Blackhawk finds a home

Amazing news! The Blackhawk is alive and skating.

No, not Blackhawk as in the Chicago Blackhawks of the National Hockey League. They appear to be dead for this season, drifting between fourth and fifth place in the league’s western division.

I’m talking about Blackhawk the lost cat, who I’ve just sighted skating – slipping and sliding actually - across the ice-crusted snow behind our cottage.

Blackhawk is a pure black cat with brilliant green eyes first spotted in the woods behind us many weeks ago. I can’t remember exactly when, but it was certainly before Christmas.

He (or she) is a domestic cat, either abandoned or lost. Possibly the pet of a cottager who closed up in late fall, not to return until spring.

I was concerned when Blackhawk first appeared. We had been through the mysteriously appearing cat routine before. Many years ago, and it did not end well for the cat.

That cat had gone feral. I made plans to trap it and bring it to a humane society.

That plan changed when it tried to attack two grandchildren playing on the deck. They escaped it by running into the cottage and pulling the screen door shut. The cat threw itself at the screen, hissing and clawing.

Trapping was no longer an option. I decided to follow the famous order given in the movie Apocalypse Now: “Exterminate with extreme prejudice.”

I’m not a great fan of cats but Blackhawk appeared to be a nice fellow, or gal, with no signs of having gone feral. No evidence that it should be treated with extreme prejudice.

It was thin, hungry and lonesome looking. But it would not approach, even when offered food.

We began setting out food at a distance. Blackhawk came to the food regularly and ate hungrily. It remained wary and kept its distance, running off if we tried to approach.

One morning the cat did not appear at the food dish. I scouted the area and a lingering fear was confirmed. A set of fresh coyote tracks led into Blackhawk’s feeding area.

I told my wife that we could give up our attempts to lure Blackhawk into coming in from the cold. He or she had become a hungry coyote’s breakfast.

However, next morning it was back, staring at the kitchen windows with that “where’s my breakfast” look.

We were thrilled to learn that it had not been eaten. Great news, but we had another problem.

We live only half-time at the lake, and were getting set to leave, likely for two weeks. Would Blackhawk survive?

We could leave food out for it, but Blackhawk would likely eat it all at once then be left without anything. Or, another animal could come along and steal the food.

There was nothing much we could do, so we left Blackhawk to fend for itself.

When we returned 12 days later, Blackhawk was alive and well. Somehow, it had survived, despite a couple of mornings with temperatures in the minus 20 Celsius range.

We spotted it behind a tree, watching the blue jays gorging at a feeder. Then it ran from behind the tree and lunged at one of the birds, but didn’t even come close to catching it.

Its hunting skills did not appear to be well developed and we had not been able to determine whether it even had claws. However, somehow it was surviving on its own.

All our attempts to lure Blackhawk inside failed, so we turned to Google for advice. There we learned that domestic cats who live outside for long periods lose their capacity for socializing with humans.

We also learned that such cats, when caught and turned over to a humane society, sometimes are euthanized because there is low hope that they can become pets again.

Catching Blackhawk and finding she or he a good home was complicated. How were we to figure out what was best for this cat?

So, we decided to leave Blackhawk’s fate up to Blackhawk. It had survived the longest stretch of the winter and looked reasonably healthy and happy.

Maybe it has decided it already has a good home outside. If not, our kitchen door always will be opened to a stray needing shelter from the cold and the wild.

The problem with pigs

As if we didn’t have enough worries about the environment, here’s a new one: wild pigs.

These beasts, considered one of the world’s most destructive invasive species, are well established in the Prairie provinces and are showing up in Ontario. They are the hybrid offspring of imported wild boars and domestic swine.

They are prolific breeders and there are fears they will multiply uncontrollably and destroy natural and agricultural areas here in Ontario.

Early last year the Ontario government reported 28 wild pig sightings and has launched a new pilot study to monitor sightings and gather information to determine what can be done to stop a wild pig population from becoming established.

In Haliburton County, two wild pig sightings were reported in 2019, one an escaped pot-bellied pig. Wild pigs can survive winter because, unlike domestic pigs, they have thick, bristly hair.

They are a serious problem in the U.S., firmly established in 35 states. The U.S. government says they cause $2 billion a year in damage, trampling plant life, rooting up huge areas and squeezing out other wildlife. They also can spread diseases to wild and domestic animals, and to humans.

They dig holes up to three feet deep snorting about for food. Their digging also uncovers tree and shrub roots, exposing them to disease and damage.

“Wild pigs are ecological train wrecks,” says Ruth Aschim, a University of Saskatchewan doctoral student who led a research team that studied wild pig expansion in Canada. The study found that territory occupied by wild pigs has increased on average by 88,000 square kilometres a year over the last decade.

They were not always considered destroyers of the environment. In fact, they once were considered helpful critters, which I learned while pursuing my hobby of family tree research.

I have traced my family back many centuries, discovering it evolved from a tribe of Saxon barbarians who invaded southern England from Europe. They settled in what now is West Sussex and, when they became somewhat civilized, established the village of Poling, which exists today.

