Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Gray Jays


Gray Jays are amazing birds – smart, friendly, and curious. I have had the privilege of working on a long-term study of them over the past month and the coming few weeks. The study has been possible because of Dan Strickland who has been color banding the birds and finding their nests for 40 years here in Algoqnuin Provincial Park. There are about 25 territories that are monitored each year along the only road through the park, though this number used to be much higher.

These birds are especially amazing because they nest during this time of year, while the weather here is still consistently below freezing, and large snowfalls are not uncommon. Anytime from late February through early April, Gray Jay pairs will begin building their nest against the trunks of balsam fir or spruce trees. Their relatively large nests are lined well with cotton (provided by us researchers when trying to find their nests), feathers, lichen, grass, and other soft materials to insulate them well. They are well protected from snow and rain by the above branches. Sometime in March or April, the females gain half again their normal weight and lay a clutch of 3-5 eggs. After all the eggs are laid (one per day), she will start incubating. She will sit on the nest for twenty days, with occasional very short breaks for food. She will remain on the nest through snowstorms and very cold nights. When clutches finally hatch, it will still be months before most birds begin nesting, and even before many migratory birds have returned to the northern forests.

The secret to these birds success lays in their food storage abilities. Gray Jays compulsively cache food, and remember the locations of their caches, so they have food available year round. It is believed they nest during the late winter/ early spring to enable them the most time to cache food for the coming winter. By finishing nesting in April or May, they are able to spend the entire summer and fall collecting and storing food.

This technique, however, seems to rely on the presence of conifers, especially that of black spruce. In his years of observation, Dan Strickland has witnessed a trend of increasingly hardwood-dominated forests in the park, and a correlated decline in Gray Jay territories where conifers have declined the most. This type of forest change has been observed and predicted as a result of our changing climate. Another pattern has been that of warmer, and more fluctuating, fall and winter temperatures. This change is hypothesized to cause more of the Gray Jay’s food to rot, meaning they have less to support nesting. That such a hearty species as the Gray Jay has been so significantly affected in the past 30 years is very alarming. Many species likely have similar direct ties to the composition of the forests in which they live and the temperature patterns, and global changes to our climate that alter these affect them directly.

Gray Jays are not about to go extinct because of these changes, but these birds will start disappearing from the southern limits of their range. Known by many names – Canadian Jay, Whiskey Jack, Camp Robber – these birds are well known in the northern woods. It’s important to recognize their potentially fragile place in our ecosystem, no matter how steadfast their presence may seem.


Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Low Impact and Comfortable


Recently I have really started to appreciate how easy it is to live a low impact lifestyle comfortably. I recently took a NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School) course doing winter camping and backcountry skiing in Idaho and I am now living in a cabin in Algonquin Park in Ontario that does not have running water. Prior to these two experiences, I didn’t expect winter camping or living anywhere without running water to be something I could do comfortably. I’ve happily found that I can be very comfortable in both situations.

Winter camping is a lot of work, but can be really fun and one’s impact is minimal. All of the water we drank and used to cook on the course was melted from snow. Because of the amount of work that went into making water, we all learned to use it sparingly (even keeping pasta water to drink, though only with the addition of cocoa or lemonade mix). We discussed some of the advantages of the backcountry lifestyle on the course, and what really struck me was the difference in water use from the front country. The statistic we learned was a person uses 40 gallons of water per day in the front country and 1.8 in the backcountry. This difference is astounding, but very believable.

The cabin in which I am now living in Algonquin Park has electricity, but lacks running water. I have come to really enjoy not having running water, because it keeps me thinking about water use all the time. Five-gallon jugs filled nearby serve our water needs, and make water use easy to control. In order to get a sense of my water use here, I watch how long it takes to use one five-gallon jug. Using this measure, I have been using about two gallons of water per day. This water is used for dishes, cooking, and drinking (not for my infrequent showers). I was most shocked by this level of water use when I recently used a real bathroom (instead of the outhouse in the woods behind the cabin). A water efficient toilet uses one gallon per flush. That’s half my current daily water use in one flush!

I don't think everyone should, or would enjoy, or has the means to start living in cabins without running water, but I think it is in everyone's power to think about all of the things they live with and consider a necessity, and ask themselves what things really are. 


A Night Sky

There are times when I become completely trapped in mind – most often this happens when I start missing some time gone by. This evening I had a strong case of this (compounded by finishing a good book) so took to my normal solution – a walk. I put on my iPod with some favorite slower songs, bundled up, and walked to a nearby bridge/dam. Standing above the rushing water, I looked out across a frozen lake at the moon inching towards the trees. I sang the songs I was listening to, I thought about times past, I continued to feel a little sad. After the cold started to seep in through my layers, I stepped back onto the road and looked up at the stars. I slowly circled in place and could see the full sky. And as I circled, I stopped thinking about anything else, and just felt awed by the stars. By my comparative smallness, by the earth’s comparative smallness. And I felt happy because I was part of this giant system. (written 3/14/13)