Reifel Bird Sanctuary
A couple of Sundays ago, I called up a friend.
“The snow geese are in town!” I said. “Let’s go check them out.”
And off we went.
Our destination was the Reifel Bird Sanctuary on Westham Island at the mouth of the Fraser River. My friend and her daughter are frequent visitors; they came well prepared with little bags of bird seed ― one for each of us. (You can also buy seed at the entrance for a dollar a bag.)
Within minutes of our arrival, we had Black-capped Chickadees eating out of our hand.
We saw a lot of waterfowl. Like these Wood Ducks.
And these American Wigeons.
American Robins, too.
There were Sandhill Cranes.
And my old friend, the Great Blue Heron, was there.
We did see our snow geese (a gaggle of them), congregated on a muddy field (as they are wont to do) just outside of the sanctuary. They attracted numerous photographers (a clique of them), all of us gathered on the road that bordered the field, cameras at the ready.
The Lesser Snow Geese spend their summers on Wrangel Island in the Russian Arctic and their winters in the Fraser and Skagit River estuaries. My friend lives just on the other side of the river from the bird sanctuary, and she told me the snow geese are frequent visitors to her daughter’s school. The kids have to be kept indoors on days when the snow geese decide they want to hang out on the school’s playing field. (Every Canadian knows what Snow Days are, but who knew there were Snow Geese Days?)
The George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary consists of 300 hectares of marshland in the Fraser River Estuary and is a key stop for birds migrating along the Pacific Flyway. Dykes are used as walkways, giving visitors access to much of the sanctuary, including bird blinds and an observation tower. More than 250 species of birds have been spotted here; prime time viewing is during the fall and spring migration. And with an admission fee of $5 per adult and $3 per child (annual memberships also available), it’s a cheap day out.
One last tip: Pay attention to the birders with the supersize camera lenses. Chances are those lenses are pointed at something you want to see.
Through My Lens: Nitobe Memorial Garden in the Fall
More than a year ago, I posted a photo of Nitobe Memorial Garden in all its spring glory.
Here it is in the fall. Glory.
Through My Lens: Zaanse Schans
To finish out the month, here’s a photo of the windmills at Zaanse Schans. Zaan is the name of the river that runs past the village and Schans comes from the Dutch word for “earthwork.” The Dutch are fond of moving earth, but what’s special about this one is it dates back to the Eighty Years’ War when the Dutch and the Spanish were going at it.
Zaanse Schans is a popular spot with tourists as it’s only a 15-minute train ride from Amsterdam and has several working windmills. Although I once spent part of a summer in the nearby town of Zaandam on my first-ever home exchange, this photo was taken several years prior to that visit, in late autumn.
A lovely corner of Holland any time of year, to be sure.
The Chan Centre
When I was blogging about spectacular European opera houses last spring, it occurred to me that spectacular Canadian opera houses are few and far between.
No matter. We do have some spectacular concert halls.
This is a photo of the Chan Centre. Located on the Point Grey campus of the University of British Columbia, it was designed by the Vancouver-based architect Bing Thom. Its main concert hall is shaped like a cello and the acoustics are state of the art.
This time of year, the Chan looks particularly spectacular.
Nelson Park
Stanley Park gets a lot of attention from Vancouver’s visitors, but it’s not the only park in Vancouver’s West End. One of my favourite parks ― so much so I try to walk through it each and every time I head downtown ― is Nelson Park.
Nelson Park is a small park, but it’s a busy park. Only one city block big, it shares that space with Lord Roberts Annex (a K–3 primary school) and its playground, which takes up about a quarter of the block. Several dozen community garden plots line the park’s walkways and the West End Farmer’s Market is held alongside the park every Saturday from May to October. Because the park is located kitty-corner to St. Paul’s Hospital and across the street from the Dr. Peter Centre (an assisted-living residence for adults living with HIV/AIDS), it’s not unusual to see patients making use of the park on warm, summer days.
But my favourite corner of Nelson Park is the fenced-in off-leash dog park, one of a handful in Vancouver’s West End. Walk past it after work any day of the week to witness Doggy Happy Hour ― complete with wagging tails.
