A forever thing

Twice I considered turning back. My footwear was marketed as a category of hiking shoe but the maker of these ankle-high lace-ups certainly wasn’t intending the wearer to be sloshing ankle deep through cold streams and soggy marsh in the closing days of November. In Canada no less. Even those better prepared, those with tall Wellington or barn boots—some I noticed enviously bearing the extra precaution of a woolen lining—still forded the water hazards that lay ahead rather nervously.

Worse was the threat of snakes. Hundreds of snakes.  My guide on Saturday morning was Stewart Murray, president of the Prince Edward Hastings Land Trust. For more than a decade Murray and the members of the Trust have been working through a minefield of bureaucracy, misunderstandings and disappointment that is, regrettably, a part of the quest in finding and buying a unique and special piece of land and setting it aside. Forever.

On this morning Murray, along with Andy Margetson, a director of the Land Trust, and naturalist and writer Terry Sprague, as well as more than a dozen others trekked the length of a 466-acre property that will soon become the Trust’s first purchase.

The Miller farm is a magnificent property. From Hilltop Road in South Marysburgh the simple track pushes through low damp land but soon opens up to clearing as the land rises and levels off. Here the remnants of a homestead farm can still be pieced together. A bit of foundation. A cluster of fruit trees. Likely a garden grew nearby. Just beyond the apple trees is small pond—dug as a source of water for the family and the animals that once grazed upon the land.

Past the clearing the soil becomes very thin—here the limestone bedrock is often exposed and scraped bare. Murray explains this geological formation is known as a rare alvar found only in specific parts of North America and Europe—often characterized by extremes in temperature and precipitation. It is habitat for a variety of birds ranging from common swallows to sawwhet owls and majestic golden eagles.

A few hundred metres on, the alvar gives way to large marsh. Once known as Petticoat Wetland due to its proximity to Petticoat Point, the marsh is now referred to as the South Bay Coastal Wetland, about 80 acres of which reside on the Miller Farm.

Among the “river of birds” that make the annual migration across Lake Ontario, for many species, this wetland provides a safe place to rest after a long flight or build up strength for the journey ahead.

It is here the conviction of the scribe is tested. The bold push through seven-foot-tall reeds into deeper water, toward an unclear destination. Murray assures me we are close. So I go on, each soggy step questioning the wisdom of the choice. But soon we are on a stony beach— gazing toward an empty horizon.

Bernie Gray used to say the south shore of Prince Edward County was among the most wild and undisturbed bits of the world he had ever encountered in his thousands of miles in a kayak. Standing on the beach at the bottom of what will become the Miller Family Nature Reserve it is easy to understand what Gray was on about. One might as well be on the ocean— as far as the eye can see is water. Behind us the marsh is still.

The Prince Edward Hastings Land Trust has made a good purchase. The goal is to restore the land, as much as possible, to the way it was when pioneers settled here. There are many invasive species of tree on the property but by examining timbers used in some of the early structures and other evidence they hope to nurture original species here.

Once the land enters the Trust it will permanently remain a protected property, free from any form of development.

“It is a forever thing,” explained Murray.

The Trust found support from the Nature Conservancy of Canada and the Ontario Heritage Trust in order to fund the purchase price. But before the deal closes in January the Trust has committed to raising $85,000 for a stewardship fund to ensure that the reserve can be maintained in perpetuity. So far they have raised $45,000 toward their goal. Margaret Atwood advises that in order to protect our rural, cultural and natural heritage we must love the place in which we live. What better way to demonstrate our passion for Prince Edward County than supporting this effort to take 466 acres of some of the most typical yet breathtaking bits of the County and setting them aside? For our children and for generations we will never know.  Now, about the snakes. Milk snakes can grow up to five feet in length featuring blotches of brown and beige on their wriggly backs. Contrary to the popular belief that inspired its name, the milk snake doesn’t (and physically cannot) latch onto the udder of cows. Brown snakes are smaller, growing only to about a metre in length. Garter snakes most have encountered in yards and lanes.

We didn’t see any of these snakes in our walk on Saturday—this detail I gleaned from the Internet. Murray said hundreds of varieties of slithery serpents had, however, been sighted earlier this year on a nearby seasonal road—many were roadkill but others very much alive—basking in the late fall sun on the roadway. Just so you know.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca