Flying Underwater

One spring, as the north end of the Lake of the Woods began to thaw, I headed out into the open water in my canoe. The distance I could go was limited by the ice. Where there was the slightest current, that was where the ice melted first.

As I explored the sections of open water, I noticed a single duck swimming some distance away. When I paddled towards it, the duck moved away ahead of me. The channel slowly narrowed, until it was no more than six feet wide.

Since it was a duck that I was not familiar with, I kept paddling slowly towards it in the hope of identifying it.. As the distance narrowed, the duck suddenly found that it no longer had enough open water to take off in.
I expected it would hop up on the ice and take off from there.

To my surprise, the duck simply dived underwater and disappeared. Because of all the ice, the only open water was behind my canoe, so I looked down into the water to see if I could find the duck. Within a few seconds I saw the duck about ten feet below my canoe and it was moving swiftly through the water by using its wings as if it were flying.

I had seen many ducks and loons dive under water but they seemed to use their webbed feet to propel themselves. In this instance the duck was flying in the water, similarly to the way it flew in the air, with its wings fully outstretched. I watched as it flew below the canoe and then popped up behind me in the open water. From that point it quickly ran across the surface of the water and took to the air.

The ease with which the bird moved through the water was impressive, as it seemed to move effortlessly but with speed. The entire demonstration took place in a matter of seconds, but I was able to identify it as a male Common Goldeneye.
　
　

Saved by "A Flash of Light"

I was directing traffic in Banff, Alberta, one day, at a minor traffic accident, when a passing motorist rolled down his window and asked, “Was anyone hurt in that accident where the car went through the guard rail and down the cliff?” “What accident and where?” I enquired.

I quickly obtained a good description of where the accident occurred, thanked the driver for the information and waved him on.

Once the damaged cars had been cleared from the intersection, I got on the car radio and contacted the dispatcher in the Calgary sub-division. They had no reports of any accident as I described. At that point I contacted the Canmore Detachment, as the accident scene was in their area. They had no knowledge of the accident.

I carefully explained where the accident was located in the mountains, on a very sharp curve, where there was a very steep drop off down the face of the cliff. The key was to look for the any damage to the guard rails.

Within the hour I heard radio traffic and realized they had found the vehicle with the driver still in it and a rescue was taking place. After that I was distracted with other duties and did not hear any additional details.

About a week later I was on the phone with the Canmore Detachment on another incident, and when I was done I asked them about the accident where the car went over the cliff.

I learned that they had a great deal of trouble locating the car as there were no tire marks and no damage to the guard rails. The vehicle could not be seen by anyone standing on the road at the point where the car went over the edge.

The driver of the car that first reported the accident to me, was very careful to point out that he noticed the wrecked car only because the sun was reflected off the windshield, when they were about a half mile away and approaching a u-shaped curve. They were at the top end of one side of the curve and the wreck was at the top end of the opposite side of the U.

It took some time to realize that the car could only be spotted for a second, in one specific place on the highway, some distance away and down the side of the mountain. Many spruce and pine trees hid the vehicle. Both before and after passing that point, it was impossible to see the wreck.

Eventually tire tracks were found in the dirt, where the vehicle had gone between the guard rail posts without touching any one of them. The car dropped down the steep slope about a hundred feet and became lodged on its side between the mountain and the base of a large pine tree.

Mountain climbing gear had to be used to lower a rescuer down the side of the mountain to the car.
It was discovered that the male driver was still alive in the automobile, and terrified to even move. Because the car was on its side he was sitting on the driver’s door and looking down through the glass, to a the bottom of the valley, very far below.

Each time he tried to move, his weight shifted the car and it seemed about to fall down the steep cliff.

Later it was determined that he was not paying attention to the road, but was enjoying the scenery, lost control of the car and went over the edge, but was saved when the car jammed between the tree and the cliff.

The rescue of the driver took place many hours after the accident had occurred, and at a time when he thought he would never be found. He yelled for help but could not be seen nor heard. He would probably have died, long before he would have been found.

Recovery of the car was even more difficult and all traffic on the road had to be halted for a number of hours until the job was done.

