Looks Like I Have A Pack Rat In The Barn

     I haven’t been in the upstairs level of my barn for a while, but the other day I went up there looking for something.  What I saw surprised me:  There was a big pile of cottonwood leaves scattered around.  I figured out pretty quickly how they got there--I must have a pack rat thinking to live up there.  This happened once before in 2011.  

    Pack Rats are cute and friendly looking rodents, with rounded ears and a fluffy tail.  They are often mistaken fro squirrels, because of their furry tail.  In fact, I saw what I thought was a squirrel several times climbing up the outside wall of the barn, but I now realize it was a Pack Rat.  

    Looking at them, you might think they would make a nice pet, but they have one manor disadvantage, their smell.  The Pack Rat themselves stay clean but they create a smelly mess wherever they live, so I plan to live trap the critter and take it somewhere else to live.

    Pack Rats eat foliage and I expect that is why this one has collected all of the leaves.  They are nocturnal and generally live in crevasses made by boulders, like what exists in the rock slide high on the slope across from our house.  They will of course, also take up residence in vacant buildings (like my barn).

    They get their name because they have an interesting habit of collecting bits shiny manmade objects like bits of glass, aluminum, coins, and bottle caps.

    The photo below shows a Pack Rat that I caught in a live trap and relocated in 2011.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Finally, S[ring Break (And A Dog)

         Of course, having led extremely austere lives for three months in the camp, we were very happy to finally be able to go on a shopping spree in Williams Lake, and stock up on the many things we needed for ourselves and our one-room school, because there were no stores of any kind, back in Camp.

         Having really enjoyed taking care of Chico, Shawn’s dog whenever his family left camp on long weekends, we really found ourselves thinking that it would be really nice to have a dog of our own. So during our Spring Break, we made looking around for a dog, one of our top priorities.  

            I don’t recall how we found out about it, but we heard that someone in a tiny place called Marguerite, BC, had Pomeranian pups for sale.  I had never heard of the Pomeranian breed, but we drove to Marguerite, found the house that were selling the pups, and bought ourselves a small, fluffy, white Pomeranian pup who we named Vincent, after Van Gogh.  It didn't take long for the tiny canine to become the alpha male in our family.

    Our family and friends back in the States, who knew about our move to the wilderness in BC, thought it was bizarre when they learned that we had gotten a small fluffy Pomeranian, instead of a Husky or German Shepherd, which seemed more appropriate living where we did.

            The photo below shows my wife in an old fashion-style sunbonnet she had bought, holding Vincent, while we are floating on the Little Lake, in an inflatable boat we had also purchased during our Spring Break.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Finally Spring Break and Leaving Camp

             Snow, cold, short days, and being bogged down at night planning and typing out for work with carbon paper, that would keep all the grades busy in my one-room school, was slowly wearing us down.  In the remote camp there was no TV reception, no phones, and only rarely at night, could we pick up a radio station (CBC), fortunately, the Silvacan Resources Mill Camp did show usually poor, second-rate movies in the Rec Hall twice a week.  Nevertheless, unable to leave camp for three months because of flight schedules (there were no roads out to civilization), my wife and I were beginning to suffer from “cabin fever” (being isolated and stuck in one place over a long period, usually winter).

            When March and our Spring break finally arrived, we were eager to leave camp and visit the outside world.  We took the “Sched” (the regular scheduled small plane that landed on the now frozen Takla Lake) to a Fort St. James, where we had left our truck in the fall at the Northern Thunderbird Airline’s parking area.

      We found the truck buried in snow, with a foot and a half of hard snow on its hood and much more snow engulfing the vehicle.  The good folks at Northern Thunderbird Air, loaned me a shovel to dig the truck out, which I finally managed to do, but in my enthusiasm to clear the snow from the hood of the truck, I accidentally snapped the radio antenna off with the shovel.

 Digging our Scout out of the snow was only the first of many problems we had to deal with before we could enjoy our Spring Break.  I couldn't get the truck started, and ended up having to get it towed to a garage where I had to buy a new battery.  

