Looking Out Over The Bog Before The Storm

Fall colours and peaceful river near Huntsville.  (photo by Fred Schulz)

LOOKING OUT OVER THE BOG - ON WALKS THROUGH THE DAY

     If you were to stand up on this thin ledge of treed land, overlooking the graceful hollow of The Bog, initially, you would probably only hear the distant roar of a jet, landing at the Muskoka Airport, the parade of dump trucks on the way to a construction site down the road, or maybe the buzz of some woodworking device, that a neighbor has employed to sand off a rough surface.

     After awhile, and maybe a little longer, through the prevailing urban din of progress, and day to day living, you would gradually, subtly begin to hear the truly pleasant, natural sounds of the water course, traveling from east to west, and down to the level of Muskoka Bay off in the distance. The thin black creeks criss-cross and snake around the thick matted mounds of old grasses, and small shrubs, against a backdrop of thick, uneven evergreens, lined-up on the far shelf of land, where an old country lane is still visible from its earlier days as a connecting farm artery.

     The more patiently the voyeur watches and listens, the greater the natural noises arising from this brown topography, dotted by curious, storied trees, remembered from childhood, and old dried cat-tails wavering in the wind gusts now rising from over the lake. The confluence of these thin creeks, gurgling in their invisible declines, inch by inch, downward from the most easterly boundary to the west, forming tiny cataracts when the distance of the fall is greater, and the damning of the flow more severe.

     After awhile, the many sounds that can be identified to a source area, become a chorus with all other curious tinkling, and rustling, engaged in and around the hollow of the wetland. What at first seemed so tranquil and silent, amidst the urban sounds, proves quite the opposite domain, especially now, at this time of the year, when the run-off is at its peak. The snow and ice are still in evidence in pockets across the small acreage, and in a small swirling pool, directly below where I'm standing, the tiny shards of newly broken ice, clink together like porch wind-chimes. Even in its dull, early spring attire, it is a beautiful place….a thriving eco-system, readying itself from thick roots, to bud forth into the sunlight……but the lack of sun so far, and the cold temperatures, have delayed its greening-up, with frost still retarding the soil's ability to absorb moisture and daily warmth.

     The play of light and shadow upon the expanse of wetland, is a treat for the artist and photographer, benefitting from the stark contrasts, and dramatic changes in illumination, as morning passes, and the afternoon sun emerges for several hours, to engulf all the wide open places. The wind rustles together the cat tails, and brushes lightly against the matted field grasses, where the mice have been emerging and retreating for the past few minutes. The neighborhood crows are complaining from the tops of hydro poles, and a grey squirrel is vibrating its tail in warning, while our two resident chipmunks scurry beneath the fallen pine…..a casualty of a past winter storm.

    When a spring rain hits this brown hollow, later this week, it will herald the first of many profound changes here, of which I plan to be its daily witness. In a matter of only a few weeks, the transition will be profound, and the first ferns will push strongly out of the damp, leaf-layered forest floor, in their tightly wound springs…..the length and breadth of fern that will open gradually toward the light source; and make, in their own re-animation, this forest and lowland appear so exotic and enchanted, to the travelers of these few well trodden down paths from here to there. Strolling mindfully out onto a platform like this, to look out on this thriving corner of the wider Muskoka hinterland. By mid summer, the fireflies will sparkle over the tall ferns, that can be as high as five feet, and the sounds of the tiny creeks will be almost inaudible, in the hush created by this high plant enclosure. You might walk through here one evening, and startle the deer, who lay beneath these umbrella ferns, on hot summer nights….but will rear-up and spring powerfully to safety, if danger is perceived.

     There is a soothing solitude here today, standing out on this lookout over The Bog, hearing the wind pushing across the lake, and sensing the first mist of rain drifting overhead. Even in this dull attire, soon to be transformed by the likelihood of freezing rain, and snow, it is a vista full of life and enterprise, as trillions of critters tend their chores, in the advancement of seasons. When I think about the possibility, this amazing parcel of land, was nearly lost to development interests, several years ago, it does chill the heart, about the collateral damage of being irresponsibly progressive in the urban sense of expansion. Thank goodness, the plan was thwarted, by citizens who refused to sacrifice a wetland, for another row of houses…..another block of condominiums. What a tragic loss it would have been, if this today, was another forest backdrop for paved driveways, the wood, glass and shingles, of more dwellings…..their two car garages and propane barbecues…….instead of this natural oasis of life rejuvenation, one remarkable season and  year, after year and so on.

     Thanks so much for taking the time to visit this humble blog, offered to you by an old "watcher in the woods," and a truly fine nature photographer, Fred Schulz, of Gravenhurst.