A few of you may remember the Dionne Quintuplets. Five little girls: Yvonne, Annette, Cécile, Émilie and Marie who were born in May, 1934 just south of North Bay. They became a sensation as the first quintuplets to have survived their infancy.
My parents were so enamored that they planned a holiday just so that we could visit the homestead.
In the bird world it is not unusual for five and sometimes many more chicks to be born.
Here is a look at two very good parent Canada Geese teaching their brood of five about life in the Don River.
Canada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicks
At one point the chicks were led onto land and then practiced re-entering the river:
Canada Geese and chicksCanada Geese and chicks
Species list: mallard, turkey vulture, hairy woodpecker, downy woodpecker, northern flicker, blue jay, black-capped chickadee, red-breasted nuthatch, winter wren, gray catbird, American robin, veery, blue-headed vireo, red-winged blackbird, brown-headed cowbird, Baltimore oriole, northern cardinal, American goldfinch, swamp sparrow, song sparrow. (20 species)
This morning’s group on this 9 degree, overcast and windy day.
Park scenes:
Pebbles in the river
The Red Trillium is in flower here:
Red Trillium (Trillium erectum)
as is the very minty smelling Ground-ivy:
Ground-ivy (Glechoma hederacea)
Other botany:
Japanese Knotweed (Fallopia japonica)Scilla (Scilla forbesii)Coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara)Silver Maple (Acer saccharinum)Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadense)
NATURE POETRY
Tewkesbury Road by John Masefield
It is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.
And to halt at the chattering brook, in a tall green fern at the brink Where the harebell grows, and the gorse, and the foxgloves purple and white; Where the shifty-eyed delicate deer troop down to the brook to drink When the stars are mellow and large at the coming on of the night.
O, to feel the beat of the rain, and the homely smell of the earth, Is a tune for the blood to jig to, and joy past power of words; And the blessed green comely meadows are all a-ripple with mirth At the noise of the lambs at play and the dear wild cry of the birds.