The man was saved only because a very observant driver saw "a flash of light" off the windshield and realized it was a car. He assumed it was an old accident but spoke to me only because he was curious about the details. I was too busy at the time to get his name, but I did follow up on the report and was happy to hear the driver was saved.

Mountain Driving at Night

One very dark night I was driving my car from Banff, Alberta, and heading for Calgary. The old highway I was traveling on clung to the side of the mountain, with a steep drop off to my right and a cliff to my left. The road wound back and forth with many curves that did not allow any distractions.

There was no other traffic in the beginning, but eventually I was passed by a brand new 1955 Buick on one of the few straight sections of the road. I was driving a 1953 Hillman convertible which had trouble with the hills, but handled the mountain curves with ease.

As the miles passed, I would catch up with the other vehicle on the curves, but then fall back on the straight sections, which were few. Normally I do not like following another vehicle, but it was such a pitch black night I appreciated the lights of the car ahead, as he gave me warning of the direction of the curves.

The miles were sliding by, until we ran through a serious of sharp curves, during which I caught up. We then reached a straight section of the road which led down a slight hill.

Suddenly, with no warning, the tail lights of the other car came on, in what was obviously a panic stop. I immediately applied my brakes and the two cars skidded in unison down the highway. I can clearly remember seeing the smoke curling up from behind each of his rear tires as he was skidding. Almost at the same time, the Buick smashed into something on the road, and a short distance later, came to a full stop.

I managed to get my vehicle to stop with less than ten feet separating our vehicles, but I stalled the engine. The headlights on the Buick were knocked out and just the tail lights remained on.

I got out of my vehicle and as I walked forward, the other driver got out. I asked him what happened but he did not know what he had hit. All he saw was a dark object on the road just before he smashed into it. Steam from his broken radiator was leaking out in the cool night air and it was very difficult to see. The other driver was not injured but he was quite upset.

There were no towns or even homes in this area of the Bow River Valley, so it was pitch dark in every direction. As I had a flashlight in the car, I went back to get it, so we could check the damage.

When I came back with the flashlight, we examined the front of the car and found the entire front end smashed along with the hood and fenders. We found blood on the road and it led to the edge of the highway and then down into a steep ditch.

I suggested that he had hit an elk, since they were numerous in this area of the mountains. When I grabbed the flashlight I had also grabbed my service revolver, in case we had to put the injured elk out of its misery.

My flashlight was not very bright so we proceeded slowly, down into the steep deep ditch. Once we were safely down the slope I shone the light on the other side of this very dark ditch.

It took a second for it to sink in, just exactly what we were looking at in the puny beam of light. Standing upright with both front legs spread wide was the biggest black bear I had ever seen. Its mouth was open, its eyes were glaring and blood was dripping from the jaws.

In one motion, the two of us spun around and climbed out of that ditch with record breaking speed.
As we ran up onto the highway I took a quick look with the flashlight to see if it was following us. While still running, I saw the bear fall backwards on to the far side of the ditch bank and lay still.

It took a few moments for us to calm down and get our hearts beating at a somewhat normal rate. Then I slowly moved back around the front of the smashed car and checked out the location of the bear. By this time it was lying motionless on its back and the eyes were closed. We waited some moments to make sure it was not breathing before we checked it up close.

The bear had died from massive injuries, but had enough strength left to stand up as we jumped down into the ditch. It was probably as frightened as we were in the last seconds of its life.

We left the Buick with the tail lights on and set out some warning reflectors before I drove the owner to the next town where he could hire a tow truck. I continued on to Calgary and was quite wide awake for the rest of the trip.

The next morning on my way back to Banff, I stopped at the scene, but everything had been cleaned up, including the bear. I found out later that some local Indians had removed the bear and made use of the bear meat, and in particular the bear claws.

Snow on the Ground and talk of Flooding.

Just returned from snowshoeing on the trail through our woods. It was -15F this morning, but had warmed up to zero when we hit the trail. The recent cold weather and cold winds dampened any enthusiasm for snow shoeing until today. We have had a number of snow storms so all the trails need packing down.

I measured the snow depth in the woods and it averaged eighteen to twenty inches.

On the edge of the woods the blizzard winds have made drifts three to four feet in depth.

We are hardly half way through this winter and talk has started on the subject of flooding in the Red River Valley. It can snow a lot in the next few months, so I believe flooding is a sure thing.