                Because we had driven up to Canada in the fall, parking the Scout in Fort St. James when we flew into Camp, then not returning there on our Christmas Break, the truck just sat there all winter.   On our Christmas Break we flew back to Indiana, and upon our return to Canada, we became Landed Immigrants, so we had a few legal thing to do during our spring break.

    I needed to register the vehicle in BC and get a British Columbia driver's license,  however, neither of those things could be done in the small village of Fort St. James, so nervously, I made an illegal drive of 100 miles to the big city of Prince George.  I was paranoid the whole way, afraid  that I would be stopped by the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police).  It didn't help my paranoia that the Scout's muffler fell off along the way, but we made it to PG, got the government paper work completed, and finally began with more enjoyable pursuits.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Pets In The Mill Camp

         One of the things that led to continual stress for both my wife and I, was witnessing the constant mistreatment, cruelty, and neglect that were often given to the pets people had in Camp.  We could never understand why those people even had pets, if they didn't love them and treat them with kindness.  

        One time I got word that the Jack family was going to leave their log home beside Takla Lake and move down to Takla Landing, a First Nation’s Reserve located about 12 miles down the Lake.  That meant I was going to lose the family that contributed the greatest number of students to our school.  Then the next day I heard that in preparation to their move, they shot their dogs.  About a week later, the Jack family was back living in their cabin by the lake and the kids were back in the school.  

        Darwin was one of my first graders whose family lived in one of the few wood frame houses in camp.  After one of the four days off, when the family took the mill’s DC-3 to Williams Lake, Darwin’s parents came back with a puppy, then after a couple of months they forced the poor dog to spend most of its time, day and night, in a lidded box outside the house.  The dark windowless plywood box was about 48” long, 36” high, and 30” wide (1.2m X 90cm X  .75m.)   Darwin’s mother Hazel, liked to shock the other women in the camp by talking about killing kittens.

        Fortunately, a few mill families did treat their pets decently.  Shawn, a fifth grade student was good kid, whose family owned had a cute little dog called "Chico."  Shawn and Chico often accompanied my wife and I on our almost daily hikes to the Little Lake.  Whenever his whole family went out for one of the four- day weekends, they would bring Chico over to stay with my wife and I.  We, being real animal lovers, really enjoyed having Chico around and spoiled him, which caused problems when it was time for him to return to his real home, and the dog wanted to continue to stay with us.

        The photo above shows Shawn with his dog Chico on the left and another camp dog on the right.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Teacher In A One-Room School, Pretty Much On My Own

             The Stikine School District Office, the largest school district at the time in BC, was located in Fort Nelson.  It  had to pay healthy salaries for teachers in order to attract them for positions in very remote and isolated areas.  Living in the mill camp with absolutely no stores of any kind meant that there was nowhere in camp for us to spend our money on, except for the pop machine in the Rec Hall/school.

            We were never able to leave the mill camp because of the plane schedules, we ate fabulous meals free at the cook house, and did not have to pay rent for the little trailer that was the teacherage.  All of those things did wonders for our savings and it was gratifying to watch our pay cheques being deposited in our growing bank account. 

            I had been teaching for a half a year, without any visit, or communications, or direction from anyone from the Stikine School District, except for a few radio calls I had made from the camp office, when I needed something.  Then January, I was informed that the Stikine School District Superintendent was going to visit me on a particular day.  

    That news left me with both fear (the big boss is coming) and hope (maybe it will be helpful to learn how things are normally done in a one-room Canadian school).   However, the big day of the visit came and went,  but not the District Superintendent.  

            There was no communication sent to me about the reason for the no-show.  I thought maybe the District Superintendent couldn't fly in because of the bad weather, he was traveling from Fort Nelson, which was closer to the Yukon, that it was to Takla Lake.  I patiently waited for another day, then another, without hearing anything.

            Finally after three days, I went to the camp office and made a radio call to Fort Nelson to the Stikine School District office to find out what happened to the District Superintendent’s visit.  When the radio call finally got through, I was surprised to be told that my school, Silvacan Elementary, was no longer in the Stikine School District.  The district boundaries had been redrawn and I was now in the Vanderhoof School District.  

