Coming (Slowly) Out of Winter

March - the "Mucky Month"

Tentative Migration

These are early days yet. Very early days, but on Monday we had a visit by the first Common Grackles of the year who appeared in our garden, checking the feeder-food for quality and quantity, and overseeing the smaller species from high in a birch tree. Not quite the first returnees of the year for this species as a couple of birding friends posted nearby sighting on eBird a few days earlier, but the first that we saw. They are very smart birds with their glossy heads and the gimlet Ancient-Mariner’s eye and I always enjoy their return as a good sign of things to come … but equally I know that it won’t be long before they lose their charm due to their customary behaviour of swaggering around putting the menaces on everything they encounter.

Things are quiet … everything is waiting for the time to shine. The bird rush is still a month away but some signs of greenery would be nice. We have the snowdrops but not much else. Well, in sunny moments, perhaps this confused fellow trying to catch a few rays:

… and have you noticed the Starlings are everywhere again?

Shriek of the Week: Starling

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A Parable for Modern Times

The village, just on the margins of a large city, was reached via a road that, let’s face it, was hardly one you would go out of your way to admire—potholes, cracks, and an overall lack of maintenance marred any claims it might ever have to beauty. Some of the residents, proud of their own village homes, decided it was time to do things better … a small group envisioned transforming the road into a welcoming path that would shine at the end of the region’s hard and cold winters. It would be lined with bright spring flowers which would include daffodils with any of similarly cheerful plants that were native to the area. With care and coordinated communal effort, because these projects always need some coordination to turn fine words into action, the first season saw patches of yellow scattered along the edges, a hopeful promise of the transformation to come. Everyone took photographs for their albums and family blogs and Facebook (of course) while local school children and sports clubs were persuaded to “adopt” sections to maintain.

The daffodils thrived. Over time their golden splashes painted the road's margins in an ever spreading carpet, attracting tourists and locals alike. Inspired by the success, some of the villagers began to imagine an even grander legacy for their road. They planted trees. Saplings at first, of course. Ones that their children would see grow into majestic oaks and graceful maples. Shade for future generations to shelter under. Visitors took away ideas for their own gardens and communities. Some visitors even came from distant lands and eventually reproduced the concept back home with their own, very different, local flora. Books were written and documentaries made.

With each passing season and generation, the road became more enchanting. The flowers multiplied, and were joined by other spring flowers mysteriously planted by seeds on the wind and the hands of guerrilla gardeners and squirrels. The trees, grew tall and proud, their branches stretching overhead in a wide canopy that danced in the breeze. Birds nested in the branches, their songs mingling with the rustle of leaves.

The village became famous. Learning about the importance of biodiversity, hedges were added along the roadside, which offered shelter and sustenance for the local bird population. Over the years, the hedges thickened and more species infiltrated - sometimes aided by the seed planting activities of squirrels and Blue Jays and became intertwined with wild roses and flowering vines, All this was nature aiding the people by naturally adding more and more valuable natural habitats for birds and small animals. Bees and butterflies were everywhere.

The road was a testament to the power of community and stewardship. Visitors marvelled at its beauty, enchanted by the flowers, trees, and birdsong. Decades, and not a few generations, passed, but the village commitment somehow endured. Each spring, the daffodils bloomed anew, a reminder of the village's dedication to its natural heritage. Trees continued to grow, casting dappled shadows on the road below. Generations of birds raised their young in the hedges, ensuring their songs would echo through the generations. The road stood as a living testament to the transformative power of collective action—a beacon of beauty and biodiversity for all who passed.

All it took was imagination and patience and time.

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The Power of Plants

There is a very good short article on the website of the Royal Society of Biology this week entitled It's time to teach the power of plants properly. Should you have worries about biodiversity preservation (you probably would not be here if you didn’t) then I commend it to you as an interesting read. Here is the link.

https://thebiologist.rsb.org.uk/biologist-opinion/teaching-the-power-of-plants

The article includes a note that “Biology educators have long bemoaned the lack of reference to plants in the curricula of both schools and universities. Neither the importance of plants for sustainability, nor the threats facing many of them, are adequately represented in science education.” It goes on to say that there is “a failure to communicate the relevance of plants to our lives … “

“Plants are not boring, school botany is”.

Finally, this is important and fits neatly with the theme of this 1001 Species Newsletter, which is to promote awareness of local nature …

… ‘nature connectedness’, a contested term that aims to measure an individual’s affinity with nature, arising from regular, high-quality interactions with it, and which ultimately leads to the development of pro-environmental beliefs and behavioural change. Plants of course provide an excellent opportunity for developing nature connections, since wild plants are ubiquitous in even the most built-up environment.

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Small Miracle in the Greenhouse …

I had a surprise half way through the week. Early last December there being only a few barely alive green vegetables in the greenhouse, I turned off the heating, put floating fleece covers over the plants “just in case” and retired indoors for a drink and to sit out the winter. Compostable green matter for the spring I was thinking. Winter came, the plants were unwatered, unfed and unloved. Temperatures feel to below -20C some days. On Tuesday I noticed from the thermometer in our mud-lobby that the greenhouse temperature was briefly about +10C and wandered over for a look-see. I lifted the row covers and there, standing upright (if not exactly tall and soldierly) were lettuces, mizuna and kale. They have some growing to do but we can start to look forward to fresh greens in due course before the beds have too be cleaned out and prepared for the 2024 new crop tomatoes, peppers and aubergines.

Didn’t expect that.

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Wildlife Garden Plant Options

Recently, I posted a short article about early planning if you intend to convert at least part of your garden to one managed for birds and bees and butterflies. It was, of course, rather superficial information intended to start the thinking process but I am happy to try to answer specific questions should you wish to get in touch. This time I want to do a quick fly-past on the question of suitable plant choices - noting that my garden is in a zone 5b location in southern Quebec. There will be equivalents suited to our own area that should be easy to find - these are suggestions.

Plant choice - Try to select plants of different heights and ideally something for each season. Asters, golden rod, echinacea, rudbeckia form the backbone. After which, it’s up to you – last summer we did a count and found that we have already acquired about 50 species in our “mead” . The bees and butterflies come to the flowers while, mostly later in the year, birds get fat on the seedheads which we leave standing in fall and winter.

Important – if you buy a so-called wildflower seed mix, look carefully at what it contains. You do not want any species that will not thrive in your particular area yet many such mixes are not tailored to specific climatic areas but are all purpose. It’s cheaper that way. For example, a mix that was spread in a public area I visit, and one that was from a reputable seed company, contained California Poppies. Very attractive plants that flowered beautifully the first year but, let’s face it, the California climate is quite different to Montreal with its long, cold, and snowy winters. Not surprisingly, those flowers did not work their magic again in subsequent summers. Remember too, if starting with seeds, a good number of species will not flower in their first year of growth.

There are certain hardy and easy to grow species that are absolute must haves for this sort of gardening. For the spring, grow low flowering plants such as Pulmonaria and (say it quietly, because they are non-native) violets that look nice and attract early emerging solitary bees. For later in the year turn to the big guns like the several species of Golden Rod, native Asters - plenty of species of these to choose from. One most reliable aster is the New England Aster but be aware that it grows quite tall once established. Then there are Rudbeckia and Echinacea (coneflowers). Search the internet for more ideas, but these are all easy to establish and grow. If you can settle in some bloodroot (Sanguinaria) please try. Lovely flowers, and almost always the first to appear after the snow when they are very supportive of native bees.

A psychologist (sorry, I didn't record the name), wrote

“More than just keen observers of time, gardeners are real-life Time Lords, able to speed up time by working in the garden, and, later, to slow it right down by sitting back and surveying the fruits and flowers of their labour. Some gardeners are even able to step out of time altogether, working year round to create Arcadian moments of perfection.”

Not totally sure about “Arcadian moments of perfection”, but we are pleased with the way things are working out – a never-ending project. You will too once you have started.

That will do to be going on with. Know that:

“I would have written a shorter letter, but I didn’t have time.”
- Blaise Pascal, 1657

On Friday, as I was sitting back with my post-breakfast coffee (for the record it was a black Americano (aka café-allongé here, in Québec), made with fresh-ground Vienna blend beans from Murchie’s) this article popped into my in-box. I like this writer’s work - she does a nature column for The Times as well as having a couple of good books under her belt, so she’s a pro-nature writer. I very much enjoyed it. Maybe you will, too?

It's just the sun rising