk and the exposed root. I hope the trees are not beyond saving.
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DRYING OFF BUSTER
The resources person told me we could get a trapper who might charge around one hundred dollars per dead beaver. Trappers used to get money for the pelts, but now they get more for killing them for guys like me. I don’t want to go that route if I can help it.
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THE SUN APPROACHES
“You’ve got to realize,” he said, “that they can give birth to up to six kits in a year.” Nice to know they are fertile and don’t use birth control. That’s a lot of hungry tree chompers.

Another fella said, “There’s fifty or sixty beavers on this part of the river.” Nice to know.
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FOG BLOCKS VIEW FROM SQUIRREL MOUNTAIN
Apparently the best approach is to put metal around the trees. How absurdly expensive would that be? 

​They also say you can paint the trees with paint and sand. However, it washes off. Always a catch, and of course one fella had to say to me, “Beavers floss with chicken wire.” Yuk, yuk. So absurd.
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MIST LIFTS
There are good and bad things about using chicken wire. One good thing is it’s not too expensive and it doesn’t need to be hooked together with anything. The bad part is the small pointy pieces of wire will also hook to everything else. The tiny metal claws poking my skin, getting a death grip on my coat and yanking away at my pants. The chicken wire also hooks itself to itself when I don’t want it to, so I’m constantly shouting, “Unhand yourself, you oaf!”
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JALAL, VINCENT & ME ON SQUIRREL MOUNTAIN
Of course, there’s also the grabby branches I have to walk the chicken wire through to get to the tree subjects I plan to beaver-gnaw-proof. They’re also catching onto everything and constantly yanking my tuque away from my head. Specially one son of a bit off muffin. 
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VINCENT ENJOYING HOT TEA ON THE TRAIL
So, at times I’m praying the river will throw one of its hissy-fit floods our way. The rushing water could tear the beaver dam to rat crap if it was in a really foul mood.
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JALAL MAKING HOT SOUP ON THE SPOT
Of course you’ve heard the saying, busy as a beaver. Totally true. Totally hard workers, totally persistent and totally tenacious in following their set work schedules and if you tear down their dams, they don’t re-use their building material. No, they don’t give a damn. They just use brand new material, which means they’re chewing down more trees. They’re the kind of consumers our society prays for. 
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VINCENT'S SQUIRREL MOUNTAIN PAIL. A GIFT FROM ME
So, as I wrap wire and poke myself, my knees soaking up the wet snow, I sometimes think about the crazy absurd political talk that’s going on outside our little woods. Which helps make me aware of how lucky I am to be listening to the purring river, to be smelling the soil and damp leaves, with the chickadees occasionally interrupting my work to give me the message that the feeder is empty.
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TRAIL TO MEDITATION SPOT
AND THAT'S IT FOR THIS WEEK.
1 Comment

POINTY SIDE DOWN

14/11/2020

2 Comments

 
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CHETICAMP RIVER
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SICK TREES HUDDLING BY THE MOUNTAIN
In my last blog I wrote some nice things about hornets and bumble bees. Live and let live was my theme. I wrote this with the knowledge that nature has a way of testing us and not long after my supporting-hornets blog the animal kingdom sent me some messages.

​For example, we were at the North Sydney Mall when what did I spy with my little eyes? The check engine light was on and so was the anti-skidding light. Plus, my cruise control stopped working and the indicator light on the stick shift for Drive was off. 
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CHETICAMP RIVER CREATURE
However, I had to take the truck in for its warranty servicing anyway. Plus, after two days the problem went away and hasn’t returned as of this present blog writing exercise.

In Port Hawkesbury I drove my truck into the area where you park your vehicle before it’s taken into the garage. When I jumped out of my truck, a woman who was eating her lunch inside her car shouted out the window, “There’s a little 
animal running around underneath your truck.” It was a mouse. Now homeless.
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SALMON POOL'S TRAIL
They hooked my truck up to a computer and told me they couldn’t find any problem. They thought an animal might have chewed on a wire or two.

Now my truck is stuffed full of Bounce sheets. It smells glorious.