We sit about thirty miles east and 117 feet above the Red River, on an old sandy shoreline of  ancient Lake Agassi, so we are in no danger. That does not mean that we are not sympathetic to those people who's homes sit in the flood plain.

For the rest of the winter, every new snowfall is only going to make it worse, and a lot of snow can fall in February and March. Colder weather and more snow is forecast.

Bow River Valley - Canoe Recovery - Part 3

Read Part 1 & 2 first
Once I had a chance to review my situation, I realized that I could use the tree at the end of the gravel bar to get to shore, over the fast river current. The tree however was half in the water and the branches made it difficult to climb onto. I dug out my hatchet and cut a number of branches off, and as I did so, I saw the tree lift a little out of the water. At that point I chopped off a large upper section of the tree and the removal of that weight allowed the tree to spring upwards, so that it no longer lay in the river.

Earlier I had tipped the canoe over and removed all of the water. I could now lift the canoe across the gravel bar and onto the side closest to the river bank. I carried extra rope, so I attached a long piece to the nose of the canoe. I carried one end of the rope as I crawled across the tree and onto the shore.
At that point I was able to walk upstream and pull the canoe across, without it hitting the last tree.

I decided that if I could find the paddles I could continue my trip, so I started walking downs stream, checking the banks. As I walked around the next curve I found a paddle jammed into some brush along the shore and was able to reach it. I continued further, looking for the second paddle, when I came to a shocking sight.

Blocking the entire river was a huge log jam built up with at least fifty big logs. The jumbled pile was eight to ten feet higher than the water, with some logs sticking up even higher. The entire river rushed under the logs and came out on the other side as a mass of foam. I stood there transfixed by the sight.

It did not take me long to realize that if I had not swamped my canoe, I would have had no chance to survive the encounter with the log jam. I would have been sucked under the logs and pinned there and drowned.

I suddenly felt much better about the dunking I had experienced.

As I walked back to the canoe, I decided that the river could hold similar surprises down stream and it was a good time as any to call it quits. Once back at the canoe, my change of plans meant that I had to move the canoe and equipment from the river, nearer to the side of the mountain.

I explored the area and found another creek. I had to drag the canoe some distance but was soon back in calm waters and moved closer to the mountain. I did not hesitate to leave the canoe and equipment, as I had not yet seen anyone since I passed the trout fisherman, some twenty five miles earlier.

The climb up the steep side of the mountain was difficult, but I managed without the need of any climbing equipment. After about an hour, I reached the Trans-Canada Highway and got a ride with a local trucker into Banff. The driver made it very clear he thought I was crazy to have run the river in a canoe and thought I was very lucky to get out with just a dunking.


After a warm shower and a good night’s rest, I was back the next day to recovery my canoe and equipment.
I had my dried out camera so I took photos of the river where the mishap occurred, and during the recovery of the canoe and equipment.
　

The steepness of the terrain made it impossible to carry the canoe, so I hauled it up the steep incline by using a long rope. I tied the rope to the nose of the canoe and then carried the rope up and around a stout tree, some distance uphill.

 I then went back to the canoe and with the rope end in one hand and the other hand on the canoe, I moved it up hill. The rope prevented the canoe from sliding back down the hill, until I reached the tree. I had to repeat this many times but eventually moved the canoe up the side of the mountain and to the highway and car.

Once the equipment was in the trunk and the canoe was on the car-top carriers, I was on my way down the highway, back to civilization.

Bow River Valley - Swamped by a Sweeper - Part 2 of 3

Read Part 1 first.
I got off to an early start the next morning. After a hearty breakfast, I soon had the tent down and all the gear packed and ready to go. Once on the water, the miles of mountain scenery began to slide by endlessly.

As the hours passed, the river got narrower and deeper, and began to wander back and forth from side to side in the valley. The bends and curves got sharper, so it was impossible to see what was around the next curve.

The water runs swiftest on the outside curves and much slower on the inside. The current is constantly cutting away the bank on the outside curves, and caused trees to topple into the water. The slow inside curve builds up the gravel. When I could, I stayed on the inside of the river bend, where I had more control of the canoe.

