When I first moved back to the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, I started looking for places I could walk in Nature: forests, marshes, and meadows. Havens for birds and other wildlife that I might be fortunate enough to observe and study.
A particular gem turned out to be a small unassuming, easily missed park that consisted of a loop around several beaver ponds, through meadow, and along saltwater marsh. It was perfect; many people visiting Crescent Beach whiz past the terribly-signed park as they take the scenic winding Crescent Road into the seaside village. My fortune! Fewer people, I think selfishly. Those who I do meet in the park—an assortment of dog walkers and nature enthusiasts and mostly locals—are respectful and knowledgeable people who have taught me much about this park and its wild inhabitants and visitors. A park rich with song birds, waterfowl, raptors (owls, eagles and cranes), beavers and muskrats, small mammals, and even deer.
Elgin Heritage Park is located on the banks of the tidal Nicomekl River. The locals have shared with me that the park is a stop over for many migratory bird species. Spring and fall see thousands of them, feasting and resting on their way south or north. One of my favourite places to stop and observe is a boardwalk that crosses the largest of the ponds.
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The Boardwalk
It’s a partly cloudy day in early spring. I stop on the boardwalk and still myself, inhaling the wild beauty.
A mom duck quacks periodically, calling in her ducklings. Seven of them scurry to follow her, peeping with excitement. I catch a glimpse of a muskrat, chewing off an old cattail shoot; he eats the green part and takes the woody shoot home to build his nest. I hear the rhythmic bray of a bullfrog. Several swallows dip and sweep over the water, catching insects. A large dragonfly helicopters among the reeds. I spot a pair of diminutive green-winged teals, the male sporting his cinnamon-coloured head with sweeping green ‘brow’ over his eye. They glide then dip their heads in the water, feasting on a mix of aquatic plants and their seeds. A male blackbird—with distinct crimson shoulder patch—calls loudly. Konk-la-REEE! A local comes by and points out at least three blackbird nests in the reeds and I spot one attentive female flitting among the reeds.
After a few visits to this park, I decide to buy a pair of binoculars. There are far too many birds I need to see up close to identify. So far, I’ve identified (with help from the locals) the common mallard, common coot, green-winged teal and the blue-winged teal, northern shoveler, red-breasted merganser, American widgeon, bald eagles, and great blue heron—just to name a few. Songbirds I recognized (mostly from song) include the robin, red-winged blackbird, cedar waxwing, chickadee, towhee, hairy woodpecker, warbler, and my favourite (if I don’t count my eternal friend the robin) the Swenson’s thrush with its ethereal fluting song. I know there are many more birds to find and identify and I look forward to the hunt—once I get my binoculars, that is!
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The Lupin Meadow
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The grassy meadow on the north side of the pond was crowded with deep green hip-high shrubs with palmate-compound leaves; I soon recognized them as wild lupin. The flower heads were just pushing up and I vowed to return in late May early June for the show.
When I returned in late May and early June, I was treated to a vibrant display of various shades of purple, violet and brilliant blue. Lupins covered the rolling meadow in a deep violet-blue filigreed texture of stately spires. The meadow sang with buzzing bees. A pair of yellow western tiger swallowtail butterflies danced high among the trees then alighted on a lupin.
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The large-leaved lupin (Lupinus polyphyllus) is a perennial herb that grows from a branched rhizomalous stem-base. The inflorescence is a dense, stalked, terminal raceme of bluish to purple whorled pea-like flowers. By June, fertilized ovaries form softly hairy pods with six to ten seeds. Lupinus polyphyllus is native to western Canada. It’s not welcome everywhere; its growth in Eastern Canada, particularly in the Maritimes, is considered invasive, outcompeting the native lupin and being toxic to some local butterflies. In fact, if a human eats lupin in large quantities, they could suffer respiratory depression, sleepiness and even convulsions. So, don’t eat the seeds, even though they resemble little peas. The active toxins—concentrated in the seedpods—include alkaloids such as lupinine, anagyrine, sparteine, and hydroxylupianine.
Large-leafed lupins line the trail through Elgin Park, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)
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Lupin prefers a cool temperate and cool mesothermal habitat, thriving in infertile, sandy, and well-draining soils. They don’t like rich heavy soils, tending to rot in waterlogged organic matter. The large-leaved lupin is an early-season pollinator that helps enrich soil health because these deep-rooted plants fix atmospheric nitrogen, adding this necessary nutrient to the soil. I saw many bumblebees feasting on them. Lupinus polyphyllus is known to attract native bees and other beneficial insects with its delicious nectar and pollen-rich flowers.
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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. For the lates on her books, visit www.ninamunteanu.ca. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020. You can read her just released eco-fiction thriller Gaia’s Revolution by Dragon Moon Press.
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The Meaning of Water 