​Is it working? Not sure.
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HIKING BUDDY AND ME AT SALMON POOLS TRAIL CABIN
A few days ago I saw a squirrel run under and then jump up into the underside of my truck. Later that day I walked to my truck and a chipmunk came out from under my truck. Not the squirrel. Where was he?
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APPROACH TO CABIN
And guess what I was doing on Tuesday and Friday? I was covering the bottom of some hardwood trees with wire. Why? Because the beavers have moved in. They have built a dam almost all the way across the main Middle River’s channel and have also built a smaller dam behind our woodshed. No threat yet of a flood, but the beavers are chewing down our trees.
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I phoned the Ministry of Resources. The woman who answered gave me a phone number to call and told me she had a squirrel under her floor and didn’t know how to get it out. What did she do, I wonder? Did she test nature in some way?
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SALMON POOL'S TRAIL
Anyway, we had the Ministry of Natural Resources fella out our way. He gave us some tips. Told me to put sheet metal, about five feet high, around the tree. I can also use chicken wire, although it’s not as good.
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NATURE'S PULPIT
Of course, I heard that five feet high doesn’t do it when the snow starts to fly. Five feet high becomes no feet high around here. Another person told me they hibernate so maybe that won’t be a problem.
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EGYPT FALLS
I can also hire a trapper. He charges one hundred dollars per deceased beaver.

​Are you getting the point? Do you see how by giving the hornets great press I opened myself up to the universe’s testing. Because, only days after I posted the hornets’ blog I was being tempted to hire a trapper to kill the beavers? 
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SUN REFLECTING FROM THE BRANCHES
So, guess what I’m doing? I’m daily checking our trees for gnawing marks. Chicken wire, staple gun and snippers near-by. 

​And by the way, getting my staple gun to work was another possible proof of how this universe works for me.

​
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ENJOYING EGYPT FALLS WITH A CUP OF TEA
How did I get the staple gun working? Well, I kept frigging around with it until it worked. Put the wrong staples in. Put the right staples in, but in the wrong place. Put the correct staples in, but upside down and finally put the correct staples in what I considered to be the right side up-side. Click, clicked a few times for each procedure and finally at the end of the last insertion of staples and still with no staples shooting out, I attempted a true and tried method. I tested a universal law.
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ALMOST AT EGYPT FALLS
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TWO HIKING BUDDIES AND ME AT EGYPT FALLS
I took the staple gun and put it on top of some pages of a manuscript that I DID NOT WANT STAPLED TOGETHER! I placed the staple gun with pointy staples facing downwards, just like before and then pressed. Sure enough the gun worked and my manuscript was severely stapled together. 

​It seems to be the way my life works.
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MAGIC IN EVERYTHING
“For the truth is a terrible thing. You dabble your foot in it and it is nothing. But you walk a little farther and you feel it pull you like an undertow or a whirlpool. First there is a slow pull so steady and gradual you scarcely notice it, then the acceleration, then the dizzy whirl and plunge into darkness. For there is a blackness of truth, too. They say it is a terrible thing to fall into the Grace of God. I am prepared to believe that.”
              Robert Penn Warren, All the King’s Men 
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NORTHERN CLOUD LIGHTS
2 Comments

GOOD NEIGHBOURS

2/11/2020

0 Comments

 
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IT BETTER BE REAL
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GAVE ME A START
I’ve been thinking, as I watch some of the death cult political rallies on television. Why don’t they just put a massive container of Kool-Aid on the cultish altar, give each rally participant a paper cup, and let those who are so inclined, go at it? 

​So, because of the crazy and cultish Alice-In-Wonderland-fake-news world we live in, I’m sticking with writing some more about my hornets or yellow jackets. 
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I WAS CYCLING ONE DAY.
You see, after I wrote my last blog, I noticed that the hornets seemed to be paying more attention to me. Am I paranoid? Egotistical? All of the above?

When I was in the bank retrieving some of my money from the bank machine, a hornet landed on the inside of my glasses. 