Eventually, I approached a curve where the river made an abrupt u- turn to the left. I endeavored to maneuver to the inside of the turn but the current swung the back end of the canoe around so that I ended up going sideways, down the middle of the river. It was at this time I caught sight of an undermined tree lying across my path, but still anchored to the right hand bank.

These are known as sweeper trees.

There was no way I was going to be able to paddle to my left and get around the end of the tree. Only the tip of the tree was in the water. The trunk of the tree was suspended about eight inches off the surface of the water. I could see that I was going to hit the tree with my right side, and I could expect to be swept out of the canoe and into the river.

At the last minute I leaned to my left so that the entire right side of the canoe would hit the tree, rather than go under it. There was not much else I could do, as I braced for the impact. The canoe hit the tree and stopped instantly. The river water simply rose up on the left side and poured into the canoe, filling it in an instant. The swamped canoe sank and rolled under the tree upside down. I went along for the ride.

I followed the canoe to the surface just in time to see a second similar tree blocking the river. The canoe easily rolled again, under the tree. I ducked underwater and followed. As we came to the surface the canoe was pointed down the river but floating upside down. As I started swimming after the canoe, I noticed my cap was floating down river with me. I reached over and grabbed the hat and put it back on. It seemed the sensible thing to do at the time.

When I caught up to the canoe, I grabbed onto the back end, and rolled it right side up. It was filled with water and just the gunnels, or sides of the canoe, showed above the surface. Up ahead I could see a gravel bar in the middle of the river and managed to steer the canoe to it. I climbed up on the gravel bar and dragged the canoe up high enough so it would not be swept away.

It was at this moment that the shock of the ice cold water hit me. I stood on the gravel bar in the middle of the river, shivering with the cold. My hands were stiff as I awkwardly removed my shirt and pants. Once I’d rung out most of the water, I put them back on.

Still shivering, I checked the contents of the canoe and found that I had lost both paddles, but everything else was still securely packed. I dug out my camera from the packsack and saw that it was still there but rather damp. I rewound the film into the cassette then opened the camera to drain out the water.

Note - I was able to get the film developed and printed at a later date, but most of the photos were watermarked, as can be seen in some of the earlier photos. The rest of the photos were taken with a dry camera the following day, as I recorded the site of my dunking.

This photo was taken the next day, looking back up river, and shows the two trees I went under with the canoe. The curve I came around is to the right middle of the photo, behind the two small pine trees.

This photo shows a third tree, with the gravel bar to the left of it. This tree was lying in the water, but still anchored to the river bank. The river was rushing past on each side of me so fast, any attempt to swim to the shore would simply have swept me downstream.

Since I had lost both paddles, I could not use the canoe. I was stuck on a gravel bar in the middle of a fast flowing river. I had a problem.

Continued in part 3.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Bow River Valley - Canoeing - Part 1 of 3

When I lived in the mountains at Banff, Alberta, I vowed that some day I would make a trip from Lake Louise to Banff, a distance of about forty miles, by running the Bow River in a canoe. The river is fed with melt water flowing from the mountains and glaciers, all along the Bow River Valley.

The opportunity came in August of 1961 when I was 26 years old. It was a gray day, but I was committed, no matter how the weather turned out, as my window of opportunity only gave me three days. I planned to make the trip by myself and had camping gear in order to stay out overnight.

Early one morning, I put my canoe in the river near Lake Louise, and headed down stream. The view from the water was spectacular. High mountains sat on either side, with thick evergreen woods down their flanks. The trees were thick along each river bank, with nary a road, a trail, or the slightest sign of civilization. This entire area sits in the middle of Banff National Park and every effort is made to keep the area a pristine wilderness.

The river starts out rather wide, swift and shallow. The current is too fast to paddle against, so the run down river is exhilarating. The swift current limits the work with the paddle to steering, and in particular to avoiding rocks and dead trees.

After about fifteen miles the river narrows and becomes very winding. The valley flattens out, the river is deeper, and it is difficult to see what lies ahead, around each new bend. The entire course of the river is complete wilderness, as it has been for hundred of years.

During my journey, I only saw only one other individual. He was a trout fisherman standing in hip waders, in a long, swift, shallow rapids. He was facing down stream, so he did not see me coming, until my canoe suddenly raced by him. Just as he cast his line, I yelled a friendly “Good morning”, and left him standing with his mouth hanging open, and a shocked look on his face.

