Aspen Valley Wildlife Sanctuary

Spring for a change, from a visit today to the Aspen Valley Wildlife Sanctuary, near Rosseau, with Audrey Tournay. You don't necessarily plan on these things. Life happens when you're thinking of other things, an echo from John Lennon. Audrey was a schoolteacher in St Catherines when in the mid '60's someone gave her two orphaned skunks. "They're almost as nice as beavers, and funny too." Now it's 400 skunks later, and only skunked 8 times. It took a few more years and buying an abandoned farm to set her on her way. A vet from Parry Sound kept dropping over with various adorable wild animals he'd doctored, but not yet strong enough or old enough to get back to the wild. No one, Audrey found, not the government nor any other agency would care for them. So she wound up doing the job herself on her 800 acre farm. All sorts of animals, mostly local, some exotic like a lion she has now from BC, that grew too big for a pet. Animals with hard luck stories, the majority not injured like you might expect, but young and orphaned, parents killed by cars, but mostly by hunters. Bears for instance, about 90 today in a woodland pen, black and brown, really the same species, even born together in the same litter, are common guests. At about 18 months they go back to the wild. Documentary film crews have showed up for the emotional moment. Deer, wolves still, though with so few now, they're mating with coyotes who've moved north, even with dogs. Audrey's is part coyote, as it happens. Like her other friends, from around 200 in the spring to a thousand by fall, her dog found her too. And just about any other wild animal in these parts, from raccoons, to deer and owls. Audrey never turns a wild animal away.

Beavers are Audrey's favorites. Any current resident would make himself at home in your lap, and do in hers when pint-sized, feeding and nuzzling. Since they're to return to the wild, close human contact is kept to a minimum. They're as wonderful as Grey Owl says they are, the one who used to be a trapper and lived around Parry Sound. His cabin was loaded with them, very sociable and unstoppable. Can't sit still for a minute unless they're sleeping in your bed. If you're a cottager, they could wind up gnawing your furniture. See the Aspen Valley website on how to deal with furry and feathered visitors, in a kindly way. There's a downloadable pdf, Living with Wildlife. Animals should be respected and protected. With a little understanding, they'll mind their own business, even bears.

Deer are still a delightful sight, prancing across roads and highways, so always be prepared to stop in cottage country. At Aspen Valley, unlike many zoos, they're happy here. For one thing, they're in the country, and penned in very large woodland enclosures, and that only for a time, so they can go back into the wild when they're big and strong enough. The Sanctuary is open to the public from Victoria Day through Canadian Thanksgiving, admission by donation. It's a great outing for kids and not a commercial venture. Bring a picnic lunch and roam around. Visit some animal friends. It's amazing to be able to get close to them. Over the years, as more wild animals have descended, still with no other place to go, Audrey's had to expand. Fortunately through donations and sponsors, but still no money from the government, she's been able to hire a small staff and enlist some volunteers. They're an enthusiastic lot, usually a half-dozen students from Germany, Switzerland and England, some returning year after year. It's the enchantment of the wild and wide open spaces and of course the animals. If you're a cottager, staying for the summer, check out the Sanctuary's nature study courses for your kids. Drop in and see Audrey, a great and gracious lady. She's an artist and storyteller too, inspired by her bears and beavers.

Small Town Hassles And Scandals

Spring. Parry Sound, Coast Guard Station. A modern statement, rather at odds with the old town and the beaches. Trees were planted on the Waubuno Beach side, but they're still not big enough to screen an architect's lack of imagination. Here at least there was a need for a modern facility and it serves Georgian Bay and its ships and boats well. But functionalism can get out of hand. One aesthetic mistake leads to another. Like in the New York subways where the stations and trains, never pretty, were vandalized by graffiti artists and remarkably the more damage the more crime. It took an astute commissioner of the Transit Authority to figure out the connection based on an academic paper on a new theory of urban decay. Vandals plant seeds of lawlessness, when they deface an environment, the Broken Window Theory. If you don't fix it, that signals no one cares and it's alright to break another one and another. Whole neighborhoods go up in flames thanks to neglect, but first because they're often an eyesore to begin with and an easy target for distressed people. Quick cleaning and repainting, replacing even cracked windows in the subway system actually reduced crime considerably. But it's an uphill battle. Same goes for our big and small towns. What happened to them anyway? These charming towns we remember. Was there a war? Concrete parking lots covering nasty craters from all the shelling? A nice neighborhood crushed by a Seniors Rec Center and concrete condos. Condos in the country? A giant ugly hospital sold for a song to a big city developer who turns it into a slightly uglier retread for a condo complex. This make any sense? Sure. We needed the rec center, depressing though it is, and we need more condos because there's a housing shortage and prices are high and I suppose this will keep them high. A lot of prime land available too, and nothing gets done. The only place for kids to go, the ones who throw rocks, is the hockey rink and church bingo. So they get into trouble or leave town, just like in the movies. Is there some sort of anything goes business and politics in bed together, or in a small town, a game of Monopoly where a few high rollers call the shots? Looks like it anyway.

Spring. Parry Sound, Seguin Bridge and Tower Hill. Why not a charming bridge over an idyllic river? Everyone can draw up a long list of eyesores and missed opportunities for any town. In a small town you can't miss them. They're everywhere. Not much discussion or input on anything in most of them, just like in big city alienation. With big city thinking applied to small towns, from malls to strip malls, to dumb ugly buildings, people get the idea that's all you're going to get. The reminders are everywhere. A minor hassle like no real downtown which big city visitors love and the locals now miss. There was one until the malls came. Shopping, apart from the basics, is an exercise in futility. Try to find any shoe that fits at any price. One shoe store in town and plastic leather everywhere else. A nice friendly coffee shop? Closest thing open is at the mall food court or the Drive Thru. The old town newspapers used to be concerned. Not so much now. They've been bought up, imagine, by media giants. Their local flavor is the local advertising. What they splash on page one is Council Agrees To Hike Parking and Water Main On South Street Needs Repairs. Inside on page 3, some harmless gossip everybody knows anyway masquerading as human interest stories, and sensational articles like Fall Is The Time For Canning. Anyway, who do you know who does canning? In Parry Sound it's Crofter's, the jam factory. Good jam too, organic. Even mango. It's not that warm here, if you're looking for a mango tree. Globalization, from California. Though, what the local rags are good at is flooding the towns with flyers and free guides and magazines that give you 5th graders' reports on all the fun tourists and locals can have, with hardly a word of useful or honest information, but plenty of wall-to-wall paid advertising. No wonder that cottage lakeside life in the Muskokas is the big thing and many small towns are treading water or slowly going under.

Shoehorned Into A Tourist Brochure

Summer. The Muskoka Resort Experience. It's one way to smooth down those big city jitters, shoehorned into a tourist brochure. Ahh, the good life. The satisfaction rating is 90%. I know from friends who work in the industry. The other 10% gripe all the time about everything, usually to get an upgrade, a discount or a freebie. Mind you an oasis of grass in the woods, does depend on its own infrastructure, and is subject to things like storms that knock out power, so no TV, no Internet, even cell phones can go dead. Water can start to gurgle out of your tap and go rusty brown, cold and brown and trickle to a stop. Toilets don't flush. The local fauna can also intrude. A strange animal in the night scratching your window, a creepy nerve wracking growl, a friendly mouse scurrying over your bed, and especially in spring, wasps, mosquitoes, blackflys and noseeums can find their way in. Even with all that, spring is as busy as summer, and if you don't have a reservation, you could spend all night and all day looking for another place. Accommodations vary greatly. In keeping with the cottage theme, you can get bungalows masquerading as double cottages, or strips of motel units dolled up like the royal stables, or in the better spots a real cottage of your own, or at the lower end a corner of a 4-plex cottage or maybe a cottage suite with Muskoka room they didn't explain, wasn't cottagey, except for the Muskoka room, and not in the woods but in the reception center, the actual hotel part. All this can be forgiven once you're there, especially if they give you an upgrade, a discount (very rare, so don't make a scene) or a freebie. Another thing that can knock your socks off is the high end pricing for everything extra, whether it's orange juice and a bag of chips at the tuck shop, or of course the restaurant, where you can't say no thanks to the prices. Beware the ruinous game of golf at their club, usually somewhat discounted since you're a guest. And there are rules. If you've rented a powerboat, your resort might not let you dock it. They're noisy after all. If you're thinking of dropping in on another resort down on the same lake say, well their guests come first, so wait in line or don't bother because they're very exclusive. Even with blazer and captain's cap and your yacht in tow many won't let you dock for lunch. If you're driving it's not going to help unless you squeeze a reservation out of them on the phone first. The smart thing to do is, if you're in the lurch, tip big. The fun thing I'd say would be to hang out at two resorts and golf courses, so split your party and put your friends in the other one so you can pull off the guest of a (temporary) member.

The Cardboard Canoe Race

Spring. White Squall Paddling Centre Open House, near Carling, and not Port Carling. If you're feeling reckless and you're handy with duct tape and cardboard, build your own canoe for the big race. Odds of sinking, about 50%. A fun day and kids welcome, plus coffee, food and a band, from the good people at White Squall Outfitters, Parry Sound. For May 2008 and beyond, it's going to be the big weekend deal, souped up to the Georgian Bay Kayak & Canoe Festival with hands-on workshops. Bring your wetsuit.

Surviving Your Wilderness Adventure

Spring. White Squall Paddling Centre Open House, near Carling, and not Port Carling. One thing you could do is try out a canoe or kayak at their idyllic paddling school or sign up for a course on surviving your wilderness adventure. It's the best place to buy your gear, small boating or camping, either here or at their store in Parry Sound, a half hour away.

Country In The City

Spring. The Fitness Trail, Parry Sound. More the go for a stroll or walk the dog. The kids prefer the skateboard park. Snowmobiles in winter. But it is a great walk and you're still in town with the Sound a stone's throw away, two sandy public beaches ahead and a hike at the far end on the Rough Trail.

The Relief Of Spring

Spring. At the mouth of the Seguin River in Parry Sound. The firs always keep the country bright and stately, in winter doing double-duty sheltering the other browned-out woodlands in snow. Finally by May the bare branches go ahead again with a dance of sparkling yellow-green. The relief of spring.

Full Throttle

Spring. The Mag at full throttle. Every time I look through the viewfinder, I try not to settle for a jigsaw puzzle or picture postcard. I couldn't resist this one.

Water and Rock

Spring. Water comes alive on the Seguin River, a torrent rushing through your ears. Tap water spoils us. Always does the same old familiar routine.

Get Your Feet Wet In The Falls

Spring. On the Seguin River, the icy waters bubbling with snowmelt in the bright sun and you're wearing one too many sweaters. You could cool off, but it won't be relaxing. With so much water you would expect waterfalls a little bigger than this one, and there are 22 respectable ones around Bracebridge. In May, the only big spring event in cottage country, is the Bracebridge Festival of the Falls, you should definately check out for other good reasons. Bracebridge itself is a pretty nice town built high over a thundering river. A good place to stop and shop, the small-towners say, tired of jeans and T shirts. The action's beside the big dam downtown, a food fair with local arts and crafts, a children's fair, some wild Fire Department guys who let loose about a hundred thousand toy ducks over the falls, and people rowing after them, and bonus voyageurs and lumberjacks performing, and if you can't find the other 21 falls, well they've got free buses to them. I had some good shots but at low res because of a default setting you get after you replace your dead batteries. I'm a film camera kind of guy.

Down A Cottage Road

Spring. The waters start to flow. A lake off the Seguin River. In these remote spots, you can get lucky and find some British couple who've built their dream place, a marina, a restaurant, B&B, or a nest of cottages. Follow the signs for their side road destinations, though be prepared for some odd encounters with crusty old locals who might prefer the dilapidated cabin fever style of hospitality. What you'll usually find are cottages and more cottages on both sides of the road. Of course you should have got your coffee back in town. Stopped at that gas station. Now there's no place to stop. You keep driving, hoping for a public beach or at least a boat launch. After a half-dozen of these cottage malls, you realize they don't have any, every foot of lake and riverfront, private property. Locals and cottagers walking along their gravel road visiting each other, will be friendly and puzzled. A what? Oh, well, no, not over here. Try that next town. But keep going and you'll get lucky somewhere.

The Milk Run

Spring. Canada Geese on the big arm of the Magnetawan River to Lake Cecebe, near the friendly pocketsized town of The Mag. You always see the geese and ducks circling, assembling in the fall. When they return in spring they must sneak in. A few here, a few there, along the Muskoka route home. The express out and the milk run back. The trees always remind me of people.

A Slippery Walk

Spring. Not a lake, but a lot of snow turned to ice and melting into slabs, in the Magnetawan.

Terra Incognita

Spring. An anonymous lake in the Magnetawan mellowing in the warm April air. Even the best map you can find won't give you a name or the one lane track to it. There are thousands.

SPRING IN COTTAGE COUNTRY

The first cold breath of Spring off Lake Rosseau. Not a sign of a cottager yet. Near the dock, a beaver poked his head out an icehole and ducked under a few seconds later.

Animals, the real natives, provide us with the magic of this place.