        No one had bothered to let me know.  At least the town of Vanderhoof was physically closer than Fort Nelson.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Taking Advantage of the One-Room School Teacher

         A few days ago I mentioned that even though I was already being overwhelmed with work, just trying to stay on top of my workload in teaching in the one-room school at the Silvacan Resources Mill,  I was told by Frank the mill camp boss, that I should also start being the “school bus” driver for the school, ie,  picking up and returning my students from the First Nations Jack family, that lived two miles down a road (photo) from the camp.

            When Tracy Jack started kindergarten, I picked her up along with Madelaine and Hannah in the morning, but since she only attended kindergarten in the morning, I had to use part of my lunch break to drive Tracy back home at noon.  On one of those noon trips, when I got down to the Jack house, I was met by her older sister, Bernice, who walked up to the truck with a basket of laundry and asked me if she could ride with me back up to the camp.

           "Sure, just put the laundry in the back." I told her.

            This she did, but instead of letting Tracy out to go to the house, she told her to scoot over and I ended up driving both her and Tracy back to camp.  

            After they both got out, I scratched my head thinking, since Tracy is still here in camp, I spent my lunch hour not taking Tracy home, but picking up Bernice, so she could do her laundry.

            I often felt very taken advantage of by Ralph Jack too.  Ralph was a few years older than his sisters Madelaine and Hannah.  Ralph started out being very enthusiastic about school, since he was very good at adding and subtracting, but he became jaded, as math became more complicated, and subjects required more reading.  

            After about a year and a half, his attendance at school began to drop off (I ended up having to fail his older brother John, because he had missed so many days).  Several times I picked up Ralph and his sisters in the morning and they attended class, but then after the lunch break, Ralph disappeared, failing to return to school.  

            After school, I drove Madelaine and Hannah home, but then later that night, I heard a knock on the door, and there stood Ralph, asking for a ride home.  It was always a moral dilemma for me, I knew it would be a long walk home in the dark for him and I was sympathetic, but at the same time, I really believed that it was important for him to learn to live with the results of his decisions. 

        My driving them back and forth was for school and if skipped school, he lost out on the ride home.  I also reminded Ralph that the camp truck did not belong to me, and that he should ask Frank, the camp boss for a ride home.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

1974: Bizarre Stories From My First Graders

       Having been saddled with the job of driving the camp truck down to the Takla Lake shore to pick up kids from the First Nations Jack family every school day, did sometimes lead to some interesting conversations.  

       One morning while hauling Madelaine and Hannah Jack up to our one- room school I heard a  memorable “fact” about moose. 

        When I had arrived down at their cabin, I found the whole family standing outside, with the father holding a rifle.  When I got the girls into the truck, I asked them what was going on.

           Madelaine, the most outgoing of the two girls told me that they had seen a moose with a calf and their father was going to shoot them.  

        I didn’t really know what the hunting regulations were in BC, but I was pretty sure that killing a mother moose and calf was illegal, but the situation was complicating because of the fact that these were First Nation's people, which probably had different rules.

        I did want to find out more information, so I asked, "Why does your father want to shoot a mother  moose and calf?"  Then Madelaine said something that almost made me drive off the road:  

        "Because, moose eat people,"

        I had always had an interest in North American Indian people and had read about their vast knowledge of the natural world and the respect they had for animals who they viewed as "brothers” or kin.  

        "Madelaine," I said shaking my head, "Moose don't eat people or even other animals, they just eat plants."

        “But that is what my father said.” was her reply.

        Trying to break the words gently to her, I responded, "Well, I think your father is mistaken."

        "My father knows a lot more about moose, than you do."

        Having been thoroughly put in my place, I just shook my head in disbelief and drove on silently up the road with my two first grade students. 

        On another occasion, driving the two girls up to school, Madelaine seemed a bit disturbed.  When I asked her what the problem was, she informed me that she had seen a tail sticking out from behind the trunk of a tree.  This information didn't get me any closer to discovering what was troubling her, so I asked her to explain.