The river has the occasional small creek leading into it from valleys on either side. The water in them had ceased running, once the spring run-off was done. They allowed me to paddle away from the river and set up camp in an ideal quiet spot. The only road in the valley was the new Trans-Canada Highway. It ran parallel to the river, and higher up on the side of the mountains, some distance away.

Just before dark I set up camp, took a few photos, then ate, and climbed into the sleeping bag. I was looking forward to completing the second half of my trip the next day. I was soon lulled asleep by the sound of the rapids nearby.              Continued in Part 2.

Mid-winter Photography

It is very easy to set aside the camera during the winter months, and wait for warm sunny days. In Northern Minnesota that means four our five months will pass without taking a photo. I make a point of taking my camera with me during winter outings and keeping my eyes open for subjects that would make an interesting photo.

Last winter I was driving out in the country and passed and old fence line that had seen better days. Long grass and weeds struggled to stay upright in the deep snow. The fence wiring was rusted and stained the old posts. It’s useful days are over. I stopped and took two photos and moved on. Days later I checked out the photos on the computer, and was pleased to see they looked even better than I expected.

The beauty of a digital camera is the fact you can take all kinds of photo and simply delete the poor ones, without having to pay to have them developed. When I first got a digital camera I acted as if I still was using 35 mm film and only had 24 shots available. Back in those days you rationed out your shots, so that you did not run out of film. Now that I have made the transition to digital, I end up taking fifty to a hundred shots on an days outing, and that increases my percentage of successful photographs.

Frozen Ham on the Track - Part 3 of 3

Read parts 1 & 2 first.

The Railway employees wanted to bulldoze the damaged vehicle off the track but common sense prevailed, and they agreed to help unload the trailer with their section gang.

When the trailer was empty it was lifted into an upright position, which aligned the frame of the tractor at the same time.

When the wreck was off the track the section gang instantly went to work to re-align the tracks and open the right of way.

During the recovery process it was observed that a number of people were slipping away to hide hams in the trunk of their vehicles or hiding them in the woods for later recovery. It was at this time all work was called to a halt and all the individuals that were working at the scene were called together.

It was explained to them that the driver of the truck was responsible for the first $500.00 damage to the tractor and an additional $500.00 dollars damage to the trailer.

Since all the hams were frozen rock hard, not one of them were damaged but a number were missing.
It was pointed out that the first $500.00 worth of missing hams would be paid by the drivers. At this point recovery and reloading of the hams continued and when it was completed all 1,760 hams were accounted for.

All the damaged equipment was recovered and hauled to Thunder Bay. The Section Gang re-aligned the track and the main line was quickly re-opened to railway traffic.

Frozen Ham on the Track - Part 2 of 3

Read part 1 first.


Strange as it may seem, the front wheels of the tractor stayed on the ground but the duel drive wheels stayed with the trailer and ended up in a vertical position. The frame of the tractor was badly twisted.

The twisting of the tractor frame caused the cab to unlatch so that when the vehicle came to an abrupt stop, the cab fell forward with the driver behind the wheel and the co-driver still in the bunk. As the front of the cab hit the ground, the co-driver’s window was impaled by a guard rail post. Had anyone been sitting in that seat, they would have been killed instantly. The two occupants of the cab walked away from the accident with a few bumps and bruises, and a sense of utter amazement when they looked at the cab of their vehicle.

Not only was the main line of the Canadian Pacific Railway blocked by the accident, the tracks were seriously out of alignment and would have to be repaired before railway traffic could continue. A passing car contacted the police, who in turn notified the trucking company and railway that the line was blocked with wreckage.

The trucking company advised me of the accident and we arranged for another truck to offload the cargo and another tractor with a lowboy trailer to recover the damaged truck.

The railway soon had a Section Gang on the scene, ready to repair the tracks. They were unable to start work until the wreckage was out of the way. Nothing could be done until all the cargo was moved by hand, from the damaged trailer, into the replacement trailer.   Continued on Part 3

Frozen Ham on the Tracks - Part 1 of 3

In 1963 I was employed as an Insurance Adjuster at Thunder Bay, Ontario, which is located on the north shore of Lake Superior. One of my first accidents I received, was to investigate the roll over of a tractor and cargo trailer many miles west of town. It was also my responsibility to recover the tractor, trailer, and the cargo, then report the circumstances of the accident to the insurance company.

The truck was loaded with 1760 individually wrapped and frozen hams. One man was driving the truck while the second was resting in the sleeper portion of the cab.

As the truck approached a sharp left hand curve in the road, it was traveling at an excessive rate of speed and came close to leaving the road. It almost went through the guard rails and into a steep ditch on the right hand side of the road.

Once around the curve, the driver was faced with just as sharp a curve, but in the opposite direction. The trailer started to tip to the left and at the same time the loose cargo shifted to the left as well.

The trailer fell onto its left side, then slid forward until the leading edge of the trailer snagged on the railway tracks.

The force of the loaded trailer pushed the tracks out of alignment, but at the same time the tracks stopped the trailer from sliding any further.

The main Canadian Pacific Railway line was blocked              Continued on Part 2

The Hades Islands - Lake of the Woods, Ontario

The first photo is a view of a small area of the northern section of the Lake of the Woods in a normal winter. The lake is frozen with at least a foot or more of snow lying on top of the ice.

This little adventure is about two young men from Winnipeg, Manitoba who wanted to go snowmobiling on the Lake of the Woods in Northern Ontario. It took place in early November of the late 1960’s. They drove a 1953 Chevrolet and towed their snow machine behind the car in an old wooden trailer with high sidewalls.
Four brand new winter tires had just been mounted on the vehicle, so it had great traction on ice or snow.

They proceeded south of Kenora to the Long Bow Lake road, and followed it to the east shore of the Lake of the Woods. Conditions on the lake were very unusual because it had not snowed since the lake froze over. Normally, after the lake freezes, enough snow falls to insulate the ice, and then it takes many weeks of cold weather before the ice is strong enough to drive on.

When they reached the lake they discovered bare, slippery ice. Vehicle tracks, leading down to the lake and onto the ice, left by people ice fishing, showed the lake was safe to drive on. With little hesitation, the pair drove their vehicle onto the ice, along with their trailer. They were now able to drive anywhere they wished, and decided it was not necessary to unload their snow machine.

Once out on Bigstone Bay, they headed west into an area of a few dozen small islands called the Hades.
Local maps showed a boat channel led from Bigstone Bay westward, through the island and out into an even more open portion of the lake.

They were quite comfortable in the vehicle and had removed their jackets. Our two adventurers were quite please with the fact that they could drive where they had planned to ride their snowmobile. Not another person was in sight and they had the whole expanse all to themselves. They were normally summer time visitors so they knew a little bit about the area, but this was their first winter excursion.

When they were about five miles from the mainland and in the middle of the Hades Islands boat channel, the front wheels of the car suddenly broke through the ice, and the car started to sink. As the front of the car slowly settled into the water they found that the doors were pinned shut by the ice.

Without wasting any time they rolled down the windows and climbed up onto the roof of the car. The trailer with the snowmobile was heavy enough to slow down the sinking car. The two occupants slid down the trunk of the car, and crossed to the trailer over the tow bar. They jumped into the trailer, which by this time was standing in water and slowly being drawn into the open hole, by the weight of the sinking car.

They quickly dragged the snow machine off the trailer and onto thicker ice, away from the open water. They watched the car disappear, followed by the trailer. At this moment they were at least five miles from the mainland, which lay to the east.

Acting quickly, they got the snow machine running and jumped on. Without any jackets, gloves, or hats, they were thoroughly chilled in no time. Because of the cold, they could not run at full speed and had to throttle back so the cold wind was not so brutal.
By the time they reached an occupied cabin where they could seek warmth, they had frostbite on their faces and hands.

In the aftermath of the experience they sadly learned that they had driven onto thin ice because the current in the channel passed over a large reef and that brought warmer water to the surface. This helped keep the ice from freezing more than a few inches thick

The reef was plainly marked by a buoy which was just ahead of them when the car went through the ice.
Later, the trailer broke free from the car, and floated to the surface, and was salvaged. The value of the car made it uneconomical to hire divers and a recovery crew.

