At The Whistlestop Gallery

     McBride is known as sort of an “Artist Town” because of the many talented artists that live in the area.  The McBride Train Station features The Whistlestop Gallery, where many of the paintings and other works of the local artisans are on sale.

    On Wednesday, a film crew from a Prince George television station traveled to McBride to film a piece about McBride and the Whistlestop Gallery.  I was asked to show up as one of the contributing artists to be interviewed.

    While one of the Whistlestop officials was being interviewed, I was standing out in the lobby awaiting my turn.  As I stood there, a tourist couple came in and were looking at some of the brochures on display.  Being a friendly local resident, I asked the lady tourist where they had come from.

    She replied that they lived on Vancouver Island.  She then told me that they had driven up to the university in Prince George to visit their daughter.  She added that now they were on their way to Clearwater, to see a friend who lived there.

    Then she said that long ago she had a high school teacher in Victoria who had inspired her to pursue an education in biology, who she thought had later moved to McBride.  

    I asked her what was his name, thinking I might know him.

    “Mr. Foster” was her reply.

    “Mr. Foster?” I surprisingly remarked,  “He was my next door neighbor for 35 years.”

    Then it was her time to be surprised, and we talked about the Fosters, who had just recently moved down to Victoria on Vancouver Island.

    The incident shows what a small world it is, especially for people who live in a very small community.

    My interview with the TV presenter, must have went okay, because I later learned that after I had left, he bought the print of my painting of Mt. Robson, I was holding up, as I explained my painting technique of painting just one two inch square every day.

    I also learned that the woman tourist who I was talking to, bought one of my art cards.

You can see my other paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Seeing My First Pine Martin

         The following is from a blog I posted in May of 2013.  It was after a day when I saw an unusual number of wild critters.

        Yesterday, was another one of those rare days, when all sorts of wildlife were out galavanting around in the woods.  I blogged about the black bear we saw on our morning walk, and when we started out on our afternoon walk, we were wary of coming across the bear again, so I thought I would make some noise as we walked so it could hear us coming.

        Usually the late afternoon walk, I take some oats and corn along to scatter where the trail runs beside our pond, to feed the ducks (and inadvertently) the deer.  After I had emptied the plastic jar of the oats and corn, I just drummed on it’s bottom and whistled a happy tune to alert any bear as we continued down our trail. 

        Shortly upon entering the woods, I saw some commotion, and watched as a mother moose, and calf retreated deeper into the bush.  When we got to the field where we had seen the bear, it was empty, but a big hawk or raptor took flight.  When we re-entered the woods at the far field, we scared off a spruce grouse (a chicken-like bird).  

        Like I was saying, I was trying to make noise kept vigil as we walked, and through the high brush I saw movement in a tree.  When I got a clearer view, I could see a dark furry animal, but wasn’t sure what it was.  It was bigger than a cat, and it had a really furry tail.  I took two photos, and when I got home I looked it up in my BC Mammal book.   I decided it was an American Pine Marten.

        Martens are pretty elusive animals.  I have never before seen one in the bush.  They eat voles, insects, squirrels, and have even been know to finish off an apple pie that had been left in a window to cool.

        Seeing a marten, was really a special treat for me.  They are usually only found in deep mature conifer forests.  This one was in a mixed forest mostly aspen, cottonwood, and birch trees, with only a scattering of spruce and balsam.   They are a sign of a healthy mature forest.

        Pine Martins are prized for their fur, and are sought after by trappers.  Hopefully, this one will have a long life in the neighborhood.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Merlin Bird ID App: Early Birds

     Last night at 3:45 AM, I was awaken when my wife fell, on the way to the bathroom.  Still very groggy from being suddenly awaken, I got up to help her.  I helped her get back on her feet, and supported her as she walked to the bathroom, then back to the bedroom.  

    This middle of the night activity, woke and excited Kona, and so I carried her outside so she could pee.  When I got outside, there was already a bit of light in the sky (we have very long days this time of year.)   What really surprised me when I got out there, was the number of birds that were tweeting and singing their songs.

    I am used to hearing this very early morning bird chorus in June, but it is usually during my half-sleep when I was in the bedroom.  Last night was different because all the songs were louder, since I was outside. 

    Instead of just waiting around for Kona to pee, I went upstairs and got my iPhone.  On the phone I have the Merlin Bird ID App, which, when you turn it on, identifies the different bird sounds going on.  I only had the app on for three minutes, and I was very surprised at how many birds were out their singing their hearts out in the early morning.  Above you see the birds the Merlin app recorded.

    I was especially happy to see the American Redstart and the Western Tanager on the list.  They are such beautiful birds that I hadn’t actually seen for a few years.  I am glad that they are still around.  

    Not being a hardcore birder, there are only a few birds that I can identify by their songs.  The Merlin app is wonderful for doing so, for you.  

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Satellite TV: Doing Everything Yourself

     We live outside a very isolated tiny rural village in the Interior of BC.  Because of our isolation and the small size of the Village, the services that are normally available to people are non-existent.  My wife and I have for decades, depended upon satellite TV for our entertainment.  

