The House & other Arctic musings

Nutella

Okay,

I'm not sure if it drives anyone else nuts (pun quasi-intended) that Nutella puts itself out as part of a nutritional breakfast. I mean come on, it is liquid chocolate bars in a jar.  But I have to say that my latest guilty pleasure is Heinz Toddler Biscuits dipped in Nutella.  Try 'em.

Leaving the Nest.

This is the time of our year, as the sun's apparent orbit (really the tilt of our spinning earth) continues to wane towards first sunset next week, that the young birds have begun to fledge. It is first noticeable with the sudden appearance of Snow Bunting fledglings. About a week and a half ago, four of them began frequenting our decks, delighting us and the clients.  Mom and pop Snow Bunting make regular forays with food for them, and they come and go as they please.  It has been entertaining watching them gain skills and co-ordination.

A couple of days ago we took a drive out to the water lake.  A bit of orange caught my eye (dried leaves) and when I trained my binoculars on them I noticed a movement near by.   Turns out a fledgling Lapland Longspur was heading over to the truck to check us out.  Still a little downy but it could fly. The male was nearby, heading into eclipse plumage, but the chestnut was still bright.

And this morning a family of Ravens fledglings was creating a deliciously raucous cacophony, begging for food from their parents near the House. The cycle of life spins on.

You ought to be in Pictures. Or not.

Part of my dearth of blogging on late can be attributed to the fact that I was actually out of Arctic Bay for a week, and actually got to go home to Roblin for a short visit with my family, and to introduce Hilary to them.

The unfortunate thing is I can't blog about my original reason for travel as it involves a non-disclosure agreement, at least for the time being.  Suffice it to say that about a month ago I was approached by a documentary film company who had read some of my writings about my Grandfather online and they asked me to help out with a documentary they are making about the Great War. So part of my time out was spent being filmed in Roblin.  Depending on how much of it ends up on the cutting room floor look for me on the small screen around Remembrance week, on well, on the channel that has the most to do with history.

Hilary and I flew out of here two weeks ago on Friday, and I have to say that she is a great traveler, much to my profound relief.  I have to say that I dreaded the over six hours of flying, plus airport time that Friday. But she was superb.  Luckily (as she was flying for free, and thus had no seat other than my lap) there was extra seats on all the flights down. She slept, she played, she checked out clouds from the top side, and the rest of the passengers in the plane. 

It was amazing to watch her once we arrived in Ottawa.  Everything was bigger, new, and there were more people than she'd ever seen before in her life.  She was so quiet, taking everything in.  You have to bear in mind that she's never seen trees, or lawns, or a building the size of an airport terminal, or more than a couple hundred people at one time or... well you get the picture. Her eyes were wide open in amazement, and she point at things, but all this time she clung to me tightly and didn't make a sound.  In the cab to the hotel she'd look back and forth between me and the road, smiling widely, and finally by the time we were near the hotel she could contain herself no longer and began saying "Bye bye" and waving at everyone of the hundred or so cars in the immediate vicinity.

We visited for awhile with my Uncle Wayne and Aunt Diva, ate some junk food and grabbed some sleep before our early morning flight to Winnipeg.  In Winnipeg my sister and brother-in-law met us at the airport (they were on holidays) and after a short stop for breakfast at Ron's sister's place we drove to Clear Lake at Riding Mountain National Park, where Michele and Ron were spending the week.  My other big travel worry with Hilary - three or four hours in a car seat - disappeared as she settled in and either slept, or sat quietly enjoying new vistas unfold before her.

Mom and Dad met us in Clear Lake for the last hour and a half leg to Roblin, and got to meet their only granddaughter for the very first time. I think it is safe to say that they were charmed. Hilary warmed to everyone in quick order and reveled in the attention she was getting.  But we still had some travelling to do, so we piled into Mom & Dad's van, put on a Sponge Bob DVD and headed home.

Next... Roblin

Fire

Some days life offers up more excitement than you expect, or really need for that matter.  Yesterday was one of those. 

Yesterday happened to be Travis' fifth birthday, although the celebration really took place on Saturday (can't be celebrating on the Sabbath you know).  The day had gotten off to a relatively slow start, with everyone sleeping in and me going back to sleep after the clients had been fed and watered.  At one, Leah was called into work as they had no staff show up and they needed her.  So with not much to do I went into the office and started to do some office work for one of the clients, emailing photos to his office.