This channel was the regular route of the Argyle, a large tourist ship, that gave daily cruises around the lake in the summer months. The car, where it lay, was now a hazard to boat traffic.

Early in the spring , the local Department of Transport tug, that regularly serviced and maintained all the buoys and markers on the lake, checked the channel. Rather than raise the car, they hooked onto it and dragged it into deeper water, where it now rests.

At various times some individuals talked about diving down and salvaging the four new tires. It was never done because they could never figure out how to unbolt the tires without them surfacing with great force and injuring the diver.

The latter two photos show different views of the channel. These photos were taken some days after the event, when snowfall covered the ice. The darker object is a person on a snowmobile, while the lesser object is the buoy. The ice was thick enough to support the snowmobile and driver. None of the cabins visible in the photo were occupied at the time of the accident.

It's the Nature of the Beast!

When you own a singular breed of dogs for over thirty years, you learn to understand the different types of barks, howls, and whines. When your hear barking of a different kind, it obviously means something new.

One late afternoon in the fall, I realized that the three dogs were barking in our woods some distance to the northwest. It was a frantic barking and they were very excited. I dropped what I was doing and headed for the sound, to see what all the fuss was about.

As I drew near to the commotion I started calling out the dog’s names in the hope of bringing them to me. My chief concern was the possibility that they had discovered a porcupine and would be on the losing end of the exchange.

The bush was very dense and it was difficult to see more than ten feet ahead of me. I cautiously approached and continued to call the dogs but no one paid any attention to me. I could hear branches and small trees cracking and then the loud growl of a bear.

I stopped where I was, as I had no intention of walking into the middle of three dogs and a bear fighting.
Slowly backing away I kept calling the dogs and then realized that the commotion seemed to be coming towards me. I learned long ago that Norwegian Elkhounds will instinctively drive game towards the hunter.

Not wishing to have a bear driven into my lap, I began to work my way through the thick woods to the western edge, until I was able to step out onto a plowed field. I could still hear the crashing of branches and the occasional deep growl of the bear trying to warn the dogs off. The commotion continued to follow me.

As I stepped out into the field, the three dogs managed to drive the animal right to me. Suddenly, a large cow moose and her 6 month old calf burst out of the wood almost on top of me. The mother was doing a great job, staying between the dogs and her calf.

No matter how hard the dogs tried to nip at their heels the big moose spun around, to face the attacking dogs, knocking down small trees and branches. She would charge at the closest dog but, as Elkhounds are want to do, it nimbly jumped out of the way, while another dog attacked.

When everyone was out in the open, the three dogs ran over to me with tails wagging, no doubt expecting praise for a job well done.

Once the moose saw me, they turned and headed north across the field, alongside the woods. They both looked in prime condition and showed no signs of injury.

I was able to keep the dogs from following, so the four of us, panting and out of breath, headed for home.

I have never heard of a moose growling before. In fact I cannot ever recall reading or having been told that a moose can growl and sound exactly like a bear. She certainly convinced me a bear was in the woods nearby.

A Man and his Dog.

On one particular day in August of 1966 I was in the town of Dryden, Ontario, on business, when I came upon the scene of a serious traffic accident. It was between a pick-up truck and a dump truck.

Dryden sits on the south side of the Trans Canada Highway which runs east and west. Between the highway and the town, and running parallel with the highway, runs the main line of the Canadian Pacific Railway. A bridge was built over the tracks as a safety measure because of all of the traffic between the town and the highway.

I was driving north over the railway bridge and as I reached the highest point, I could see an accident had occurred at the intersection of the bridge road and the highway, directly in front of me.

After parking my car I walked around the wrecked vehicles and the intersection. I talked with a number of people who had witnessed the accident. I also took a number of photos. The driver of the pick-up had already been taken to the hospital where it was determined he had died instantly in the collision.

The driver of the empty dump truck reported that he had been going north, towards the highway, and after he came over the crest of the bridge, he found he had no brakes.

It had been his intention to stop at the stop sign, and then turned right to leave town. This was a T intersection so he had to turn left or right. He pumped his brakes continually but the truck would not slow down. In fact the bridge slope caused the truck to pick up speed as he approached the intersection.

A pick-up truck with camper on the back was pulling a small house trailer and was heading west. A cedar strip, canvas covered canoe was on the roof of the camper.