Here is a photo of Nelson Park in all its fall glory.
Highway 2
A week ago today, I hitched a ride down Highway 2 from Edmonton to Red Deer with my brother and his family. As we left the city’s outskirts, I had some fun teasing my nieces that they were doing a good job of ignoring their old aunt. (Their noses were glued to their devices.) Even my brother was planning to spend the two-hour drive alone ― with his book.
No matter. Within minutes, I was enthralled.
Eventually, my brother, too. His book lay forgotten in his lap.
Someone once told me they thought Highway 2 was the most boring stretch of road anywhere in Canada.
I beg to differ. I think it’s the most beautiful.
Through My Lens: Capri
I can’t help myself.
It’s not like I need a reason to post a photo from Italy ― give me five minutes and I can come up with the slightest excuse.
Today’s pretext? Two friends of mine are on their way to the Amalfi Coast for what I’m sure is a much-needed and well-deserved taste of la dolce vita.
I took this photo from the top of the island of Capri in October 2002. That’s the Sorrento Peninsula off in the distance.
Salt Spring Island Fall Fair
Yup. It’s another cow.
And no, this hasn’t turned into a Bovine Blog.
I took these photos a couple of weeks ago at the Salt Spring Island Fall Fair. My friend had been urging me to come over for the island’s annual fair, which, she claims, is the social event of the year for Salt Spring Island.
“Will there be cows?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m there,” I said.
Salt Spring Island has a long history of farming ― the island was first known for its fruit harvests, then the dairy and poultry farmers arrived. These days, Salt Spring is famous for its lamb …
… and for its cheese made from goats’ milk.
In keeping with that history, the Salt Spring Island Fall Fair has been an island institution since 1896. This year’s theme was Celebrating Family Farming to coincide with the United Nations declaring 2014 the International Year of Family Farming. (I so wish I had made it to last year’s fair: its theme was Pirates of the Carrots and Beans.)
It seems like everyone on the island has something to exhibit at the Fall Fair ― from livestock to produce to baked goods to flowers to handcrafts.
Although the sheepdog demonstration was fascinating and the zucchini races were, um, unlike any race involving green vegetables I’ve ever seen, my favourite event was the sheep shearing.
The shearer showed us how shearing used to be done ― with a big, shiny pair of blade shears …
… and then he showed us how it’s done today ― with powered machine shears.
The Salt Spring Island Fall Fair takes place every September. If I’m feeling in a year that my blog needs more cow photos, I now know where to go.
Through My Lens: Irish Cow
Now that I have cows on my mind, I can’t resist posting this photo. This cow was happily munching away when I rode past her, again on a bike, but this time in Galway, on the west coast of Ireland.
(And no, I did not lie on the ground to take this shot — the road and pasture were at slightly different elevations, about four feet apart. At the bottom left of the photo, you can just see the top of the stone wall that lined the road my friend and I were cycling along.)
Echte Nederlandse Koe
I’ve taken the train from Paris to Amsterdam many, many times. One of those times, I spent much of the journey eavesdropping on the idle talk of a Dutch couple sitting behind. From the way they spoke to each other, I surmised they might be brother and sister.
I’m by no means fluent in Dutch, so much of their conversation was way over my head. Except for shortly after we crossed the Belgium–Dutch border, when the woman said something I understood perfectly.
Nu is ere en echte Nederlandse koe. (Now there is a real Dutch cow.)
I smiled to myself. Could a cow seen from the window of a high-speed train possibly look more Dutch than Belgium or French? Really?
Really.
I knew what she meant. She was home ― back in her own country ― and everything looked familiar again. Oddly enough, I’ve always had the same feeling when travelling to the Netherlands from somewhere else by train ― only because, out of all the countries in western Europe, the Netherlands is the most familiar to me. It’s not my home, but crossing the Dutch border always feels like a home-coming of sorts.
I took the above photo while cycling through the Dutch countryside just outside of the city of Arnhem ― only because these cows struck me as particularly fine-looking specimens of Nederlandse cows.
There and Back Again 