Travis came into the office and, as is his habit, he climbed up onto the desk to look out the window. "Dad, next door has a fire.", he said. "A fire?" I thought to myself and got up and looked out.  Next door did indeed have a fire, a blaze was raging under the front steps and across the front of the house, fanned by a strong wind.  As I picked up the phone to call the Fire Dept, I saw two young men running into the burning house. Fearing someone was trapped inside (Leah's cousin's family lives there, they have five young children), I put down the phone, told Travis to look after his sister and ran over.

Dwight and Julia had been storing supplies from the mine cafeteria where he works, outside of their house, under and next to the step.  When I got to the house these boxes were fully involved (fire speak for really burning) and the front of their half of the duplex was on fire.  Just as I ran up, the two young men made a dash at the stairs, hesitated, then tried again and ran inside.  I followed them up the stairs (flames were coming up through the metal stairs and between the slats of the deck) and into the house.  Inside the two guys were gathering up some of the belongings and I asked if anyone was still inside, they said that everyone had gotten out, so I told them to get out and followed them back outside. In that short time period the deck of the stairs was now in flames.

Standing watching the fire, I sent someone to call the fire dept as I still hadn't heard the siren. It was then I thought about the other half of the duplex(this is where we lived for over two years while we built the House) and asked if anyone knew if Adrian and Vicky were out. No one knew, so I went to check. After kicking in the locked porch door (mountie training does come in handy) I ran inside yelling.  Turns out they were home, also having a lazy day as I woke them from a late sleep.

With everyone out of the duplex and a crowd gathering there was little that could be done until the Fire truck arrived.  A couple of us moved a four wheeler from in front, which had already begun to smoke and char from the heat. 

The House became a gathering point for family and other onlookers.  There was no power in the neighbourhood because of the fire, so I passed out juice and ice tea until we ran out (no power - no coffee, tea, and the water pump doesn't work). Travis had been thoroughly scared by the whole thing and cried continually for about an hour until he finally settled down.  We had a long talk last night about what had happened, and he had a lot of questions, and in the end I think he still wants to be a fire fighter when he grows up.

The fire proved very stubbern (indeed the firefighters just left again after the ruins began smoking this morning again.  Part of the difficulties in the north is that there are no fire hydrants here. Fire trucks rely on the same water trucks that supply our domestic water. Only one water truck was operating until late in this game, and the fire would get beaten down, but then the fire truck would run out of water and the fire would gain the upper hand again, until the water truck could return from the four or five kilometre trip to the water supply. Had luck intervened in the form of a water truck being nearby early, about the time I arrived, the building might have been saved. Sadly luck was not on anyone's side yesterday.

So in the end, everything was lost.  Adrian and Vicky may have been able to salvage some things but for the most part two families have lost everything.  The likely cause? A visitor to Dwight and Julia's had a smoke on the steps.  He set down his cigarette and went inside briefly and when he came back out it was gone.  He thought nothing more of it and left.  About a hundred metres up the road they looked back and saw the boxes on fire, returned and got everyone else out. The truly fortunate thing is that no one was hurt.

Oh yeah, the Narwhal came into Victor Bay last night.

The aftermath

Here is a short video of the fire, after it had flared up again for the second time.

The "Terrible" Twos, I don't think so.

As incredible as it seems (at least to me, who apparently has been living in a time warp for two years) today marks the 2nd anniversary edition of I and the Bird (Number 53 iffin you're counting). It seems like only yesterday that I submitted my post on the Qarsauq (which, delightfully, I was watching and listening to yesterday. Er.. the bird not the post) to the first edition.  I was delighted that it was accepted, for it was the beginning of a long relationship with this premier Carnival on the web.

Even more importantly it marks the beginning of a friendship that I enjoy with Mike, the host of 10,000 Birds, and of I and The Bird. (Okay Mike, I know that now, technically you're one third of the hosts of 10,000 Birds but you'll forgive me if I think of it as yours). 10,000 Birds is always worth a stop, and I'm happy that for some reason he's felt the House is also worth one. Mike has always had kind words about this blog, which is, as far as I can tell, his only serious character flaw.

As always, you're bound to find several posts that you enjoy in this edition of IATB.  So, head on over there now, there is a lot to choose from.

The Bird not seen

One of the main advantages of a sun that doesn't set (probably second only to its value as a sleep deprivation experiment for those whose circadian rhythm hasn't been bludgeoned out of them by a life of shift work) is that one can get out and enjoy nature, regardless of what time the need overtakes them. So at 2:00 am this morning, still wide awake from being able to sleep in this morning, and freed from the need to look after the children, I decided to go for a walk, to take advantage of the beautiful, still, warm morning.

One of the things that I told myself I was going to do this summer was to find some Northern Wheatears (Oenanthe oenanthe), a bird that, although I've seen it elsewhere in the High Arctic, I've never seen near Arctic Bay. In fact, until last summer, I didn't believe they frequented this area. I had never seen one here, and I had been told by the former Wildlife Officer (the only other bird freak I've found here) that one needed to travel up near Lancaster Sound to find them.

Last year however, one of our clients, a cinematographer, found a pair nesting atop the hills behind the House. In fact he was on his way, by four wheeler, up the very steep hills to film the pair when he discovered that having $150,000 worth of camera gear strapped to your back while climbing a very steep hill by ATV puts ones centre of gravity in exactly the wrong place. Just short of the top of the climb, and the Northern Wheatear's nest, gravity took over and he, along with the ATV and the camera equipment, rolled ass over tea kettle aways down the hill.  Fortunately he wasn't seriously hurt, and he was able to call us, like a voice from above, to his rescue.

James, of Birdman - birds from Tanzania blog, always inquires after his Wheatears, for as impossible as it sounds, our Northern Wheatears could very well be the ones he sees every winter and spring. The Northern Wheatear is one of our two species (the other being the Common Ringed Plover Charadrius hiaticula) that migrates through Greenland, across to Europe, and then down to Africa, eschewing the well travelled route south through the rest of Canada and the United States.  So I was determined this year that I would make the effort, to try and find some Wheatear, if only to let James know that they are fine.

Around the long weekend this year the Tundra burst forth with flowers. It is a spectacular year for them so far.  There are more Arctic Dryads (Dryas integrifolia) this year than I can remember in past years, the tundra is a carpet of their beautiful white and yellow blossoms, in places they form dense clumps. I paused at the beginning of the hike, on fairly level ground, to grab a couple of quick photographs. Then I began to climb the steep track.

About three quarters of the way up I came to the sudden realization, accompanied by the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, that I haven't done any real exercise in a very long time. So, not wanting to lose any of the altitude I gained by clutching my chest, collapsing and rolling down the hill, I paused near a small patch of Arctic Heather (Cassiope tetragona) in full bloom.   Male Snow Buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis), the females all hidden on their nests, would flit near by, moving away the moment I reached for my camera, or pausing directly into the sun from me.  Backlight by the strong low sun, their feathers seemed more translucent than white, they would move off, pausing somewhere else to sing from a rocky perch.

At the top, or at least on the plateau I was aiming for, I paused again this time to admire all of Arctic Bay laid out below me. The Bay itself was like a mirror, and although many communities would be still at this time of the morning Arctic Bay was noisy with the sound of children playing, and four wheelers travelling around the community. Dog teams howled in the distance.  Capitate Lousewart (Pedicularis capitata) was plentiful up here, Wooly Lousewart (Pedicularis lanata) was also plentiful, it's blooms mostly finished now having bloomed earlier, with the Purple Saxifrage (Saxifraga oppositifolia).

I moved along the plateau, watching the Snow Buntings going about their business, pausing to listen for new birdsong, watching for the Wheatear. It was quieter up here and as I moved further afield, accompanied by the hordes of mosquito (Okay it was a single mosquito, but it followed me with the persistence of one of those stray dogs that adopts you on a walk, the one that joins you on your journey hoping that you'll share that sandwich it knows is in your pack). I began to realize that the Wheatear were going to prove elusive for me.

I started thinking that there was beauty in the bird unseen. For although I had started this walk with a goal to see one of James' Northern Wheatears, the journey had taken me through fantastic sights. Large Crane Flies lifted from the carpet of grasses and sedges at almost every step, small clumps of flowers grew among the rocks where it looked like nothing could live, hugging their small patch of soil with tenacity. Corpulent Bumblebees buzzed by, straight with some destination in mind. Glowing translucent Snow Buntings sang out pure joy, their mates secure on the nest. Blossoms of Arctic Dryads mingled with last years seed heads. Carpets of flowers framed a vista that many people only dream of seeing. To be sure there were no Wheatears, but seeking them replenished a wonder emptied from too long sitting in a house.