The husband was driving, and had his large black Labrador dog with him in the front seat. His wife was riding in the house trailer. It would appear that the pick-up driver did not see the dump truck coming from his left. If he did, he had no time to apply his brakes or avoid the collision.

The dump truck smashed into the left front corner of the truck and punched it into the north ditch. Both vehicles then came to a stop, side by side, when they hit the bottom of the ditch. The trailer smashed into the back of the pickup that was towing it, and was torn open. The canoe tore loose from the roof of the pick-up and landed in the ditch in front of the vehicles.

The dump truck driver had minor injuries and walked away. The woman in the trailer was injured but she survived the accident

The driver of the pickup was killed instantly. His left leg had a compound fracture and the upper leg bone was exposed. It showed it had been fractured some time in the past as it had steel plates and screws holding it together. The dog was killed instantly, and was lying in the ditch beside the canoe.
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The truck driver was found responsible for the accident, for failing to stop at the stop sign, and for failing yield the right of way.
　
It was another terrible example how a life can be lost in a matter of seconds, without warning.

On a Fresh Trail.

The year started with a blizzard, so the drive home from the New Year Celebration was not pleasant.

The driving snow made visibility very poor, but bad as it was I could not help thinking about snowshoeing.

The high winds have a tendency to strip the snow off the fields, but it builds up in the woods.

Saturday was spent digging out the walks and cleaning the long driveway. The next day, Mya could hardly wait until I strapped on the snowshoes and headed for the woods trail.

The fresh snow added four or five inches of new snow but the packed trail underneath made for easy travel.

A snow storm wipes the slate clean, so that any new animal tracks show up easily. I noticed that the bush rabbits had packed down some of their main trails but nothing else seemed to be moving about.

We opened up about half a mile of the main trail and then came back the same route to pack it further.

In the days ahead we will open the other trails as time and weather permits. In spite of the high winds the snow continues to build up on the logs and trees that are leaning, or are on the ground.

While snow is commonly considered white, to the eye of the painter, blue in various shades is the main ingredient.
　

It's for the Birds!

If you love the outdoors, you have to appreciate the wildlife. At this time of the year you need to take time to keep your feeder stocked with the proper food.

This morning it was 13 F. below. Very cold mornings are a critical time for birds, particularly Chickadees. They must find food quickly or they can expire, after a long cold night.

For years I fed sunflower seeds to the birds in my part of the world. As time went on I learned that oil sunflower seed were better than the confectionary sunflowers seeds.

A regular observer of a bird feeder can not help but noticed that Black-capped Chickadees will fly to a feeder, pick up a sunflower seed, then fly off to a safe perch to eat it. First they must pierce the hull and then extract the seed. This can be a rather difficult job in cold weather and with a frozen seed.

Woodpeckers have a similar problem. They will take a seed away, and then stuff it in a crack in a tree and only then can they remove the shell and get to the meat.

Small billed birds such as the American Goldfinch, Common Redpolls and Juncos have a similar problem.

Many years ago I helped the woodpeckers in particular, by using my circular saw to cut grooves in the birdfeeder deck. The woodpeckers caught on right away. They take a sunflower seed, jamb it in the groove, and then can hammer away the shell and get to the seed. This eliminates the flying back and forth, wasting time and energy.

You can buy shelled sunflower seeds but they are very expensive. Another option is to use your household blender to chop up the seeds. Do not overdo it. The idea is to just break open the hulls for easy access.

The best solution is to buy sunflower seeds from  a sunflower seed processor. One is located in Halma, Minnesota. They sell sunflower seeds to commercial bakers. In the cleaning process they are left with broken seeds they clean from the prime seeds. They sell the left over seeds for $14.75 for a 50 pound bag.

In the two photos enclosed you will note that most of the hulls are gone. Small birds just stay on the feeder platform and eat away until they are full. Woodpeckers do the same thing.

Your feeder will be a lot busier. The birds will stay to eat, so they are easier to observe and to photograph.

Some local stores in your area may stock these particular seeds but you need to check it out. The product is produced by KITT-SUN SEEDS INC, Halma, Minnesota. Family Foods in Lancaster stocks them.

I am in no way associated with the company. I just know a good product when I see one.