        "We'll, if you see a tail sticking out from a tree, then an ugly man with long fingernails, and a magic key will come and try to get you.  The man had escaped from jail and can open any door.  He attacked my friend, but she was able to hit him with a stick, knock him out, and get away."

        That was something I didn't know, and you probably didn't either, but from now on, beware if you see a tail sticking out from behind a tree.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

 

Frosted Lupine

    I read the other day that the beginning of September is the meteorological beginning of autumn, and certainly that seems to be the case in BC’s Robson Valley.  The leaves on our deciduous trees are starting to show a yellowish hue, the leaves of the Boston Creepers are crimson, and yesterday we had a light frost.

    In an attempt to stay healthy, I have been making myself do four laps, jogging/walking around our pond after breakfast.  Yesterday, during my laps, I noticed that out in the open, there was frost on the Lupine leaves.  I had to stop my laps to take some photos.  

    Fortunately, so far the garden hasn’t been affected by the frost, but the cooler weather has given me some concern about my corn plants, whose ears have not yet totally matured.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

 

1974: "School Bus" Driver Added To My Teaching Chores

        Today I am returning to blogging about our adventure of immigrating to Canada and teaching in an isolated one-room school in a BC mill camp.  

        After the two week whirlwind visit with our family over the Christmas season, we returned to Canada, this time with our completed immigration papers.  There were no problems with the Canada Customs officials at our "crossing" at the Vancouver airport.   We were happy to have finally gained a new Canadian status--"Landed Immigrant."

        Upon our arrival back in camp, we were welcomed by the kids, bored, and surprisingly eager to start school again.  Of course, midway through the first day, they were already tired with it and eager for the school day to end.  After school they began their visitations to our trailer, to see what new things we brought with us.

        Because we were getting so much absenteeism because of the 10/4 day work schedule of the mill, I asked permission of the school district to run school on the 10/4 schedule.  I did it for about 3 shifts, but then I reverted back to the regular school schedule.  I found that after the ten straight days of school, I was too burned out, and the four days of "weekend" in the camp without much to keep us amused was also too long--we could only walk to the little lake so many times.

        During January, 1974, Frank, camp boss, who was continually having to keep hundreds of different "balls in the air," (keeping the mill, and all the  things associated with the camp going) decided to drop one ball--running the Jack kids back and forth from school, and told me I could borrow one of the camp trucks to do it, so added to my workload was the responsibility of “school bus” driver.  

         Because the First Nation Jack kids made up about half of our school population, and since the family didn’t own a vehicle, it was important for the school that they be driven back an forth every day to keep the school population up.

        Like most things, there were both good and bad aspects of this new job.  It was nice to drive the two miles down to Takla Lake in the morning, allowing me to possibly see some wildlife or a spectacular display of light on the sky as the sun came up.  

        On the negative side, it meant one more job for me that would take extra time.  There was not always a truck readily available, so that left me searching out someone with a vehicle or the keys.   The lifestyle of the Jack family and the lack of any kind of communication system with them meant that after I found a truck and drove down to their cabin (photo above), I sometimes found no one home, and I had spent time and the trip for nothing.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Remembering My 911 Day

     Everyone that was alive at the time, probably remembers where they were 25 years ago, when they first heard those shocking reports of what was going on in what later became called “911”   Here is what I gleaned about the day from my diary:

Sept. 11/01 Tues. (A day to remember)

    At 7:00 when my clock radio went off this morning, the first thing we heard on the news was that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center in NYC.  This was personally interesting to me, since we had visited and been to the top of the World Trade Center almost exactly 6 months earlier.  (My second thought was, “That’s an interesting coincidence, just like in 1945 when a B-25 bomber accidentally crashed into the Empire State Building.” something that I had remembered in collecting trivia for my Trivia Calendar that I made)

        Then a short time later, we heard that a 2nd plane had rammed into the other tower, and It became immediately clear, that the first crash was not an accident.  We turned on the TV and then saw that the Pentagon had been hit by a plane.

        I had to force myself to tear away from the TV reports while all this was happening, but I had to go to work.  As I pedaled my bike to the office, I listened to my pocket radio.  I had my earplugs on listening to the CBC Radio as it reported on the disaster.

        I was on the highway at the area between the McBride frontage roads, when they reported that the first tower had collapsed.   I couldn’t help but utter, “Aww, no,” out loud.

        I was in shell shock for the rest of the day.  As I listened to the radio at work, one event after another unfolded; the 2nd tower collapsed, and another hijacked plane crashed in Pennsylvania.  The news was full of reports of other suspect aircraft flying around.  Planes from all over the world were being forced to make emergency landings in Canada.  I got very little work done that day.

        Everyone else at our forestry office was stunned too.  In the afternoon the District Manager had the whole staff gather in the foyer of the office, and in a big circle we held a moment silence for the disaster that was unwinding in the US.   There were construction workers in the building working on a new space in the Forestry Office, which added to the chaos of the day.

    Spent the night watching TV reports about the Twin Tower Attack.  

    The photo is from March, 2001

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Six Months Before The Trade Center Disappeared

     Tomorrow will be the 25th Anniversary of 911, and already the news media is starting to talk about it.  In March of 2001, half year before the Trade Center vanished, my wife and I were in New York visiting friends, and as part of our trip we went up to the top of the Trade Center.  I still find it very strange to realize that up there on the top, I was standing where now, there is just air, because the building I was standing on is gone.

    I did take lots of photos of being in the Trade Center, but of course, I now can’t find them.  However, here are a few screen grabs that I took from a video of our New York Trip.  The photo below shows the plaza at the foot of the Trade Center, where you can see part of the iconic exterior of the building.  

    At the very bottom is a shot of the view from a window at the top of the Trade Center.

You can take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Mother Bear And Cub Visit Again

     Yesterday afternoon, I happened to glance out of the kitchen window and discovered that the mother black bear and her cub were back after a few day’s absence.   This time they were up by my shop and the mother bear was very curious about what was inside.  Before I was able to get my camera, she actually stood up vertically in front of the door, like she was going to open it and walk in.  

    I know why she was interested in what was inside my shop, because that is where I had stored all of the apples, I had recently picked from our two apple trees.

    Again, I felt bad about depriving her and her cub some of the apples, because I know they need to bulk up before they start their winter hibernation, although they do seem to look pretty healthy at present.  If only they wouldn’t trash my apple trees.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Clouds Building Over The Cariboo Mountains

     Yesterday when I was out in the garden pulling weeds.  I always  enjoy watching the Robson Valley sky, because I love the clouds, the color, and the light.  Yesterday, I was also paying attention to the sky because I had hung the laundry to dry on the clothesline, and I was afraid that we might get showers.  As I watched the sky, I was taken by the dramatic beauty of the clouds that were building over the Cariboo Mountains.  

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

What's The Trouble, Kona?

     This morning I was sitting on the couch watching the news on TV, as I ate my breakfast.  Kona was sitting calmly beside me with her head resting on the back of the couch looking out of the bay window, waiting for me to finish, so she could lick out my bowl.  Suddenly, Kona erupted into a barrage of very loud, forceful barking, which scared me.  I tried to calm her down, then turned to look out of the window to see what was causing all of her agitation.

    There I saw a mother bear and a cub walking through the lawn.  They could hear Kona’s loud barking fit coming from the house which prompted them to began scrambling for cover in the woods.  It took a really long time for Kona to finally calm herself down. 

     I usually do four laps, walking and jogging around the pond after my breakfast, but today I decided that since the mother bear had a cub, that I had better just skip the exercise today.

    This was the first bear sighting we have seen in the yard this year.  I guess fall, and their need to bulk up has led to the exploration.  

    I have already picked the apples off of my two trees, to prevent bears from tearing up and trashing the trees eating the apples.  In a way I am sorry to deny them food that they need, but they do really destroy apple trees.  I am actually surprised that my apple trees are still alive after being so severely mangled in the past by hungry bears.

    I wasn’t able to get a photo of the bear and cub this morning, but found this old one to use.  The cub I saw this morning was smaller that the yearling in the photo.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

1973: Teaching In A One-Room School, Always Stuck In Camp

 (Just a follow-up from yesterday’s blog--I caught three more mice last night.)