The Poling villagers had pannage rights to a chunk of forest to their north. Pannage was an ancient practice of letting pigs and other livestock loose in a forested area to fatten on acorns, chestnuts and other delectables. This particular chunk of forest was called Palinga Schittas (Old English for swine sheds of the Polings), as mentioned in an AD 953 Sussex charter of King Eadred.

Letting the pigs run wild in the forest not only fattened them for slaughter but helped create garden areas. The pigs dug up the soil so thoroughly that rototilling - shovelling back in those days - was unnecessary.

Wild pigs saved many back muscles.

Times change and now we have tractors to break the land. Wild pigs are not needed and are considered by some biologists as the greatest emerging wildlife challenge of the 21^st century.

Pigs are not native to North America. They were brought here by early explorers and settlers, then again in modern times to diversify livestock production and to provide sport hunting opportunities.

Folks no doubt thought importing the beasts was a good idea at the time. However, they have developed into a problem of our own making.

The biggest part of the problem is that they breed like rabbits. They start having sex as young as six months and one female wild pig can produce a couple dozen piglets every 12 months or so over a lifespan of four to eight years.

So it is not hard to believe the U.S. department of agriculture estimate that there are seven million wild hogs on the loose in that country.

Part of Ontario’s new pilot study is to encourage people to report any sightings of pigs outside a fence. It is asking people reporting sightings to include a description and, if possible, a picture. Sightings can be reported by email to wildpigs@ontario.ca or on the iNaturalist Ontario Pig Reporting webpage.

The government’s goal is to use information from sightings, and variety of other sources, to decide what measures can be taken to stop wild pigs from becoming fully established in the province. The U.S. has found that trying to eliminate wild pig populations, even through extensive hunting, is almost impossible.  

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A winter cold and wet

My first glimpse of the bird has my mouth watering. It looks plump and juicy and I imagine it sitting in a roast pan, plucked and sprinkled with rosemary needles and a touch of garlic powder.

A closer look tells me its plumpness is merely feathers puffed out from nervousness over spotting my presence. It actually is a skinny little bird, weak from starvation as it huddles beneath the icy rain-draped lower branches of a young balsam.

My thoughts of it as a savoury meal immediately turn to sadness and shame.

It is a young partridge, perhaps not yet a year old. Or, to be technically correct, it is a young ruffed grouse, which are mistakenly called partridge in some places, notably in Northwestern Ontario where I grew up. The only partridge we have in Canada is the imported Hungarian partridge, a different bird altogether.

The name doesn’t matter. It is a sick bird and a grim reminder of how changing climate is changing nature’s balance.

It is not as dramatic a reminder as the one billion animals estimated to have perished in Australia’s wild fires. But a reminder still.

Abnormal summer heat and arid conditions sparked the wild fires that have ravaged Australia’s wildlife.

A moody winter of madcap temperature swings, ice pellets and freezing rain are what has weakened this little grouse, and likely others.

Temperatures this winter have been all over the Celsius or Fahrenheit or whatever scale you depend upon. One morning last week dawned at minus 25 Celsius. The very next dawn brought plus two Celsius.

Erratic precipitation hasn’t been helpful either. It rained, at least a trace, on 21 days between Nov. 1 and the first two weeks January. The weekend just passed saw almost two inches of rain fall on parts of Haliburton County.

And, there has been little blanketing snow, which provides winter protection for some forest critters. There have been numerous days of snow flurries and short-lived squalls but no days of heavy snowfalls.

The little grouse that I have come across has spent much of the winter cold and wet. Chilly dankness isn’t good for any living thing with a set of lungs.

In a more normal winter, the grouse would find warmth, and protection from predators, by burrowing in deep and fluffy snow. That type of snow is their friend and does not restrict their ground travel because each fall they grow pectinations, fleshy bristles that act like snowshoes to help them walk across snow.

They certainly don’t need snowshoes this winter. Snow in many places has been only a few inches deep and hard and icy.

The current situation of little snow, icy rain and winds force the birds into thick conifer cover where they lose weight and perhaps starve or freeze. When they do venture out to find food, their weakened condition makes them easy prey for raptors, foxes and coyotes.

Not a pleasant scenario for a bird species already in decline in Ontario, and especially in northeastern states like Pennsylvania and New York, which estimates grouse populations are down 80 per cent since the 1960s.

Grouse are an important game bird, providing enjoyable recreational hunting opportunities, which in turn provides revenue for hunting-related industries and for government programs.

They are an important part of food chains, feeding on plants and insects while providing food for predatory birds and other animals.

They are an icon of our uplands. Their quick, sharp-turned flights and their spring drumming and elaborate courtship dances can’t help but intensify our fascination with nature.

I hope this little bird survives until spring when it can find a mate and produce some offspring that will in turn help rebuild grouse populations.

There is a chance it will. Daylight hours are getting longer and stronger and some late winter warm sun will encourage shrubs and trees to begin sprouting the buds and catkins that grouse love and need to survive.

The experts forecast that global temperatures will continue to rise, creating more winters like this one. If they are correct, we need to start figuring out how changed winters will affect our grouse and other wildlife and what we as individuals can do to help ensure their populations always are stable and healthy.

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