Like a beached whale

Chunks of ice were washed ashore by the high water in the Rideau River last week and now that the water level is dropping the ice is left stranded on the grass, melted by the sun that's making its presence felt, despite the cold wind.

Return of the geese

Pairs of Canada geese on the Rideau this morning, beside Stanley Park

The snow that fell yesterday will soon disappear; the grass in the parks is visible again (looking remarkably green on Sunday) and the geese are returning. The first thing I heard from outside this morning was a honking. We spotted three of them by the Ottawa River Parkway at the weekend and they're homing in on the Rideau now.

From the Hinterland Who's Who website:

Spring is a very energetically demanding time in a goose’s life, especially for breeding females. Canada Geese feed intensively during the few weeks before they leave southern agricultural areas to prepare for a period with little food when they first arrive on the northern breeding grounds. They will need sufficient reserves of fat and protein to complete migration, produce a clutch of eggs, and survive for about one month of incubation.

One of my friends told me she'd seen a beaver too, swimming in the Rideau.

Ice gone

On Thursday afternoon the surface of the Ottawa River in this part of town was still white. It rained on Thursday night and by Saturday all that ice had broken up and floated away. I saw a massive "island" of chunky ice moving slowly along, further downstream. It took only a few days for all the local rivers to flow free and fast. Walking across the Minto Bridges at the moment we can hear the high water swishing against the bridge supports. Its volume and speed is fearsome where the current's strong and at the calmer edges of the river it's almost overflowing its banks.

Green Island, and the swans

I walked onto Green Island last week, under the semi-circular walls of the Foreign Affairs building at 111 Sussex Drive (formerly City Hall) where a covered walk-way at river level allows a short cut to the Minto Bridges. I was expecting to see sandbags on the steps to the side doors to guard against water seeping into the ministry, but it seems the risk of spring floods this year hasn't been great enough to warrant placing them there.

The path took me past the Unity Tower. Directly under the tower there's a plaque, dated 1993:

Over the years, people from every land and continent have chosen to make Ottawa their home. The Unity Tower looks over Ontario and Quebec, and its symbolism extends to all of Canada. May it stand as an abiding reminder of the richness in diversity that is both our inheritance and our continuing gift to those whom come after us.

Another plaque on the grassy bank beside the tower refers to another kind of inheritance and to what I think is a sad story:

28 June 1967. These swans from the River Thames near Abingdon, Berkshire, the gift to the city of Ottawa of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, commemorate the centennial of the Confederation of Canada.

Off course the Royal Swans don't stay in one place as the Unity Tower does, even though they have their wings clipped and cannot fly away. "These swans" are no longer to be seen anywhere around Green Island; their descendants swim up and down the river between Cummings Bridge and Carleton University during the summer months, these days, and in winter—i.e. for two-thirds of the year!—despite repeated protests to the Ottawa Royal Swan Coalition by the Ottawa Humane Society, they're housed in less than ideal conditions at a facility on Leitrim Road until their new winter quarters can be made available at the Nepean Equestrian Park on Moodie Drive. During the bird flu scare of 2006 the birds were kept at Leitrim Road (aka Swantanamo Bay) all year round.

Last year, they were granted the relative freedom of the river from the end of May till October.

The robins are back

Wikipedia photo of an American robin

It was heartening to drive along the Rockcliffe Parkway this morning and see the widening patches of grass beneath the trees as the snow recedes under the blue sky. The buds on the trees are swelling too. The road, by the way, is riddled with potholes and from the lookouts you can still see people (ice fishermen?) walking about on the ice that remains on the northern side of the Ottawa River. I hope they know what they're doing, because most of the river in this area, to my amazement, is now clear of ice. The rain that fell midweek (at times heavy) must have loosened it.

Best of all, this morning, I noticed a flock of robins by the roadside: turdus migratorius —the summer birds have started to arrive!

The old railway bridge

"Bytown was located within the township of
Nepean, just west of the Rideau River, whereas New Edinburgh was located in the township of Gloucester, just east of the Rideau River. It was only in 1887 that New Edinburgh was annexed to Ottawa."
[...]
"McKay [1792-1855] was quick to grasp the potential of railroads, and he played an important role in the construction of the Bytown and Prescott Railway. Its charter was granted in 1850, and the company’s president was John McKinnon, a son-in-law of McKay. This 52-mile rail link ran east of the Rideau River, from Prescott on the St. Lawrence River through Gloucester Township to McKay’s mills [at the Rideau Falls]. The first train arrived in New Edinburgh on Christmas Day, 1854. During the following spring, a bridge over the Rideau River was completed, so that trains could directly enter Bytown, which was now only two hours from Ogdensburg, New York, and less than 24 hours from Boston."

From A VERY BRIEF HISTORY OF NEW EDINBURGH
By Robert Serré, President, Gloucester Historical Society

The remains of that "bridge over the Rideau," its stone supports, can still be seen near our house. Nowadays mallard ducks, mergansers, geese, herons and cormorants perch on these stones in the river, to preen themselves or look for fish. A plaque on the wall that once led to the bridge (visible in my photo) alludes to the history described above.

By car, because there's no opportunity to go by rail any more, it still takes a couple of hours at least to get from here to Ogdensburg or vice versa, depending on how much time you're held up by immigrations and customs at the border.

After rereading the above, I'm puzzled as to why the picture below was dated 1852, because this is surely a sketch of the bridge in question. Perhaps this picture was advance publicity for the bridge.

Houses on the river?

We went for a walk round Parliament Hill tonight, appreciating the view of the city's landmarks lit up after dark. Thousands of lights and plenty of nighttime colour; the only empty area we could see was, of course, the (mostly) frozen Ottawa River lying like a dark open field between all the buildings.

Empty as they seem, our rivers are the central focus of Ottawa-Gatineau, linking all parts of the metropolis.

Remembering that the city planners' main goal is to "develop the downtown core" I suddenly began to imagine what might be done, one day, with this underused open space: it could be built on. Construction on water, especially on water that freezes and floods, sounds unlikely at present, and none too sensible in this climate, but who knows? They are already experimenting with amphibious housing in the Netherlands and in Dubai, and I know someone who's been happily living in a boat on an English canal for the last few years.

A Google Image search for "amphibious houses" brings up quite a selection.

Having said all that, I confess I value the emptiness of the wide river at the heart of our city. It makes for a breathing space. Maybe it should be left alone after all.