​“Hello, little fella. Are you here to make me eat my blog words? Trying to scare me?”
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VIEW OF PORT HASTINGS FROM CYCLING ROUTE
However, he or she didn’t bite me and lately when I’ve been drinking a beer in the woodshed, two burly hornets would, almost every time, drop around and scope out my drink, or buzz my face, land on my arms, my head or, my lips of all places and would sometimes drive me to another imbibing sanctuary. Of course they would eventually track me down. Was I being tested? Am I egotistical enough to think the hornets don’t have better things to do than test my hornet theory?
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ALMOST DIDN'T SEE HIM
When I was at a beautiful cove two weeks ago, where I watched a seal float by and where I climbed the rocks and jumped out of the way of waves and where I ate my lunch, a bumblebee landed on my hand. I gently put him down on the ground and I also rescued another drowsy bumblebee from off a rock. I’m assuming they are getting sleepy or whatever they get when winter is approaching, but once again my ego made me think they were paying attention to me. Now ain’t that crazy?
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HIKING IN CAPE MABOU HIGHLANDS
And I’m thinking that maybe my extra gentleness with and empathy for these tiny critters are because of the horrible lack of empathy that the cult-like character is exhibiting not far from our home country. That doesn’t exclude all the other crass treatment, theories and excuses many of our own economists claim as they clear-cut and rape nature.
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REALITY
One day, when I was sitting in the woodshed, smelling the firewood and listening to the squirrel setting up his or her woodpile condo, I got thinking about the hornet’s nest that had been built or placed on the side of the woodshed; see last blog for clarification.
​
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LUNCH-MATE
You see, those hornets seldom bothered me even though they were on the other side of the woodshed, just around the corner. Why were they so timid or considerate? Why did these hornets leave me alone, no matter how delicious the food I was eating or how tasty the drink I was imbibing?
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UNTANGLING BUSTER
I then thought of when I moved back to Ontario some years ago. I’d moved into a neighbourhood which my friend thought wasn’t such a good place to live. It was a rough area, so of course it had to have lots of crime and dangerous derelicts.
​
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OVER EIGHT K HIKE. GREAT TO BE IN SHAPE
One night he and I went for a walk to a coffee shop. We passed many houses and we would sometimes see the people inside the houses. At one house we saw a group of adults sitting around a table. 
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TAKING A BREAK ON A CAPE MABOU HIGHLAND TRAIL
I said, “See those people in the house who are sitting around their kitchen table? Do you know what they’re doing?”

​Of course, my friend didn’t have a clue what I was going to say next. Why would he?
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HAD AN AGE-RELATED EPIPHANY 200 K. FROM TOP OF MTN OVER-LOOKING ENCHANTED VALLEY
I said, "They're looking at a map of the places in your nice neighbourhood they’re planning to break into. They’re not going to rob me because criminals don’t crap on their own doorsteps or front or back porches or decks.”
​
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VINCENT ON TOP OF SAME MTN OVER-LOOKING ENCHANTED VALLEY. HE HAD A DIFFERENT EPIPHANY
Of course the hornets aren’t criminals and they ain’t stupid, but maybe they follow the same rules. 
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AND THEY SAY THERE AREN'T ANY DINASOURS
I have another thought. It’s about the conflict between the Indigenous People and the non-Indigenous people over the lobster fishery.

​
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FLOATING IN COLOUR
I'm not super knowledgable about what all the ins and outs are, but I do have a suspicion that some of the Whites’ intrinsic ideas about the logic of profit, sustainability, livelihood and their perception that the lobsters are mostly only a resource might be part of the problem. The spiritual dimension is almost non-existent. Add in the spiritual dimension and the lobsters would probably have a much greater chance of being respected and would therefore have a better chance of thriving. 

I think the hornets in my neighbourhood appreciate the Twilight Zone I live in. I believe this zone can be found somewhere in the Bible and some other great books.

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MAGIC IN THE MIDDLE RIVER
“I lost my talk
The talk you took away.
When I was a little girl at Shubenacadie school,
You snatched it away:
I speak like you
I think like you
I create like you
The scrambled ballad, about my word.
Two ways I talk
Both ways I say,
Your way is more powerful.
So gently I offer my hand and ask
Let me find my talk
So I can teach you about me.” 
                Rita Joe
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FACES IN A PAIL
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WAVES AT BEAUTIFUL COVE IN THE CAPE MABOU HIGHLANDS
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