Wildlife

Wildlife – September 9, 2009

One of the joys of traveling by sailboat is intimate contact with wildlife. You travel slowly and quietly, with natural movements allowing both proximity and time to appreciate. The Great Lakes and connecting waterways are a paradise for birders, fishermen and wildlife lovers in general.

Among the perquisites this trip has delivered is learning the language of ducks. In particular, the morning voice of mother ducks trying to round up their ducklings for the day’s training, getting their ducks in a row if you will.

At first light, the mother duck will begin with a quack reminiscent of army drill sergeants. It is a basso profundo quack with a definite grumpy quality, repeated at 5 -7 second intervals until the troops are in formation.

If that doesn’t work, said mother drill sergeant will let fly a flurry of expletive quacks starting a high C and ending with a B flat, emphasis on FLAT. This will be repeated with much flapping of wings and general complaining until the ducklings have moved out as a unit with military precision.

Then there are the geese. Canada geese, like fungi, are ubiquitous in northern waters. It’s difficult to believe they were once on the endangered species list. These noisome creatures are notable for their effluvium, making mockery of boater’s marine sanitation devices. Goose excrement, like geese, is everywhere.
And if, as many paleontologists believe, birds are descended from the dinosaurs, one would deduce that herbivorous dinosaurs were NOT the benign, placid creatures of the Pleistocene. If, like geese, they were aggressively territorial, one can only assume that T-rex had his claws full trying to get a meal.

Maritime visitors included a bumblebee who dropped to Whisper’s deck about 8 miles from land, poor little fella. Exhausted, he curled up in a ball and went to sleep. For several hours he didn’t exhibit any signs of life. In fact I thought he was dead. I had to exercise great care moving about the deck to not disturb him.

After what seemed an eternity he stirred, first one antenna, then a wing, then he shook himself off and stood up. After giving me a good look up and down, he rose into the air, circled once as if to say thanks and took off for God knows where. I worried for his safety. Could he have reached land? Doubtful, but what could I have done for a bee at sea?

The canals have provided ample wildlife encounters as well. As mentioned in other posts, floating wood debris are a hazard in the Erie Canal. One stick, however, seemed to be moving contrary to the current. As Whisper turned, the stick turned too. I went forward for a closer look, my first thought being water snake or perhaps eel. What I saw was a squirrel, eyes bulging in terror, swimming with all his might across the canal. What would motivate a squirrel to cross the canal? Is one side more desirable than the other? Was there something, a Mrs. Squirrel perhaps, that he was trying to escape? Whisper slowed, letting the squirrel pass ahead, no canal kill for dinner.

An overpowering message of this trip is the ability of nature to recover, to overcome the insults of man. The environmental movement has certainly helped to rid the Great Lakes of pesticides like DDT and other forms of pollution. Control of development has allowed reclamation of vast areas of shoreline. Nature herself is a powerful force and, if given a chance, she can heal the earth from wounds we have inflicted. If only we will allow that.