It was time to return home for some sleep. It was now 4:30 and there were clients needing breakfast in a couple of hours.  As I walked down the slope I could smell the fragrant smoke of a Heather fire that another early morning wanderer had lit, further down from me high up on the side of the hill. I quickened my pace, gravity was on my side now, and my bed was waiting.

Eight not so Random Facts

Amy, of WildBird on the Fly, has tagged me with the "Eight Random Facts" meme, in which I'm to blog about eight "random" facts about me, and then tag eight others. Now there is no way that these facts are random. In order to truly be random I'd have to write out all of the facts about me, good or bad, and then somehow choose eight in a random fashion, say drawing numbers or asking someone to call out eight numbers between one and three billion.  So, to be honest, I'm going to write things that show me to be interesting, erudite, or at the very least normal (all indications otherwise).  I mean I'm not going to write a random fact that I, oh I don't know, occasionally scratch myself in public or something along those lines.  So the challenge is to come up with facts about me that 1) are interesting, and 2) leave me looking moderately modest.

Hmm...

1) I was the first (and as far as I know the only) Civilian Member of the R.C.M.P's Underwater Recovery Team. At the start of my career with the RCMP I was not a police officer but a Civilian Member in a couple of Operational Communications Centres (think dispatcher but really so much more.)  I was also a SCUBA diver and took the opportunity to lobby for a position on the U.R.T.  I was successful, was allowed to apply, passed the selection course and was accepted onto the team, the only non-police member of it. Unfortunately a couple of ruptured eardrums put an early end to my dive career.

2) I am, arguably, one of the world's worst procrastinators.  Even some tasks that I know are really important and that not completing will end up biting me in the end, I can skillfully avoid.  I'll finish this explanation later.

3)  I wore a "watch cap" style toque all of the time for months in first year University.  I thought it would make me stand out. It did but that was not necessarily a good thing.  After awhile I realized that.

4) I've lived in four cities (Winnipeg, Montreal, Regina and Saskatoon), and six other communities (Roblin, Thompson, La Ronge, Rose Valley, Fort Providence and Arctic Bay). The places I've lived have ranged in size from 400 to over a million.  The ten communities were found in five provinces or territories (Manitoba, Quebec, Saskatchewan, Northwest Territories, and Nunavut). Except for where I grew up, Roblin, I've lived here in Arctic Bay longer than anywhere.

5)  I used to believe in ghosts, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and flying saucers visiting Earth.  I don't anymore.

6) Is this eight yet? Damn. Okay...One of my camp councilors from church camp ended up joining the RCMP as a Special Constable.  He was arrested and did time for breaking into warehouses near the airport where he worked.  I was one of his guards when I worked in a gaol before joining the RCMP.

7)  Every time I hear Warren Zevon's "Excitable Boy" it reminds me of W.L. from Roblin, who stalked one of our usherettes/candy counter woman at the Roblin Theatre.  One day the RCMP came to the theatre (where I worked) to tell us to lock the door until they arrested W.L. who had attacked his mother.  I was also his guard when I worked at the gaol.

8)  I own a banjo, a guitar, a tin flute, and a harmonica.  I can play none of them.  I always seem surprised to find out it takes work to learn to play an instrument.

Okay that is eight.  And as far as tagging someone, I'm going to pass.  If you want to, consider yourself tagged.  If you want to and don't have a blog, feel free to use my comments.

Breaking Up is Hard to do

Arctic Bay, the body of water as opposed to the Hamlet, has begun breaking up, about a week earlier than normal.  In of itself, one week is not a lot of time, but if you couple that with the four weeks that freezeup was late this season, that makes five weeks less ice this year than normal. 

Now normally we have freeze up mid-October and break-up around the 15th of July.  That makes 39 weeks of ice in a normal year, so five weeks represents a difference of over 12 percent.  And I know that one year taken by itself means very little, especially in a geological context, but it does give one pause.  Perhaps it is just a blip, perhaps it is more indicative of what the future holds for us in the Arctic, I guess only time will tell.

This is Arctic Bay at about 6:00 pm yesterday...

This is the same view at midnight...

And this is this morning around 9:30...

Much of the darker looking "ice" is actually broken up, or Floe Ice, and we've had no wind to speak of, otherwise much of this would be gone.