Entry #1: Sept. 21-23, 2018. Singing Sands of Bruce Peninsula.
My Wildlife Club group clusters among the scraggly dune grass. Whispers of “snake” ripple through those of us who haven’t quite caught up yet. We all walk a little faster. Being vertically challenged, I have to stretch to see the little ribbon snake woven between the fingers of my friend Bianca. The herpetologists are excitedly talking among themselves, identifying the snake based on markings and musk. Those of us with cameras get in as close as we can, trying to get the perfect shot. I laugh a little at the visual, a tiny snake surrounded by great gaping black eyes of the camera lenses on all sides.
We are visiting the Singing Sands of Bruce Peninsula, it’s ten degrees, and I haven’t slept properly in two nights. At this point, only the adrenaline from my swim in the icy waters of Georgian Bay is keeping me going, but I’m determined not to miss anything. The plummeting temperatures have kept me in a state of permanent restlessness during the darkest hours, shivering to stay warm despite my sleeping bag, two extra blankets, and three layers. Karolin, my friend on exchange from Germany, smiles at me on my way to breakfast that morning and asks how I slept. I tell her I didn’t and she smiles again, reporting that she slept quite soundly.
Despite the cold, fall is one of the most rewarding times to go enjoy the natural beauty of Canada’s rugged terrain, and maybe catch sight of a few critters. Not only are the leaves turning colour, producing some spectacular vistas, but the woods are blissfully free of flying insects, meaning you can traverse the woods without fear of being swarmed by mosquitos or blackflies. It’s also a great time for canoeing and swimming, many of the smaller lakes retain the heat they absorbed over the summer months. Unfortunately, Georgian Bay doesn’t really heat up — a lesson learned during my swim.
The group I’m with have no qualms about picking up anything that crawls, slithers, or hops, and there’s always someone clutching a pair of binoculars, ready to lift them skyward at a moment’s notice. Early fall is great for reptiles and amphibians. It’s the last chance to catch a glimpse of them before they go into hibernation. Snakes, being endotherms or “cold blooded,” rely on the heat of the sun for physical function. The cold forces them out in the open in order to absorb heat, but many of them are still slow due to the cold, making them easier to observe.
A cold wind blows across the sand, bringing storm clouds with it. I have to stop and pull out another sweater from my travel backpack, and struggle to pull it down over my two existing layers. Moving is now arduous at best. But across the dunes another group forms, and I throw my backpack over my shoulders and continue.
Photo by Cat Cooper