    Because of the isolation of the Silvscan Mill camp and the schedule of the those few transportation links to the outside world, we were never able to leave the camp on our weekends.  The“Sched" (a regular scheduled float plane) flight to Fort St. James only operated on weekdays, when we had to be in school.  

        The Silvacan mill did have an old DC-3 which they used to make twice weekly trips from Williams Lake to the camp ferrying work crews and supplies back and forth, but that again, only happened during weekdays, so it ended up always being stuck in camp.  It ended up that we were only able to leave the camp three times a year, just during the school breaks--Christmas, Spring Break, and summer vacation.

           The fact that the mill worked on a 10/4 schedule (working 10 days straight, then getting 4 days off) which allowed the mill workers, most of who lived in bunkhouses, a chance to work long hours while they were in camp, then have extra-long weekends when they were flown out to Williams Lake.  

          This 10/4 schedule didn't work very well for our school, because the families who had children in school, often left for the four day weekends in Williams Lake, causing the kids to miss Thursday afternoons, Fridays, and Mondays at school.  Another fluctuation in attendance was caused when the Jack kids disappeared unexpectedly from school,  because their First Nation’s family sometimes went on long hunting trips or get-togethers at the Takla Landing Reserve. 

            Nevertheless, I kept up the school schedule whether I had 12 kids, or two, in class, but after three months, the Christmas break was upon us, and Joan and I finally got to leave camp, first flying on the camp's DC-3 to Williams Lake, where we were able to make connections to fly back to Indiana with stories and slides of our life in the remote British Columbia “bush."

        Photo above shows the Camp’s DC-3.  Below is a photo of the Jack family in their boat, off to the Takla Landing Reserve.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Mice, Looking For A Warm Winter Home

     Well, it’s that time of year again.  All those field mice that were happy cavorting around in the weeds of summer, are starting to think about the upcoming winter and are looking for a nice warm place to live.   Unfortunately, that place is our house.

    We had been starting to see some signs of mice in the house, and I was able to find one of our old mouse traps, which I baited with peanut butter, but no mouse was tempted.  So yesterday, when we went into McBride for shopping, I went to the hardware store to buy a couple more mouse traps. 

     I couldn’t any in where I thought the mouse traps would be, so I ask the clerk where they were.

    “Oh,” he said, “Since everyone was looking for mouse traps, we moved them up to this special display at the front of the aisle.”   (I guess, our house is not the only one being impacted by mice.)  

    I bought two traps and when I got back home with them I baited them, the two I bought, and the other one I had, with a bit of a cheese slice, and spread the traps around in three different places.

    This morning when I got up and checked, I was amazed at my success.  I had caught three mice.  I will continue to put the traps out, until I no longer catch any mice.

    I hate killing the pests and used to live trap them, and release them outside so the coyotes and other predators could eat them, but presently, there are just too many in the house, and I have to be hardcore about quickly getting ride of them, before their population really explodes.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Okay, Whose Been Swiping And Storing Our Apples?

     The other day while walking through the yard, I noticed and apple sitting on our picket fence.  It left me very puzzled as to how it got there.   The apple wasn’t eaten, and my first thought was maybe a deer had picked it off of the ground, then for some reason, left it on the fence, but that didn’t make sense, because a deer would have eaten it right away, not leave it for later.  Then I thought, maybe somebody had been in our yard, and left the apple there as a joke, but that likewise seemed very unlikely, because no one has been around our rather isolated house.  

    I gave up wondering about the apple and forgot about it.  Then this morning when I was headed over to the pond, to get some exercise walking and jogging around it, I passed an old birdhouse on a post  and noticed something inside it--four apples.  (photos below)  This really confused me.

    To me, the most likely suspect would be a squirrel, but the squirrels we have around here a small, compared to other varieties of squirrels.  While squirrels do collect and save food for the winter, I couldn’t imagine a squirrel carrying one of those apples in its tiny mouth.   I couldn’t really identify any obvious teeth marks on the apples.

    The whole thing remains a puzzling mystery to me.

You can look at my paintings :  davidmarchant2.ca