    Normally people who have satellite TV, just call and have a technician come to the house to aim and hook up the dish to the satellite.  Living where we do, with no satellite TV technician around, means that I had to set up and aim the dish at the satellite myself.  This was no easy feat.  A technician would have an instrument to make it easy to find the satellite.  I had nothing, I had to use trial and error to aim my dish.

    To do so, I had to get a TV set and the satellite receiver out there beside the dish, so I could hook them up to the dish and as I slowly moved the dish up and down and back and forth, I could tell on the TV, when I found the satellite signal.  The only area where I could place the dish to hit the satellite, was on the far edge of the paddock of my barn.  

    So to find the satellite, I first had to string out a long extension cord from the house out to the paddock to power the TV and my satellite receiver.   I had to put my big bulky TV (this was before flat-screen TVs) into my wheel barrow, and wheel it out to the satellite dish.

    I’m sure that it looked a bit ridiculous to those people driving down our road to see me sitting in the pasture with a big TV set beside me, as I scanned the skies.  

    I have had to go out there and readjust finding the satellite several different times over the years.  One time, after frustrating hours of searching for the satellite and finding nothing, I eventually discovered that the short cable I had used to connect the dish to the satellite receiver, was broken, which was why I never got any signal. 

     I am always amazed and so very relieved, when I have eventually found the signal up in the sky.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Weeding The Garlic

     Because of a soil infection in our garden, we are no longer able to grow garlic or onions.  Fortunately, we have good friends that allow us to grow garlic in a section of their garden.  This of course comes with a moral obligation; we feel obliged to keep our garlic patch looking neat and tidy.

    Last Saturday, while visiting, I took a look at our garlic and was embarrassed to see how weeds had taken over, so yesterday I spent two hours pulling weeds out of our section of their garden.  It was not a very pleasant job, since they seem to have a lot of mosquitoes around their place.  The whole time I was weeding I wore netting over my head and wore gloves, to keep the pesky insects  from getting their blood meal from me.

    Every time I have to do a lot of weeding, I think back to my childhood.  The task of weeding in our family garden often fell to me.  It was a job I hated.   Indiana summers are hot and muggy, and just spending an hour or so out weeding the garden was a miserable job.  The misery was compounded because within sight of our house was a country club swimming pool.   As I sweated pulling weeds in our garden, I could hear the kids at the country club, splashing, yelling, and having a refreshing swim.  

    Fortunately, the hatred towards gardens that I acquired during my childhood, diminished as I became an adult.

Take a look at my paintings"  davidmarchant2.ca

Elk At The "Golden Hour"

     How many Sundays have I shown you photos that I took the previous evening while driving down Hinkelman Road?  Well, here is another one.  

    Every Saturday evening we drive out to visit friends who live on Hinkelman.  Once winter is over and we start getting longer days, the sun is positioned very low at the far end of the Robson Valley.  This creates the “Golden Hour”, when the low positioned sun creates some beautiful and colorful lighting on the things it illuminates.

    I took this photo shortly after 8:00 PM, as we were driving back home.  The male elk was nicely standing in the sunlight with dark shadowed trees behind him.  It was also nice that Beaver Mountain was jutting up in the background.   You can also see some of the male elk’s harem scattered around behind him. 

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Resuscitating A Hummingbird

 This is something that happened in May of 2013:

        One Saturday night, when I returned home after working on the waterline, my wife told me there was a hummingbird trapped in the greenhouse.  It was fairly dark, but I went out to check.  I figured that since it was night, the hummingbird would be roosting on one of the wires or beams of the greenhouse, but I couldn’t see it, so I assumed it must have found a way out.

        The next morning, when I went out to the greenhouse, I noticed what looked like the corpse of a hummer laying on the ground.  I picked up the ruffled little body and it moved a little, so I realized that the tiny hummingbird was still alive.  It’s eyes were closed and I didn’t have much hope that it would survive, but I took it over and held it up to the hummingbird feeder.  I thought that maybe I could get it to drink some of the sugar syrup, and that would give it some strength.

        I tried to put it on the feeder with it’s needle-like beak in the syrup, but it couldn’t even stand.  I just positioned it, lying on the feeder, with its beak in the sugar water.  It was very inanimate, it wasn’t sucking the syrup, so I tried massaging its tiny body, and blowing on it.  It did sort of respond, but still wasn’t eating.

        My wife got a syringe without a needle, and we drew up some of the syrup into it.  I closed my hand around the hummingbird to warm it, and again put the syringe and syrup to its beak.  After about a half an hour of this, I noticed that it was sucking in the syrup.  It began to move more, and its eyes opened for the first time.

        Eventually, as its strength returned, the hummer began to struggle to free itself.  I let it try to fly, but it kept nose-diving to the ground.  I checked to see if one of its wings was broken, and discovered that one of its long wing feathers was, for some reason, stuck to the rear part of its body.  I gently unhooked it, and then the hummingbird tried to fly once again, and this time it was successful.  It buzzed into the air and flew away.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca