All Categories

Tsolum Sid #4

10/11/2018

The daily chattering of the avians stops as dusk turns to darkness. Only the odd owl hoot disrupts the little green gang’s rhythmic croaking. The frog frenzy is intensifying as the moon masked by wispy clouds drifting by crosses the sky performing its lunar routine. “Before you two frightened each other Farnham asked me why I’m not singing with the masses” says Sid. “Well I am a Western Toad and not very vocal or musical.” A slight breeze gently swings Sid and the hammock. “Didn’t you know that Farnham?” asks Olive, frowning. “No-n-no” coos the young bird.

The Western Toad, or Bufo Boreas in Latin, has its own miraculous annual display. During the last release of rain before Summer’s dryness descends a mighty migration occurs in certain neighbourhoods of the watershed. Thousands of baby toads leave the safe shallow waters of their birth migrating out of the ponds, crossing roads and highways, hopping together in solidarity and with a sense of purpose. Many perish squashed by vehicles unable to avoid all, guiltily plying the temporary toad roads. It’s like a real time video game – how about we call it Squishy Squashy Toad Tag – which has fatal consequences for the unlucky. Most toadlets survive fanning out to repopulate the forests.

Tsolum Sid elaborates on the differences of amphibians and warns his friends about the latest threat to their survival, the brutes of the wetlands, non-native North American bullfrogs. “Those big bad bully-frogs are voracious predators and will eat us and the tree frogs for lunch if we let them!” Sid orates, jumping off the hammock and stretching his arms and legs to look as large and frightening as possible for a young little toad. Farnham flinches and hops backwards forgetting his perch and clumsily tumbles onto an assortment of last year’s leaves and grass covering the dark dirt. He quickly recovers and shakes his feathers from head to tail. Olive jumps up and hops around the ground pretending to be a bullfrog, looking more comical than threatening.

“If you think those frogs in the chorus are loud you should hear the adult bullfrogs bellow” says Sid. Olive begins chasing Farnham around, croaking madly in the lowest tone she can muster. “Kn-n-nock it off” Farnham cries, hopping about blindly. “Hey, it’s no joke” Sid continues seriously. “Humans brought the bullfrogs to Victoria many decades ago and do you know why?” Olive and Farnham shake their heads. “To be farmed for their legs which people eat in fancy restaurants! Can you believe that?” Tsolum Sid has a hard time believing it – after all he is a toad and a close cousin – it could be him on the people’s plates!

“My Grandpa Tommy Toad told me that someone thought bullfrog farming would be a great business for men returning from the horrific war the humans fought overseas” Sid remembers. “It didn’t work out too well because the top predator of small bullfrogs are large bullfrogs! They’re carnivorous cannibals” Sid exclaims. He climbs back into his cozy cocoon and stretches out. It is getting late as the light from the waning moon fades. Sid yawns. Farnham is still in shock. He has heard that chickens are cannibalistic but there are others?

“But how did they get here?” Olive asks, confused. “Humans again” Sid responds. “After the farms failed they set the survivors free in the wild and they mated and ate their way north. Grandpa Tommy also said those crazy humans imported them to sell at garden supply stores to “stock” their man-made backyard ponds. What are we? Isn’t that our job? Local Western toads, Pacific Chorus and Red-legged frogs will populate their private ponds.”

The night is quiet now. Farnham wobbles up to Sid and says “You’ve certainly g-g-given me a lot to dream about. I just hope I don’t have any nightmares!” and he flies to his nest for some rest. Olive curls up under Sid’s bed and says “Goodnight”.

What Sid doesn’t know if that these mean, green giants are not only detrimental to biodiversity and native species of amphibians but are also unaffected carriers of a fairly recently discovered fungus which is killing of many of the world’s frogs. The best thing to do is to destroy the bullfrog invaders when you find them. DON’T move them from pond to pond. DO correctly identify them – they are up to 20 cm long (extra large size), brownish green in colour with grey or yellow bellies (males), have very large round eardrum with skin folds wrapped around them, smooth skin (compared with bumpy toads) and they have deep loud calls. DON’T destroy them if in doubt – you wouldn’t want to harm the nice frogs and toads. DO click a digital photo and email it to bcfrogwatch@victoria1.gov.bc.ca . DO imprison suspicious characters while you wait for ID results. If they are the real bad guys DON”T let them escape. DO put them in a bucket of cold water for a couple of hours, then into the freezer. DO host or attend a neighbourhood Froggy Fest and encourage guests to catch, compare and consume these dangerous but delicious creatures. The leg meat tastes just like chicken – honest! They are not native and they are no welcome in our wetlands. For more information or to join the Pondwatch program to monitor your local ecosystem contact Frogwatch.

Laura Ann O’Brien

Tsolum Sid #3

1/4/2018

Last time we were together Tsolum Sid, a feisty young toad who lives in the Tsolum River watershed on Central Vancouver Island was reminiscing about the Spring flood that nearly flushed him and Bunny Beaver down the River faster than they wanted to go. The River overflowed her banks due to a combination of melting mountain snow and heavy Spring rains. River corridors can be dangerous at this time of year. Always be aware of your surroundings and rapidly changing weather conditions.

The days are getting longer and warmer. Tsolum Sid can hear the tree frogs chirping loudly from the pond in the field closest to his bountiful area of the River. Their proper name is Pacific Chorus frogs. Sometimes it is so loud that it wakes you up or prevents you from drifting off to sleep in the first place. Remarkable that these tiny creatures have such a loud voice. Sid knows it is also because there are so many of them gathering together for their annual Spring celebration. Sounds like the whole choir is here tonight!

The bountiful birds are squawking and settling down, tucked in safely for the night. Farnham Finch flits down to perch on a branch not far from Sid who is lounging in a makeshift hammock in the bush. “How’s Farnham today?” asks Sid sleepily. Farnham is a little jittery and easily excited, not just tonight but all the time. His small head bobs back and forth searching for any danger that may be lurking close by. “P-p-p-pretty good” stutters the nervous little bird. “I’m having trouble sleeping – the tree frogs are very noisy this year” he complains, twitching tersely. Sid happily replies “that’s a great sign. There must be lots of them.” Amphibians are an important indicator species for the health of the environment. Sid is very proud of that fact.

Farnham tweets sharply as he half hops, then glides to the small hemlock tree holding one end of Sid’s hanging bed. “How come you are not j-j-joining the chorus tonight Sid?” Farnham asks. Sid opens his mouth to respond but before he can Olive stealthily emerges from the River a few feet from slimy Sid and feathery Farnham. She stops to shake the water from her fur. Her actions have scared Farnham (it’s not hard to do!). He is unsure who is exiting the River so he flies to higher ground just in case he is considered prey.

Olive marches up into the forest smiling and laughing as she approaches Sid. “The frogs certainly are active tonight” Olive states. She enthusiastically flops down beside Sid sending air whooshing toward him causing his hammock to sway silently in the moonlight. Farnham glides back to his spot near Sid startling Olive this time. “Oh Farnham, you scare me” exclaims Olive. Sid can’t help laughing! “You two sure are nervous nellies.” Olive defends her actions by naming all the animals she might make a fine dinner for some day. Farnham pipes up “how do you think Sid and I feel? We’re really small and v-v-vulnerable.”

The daily chattering of the avians stops as dusk turns to darkness. Only the odd owl hoot disrupts the little green gang’s rhythmic croaking. The frog frenzy is intensifying as the moon masked by wispy clouds drifting by….

Tsolum Sid #2

10/26/2017

The adventures of Tsolum Sid, a friendly little toad who lives on the Tsolum River on northern Vancouver Island, continue. Last time, Sid and his friends, Olive the Otter, Calvin the Crayfish and Ernie Eagle learned the importance of riparian areas which are vital to the health of rivers and stability of the land. “Riparian” is used to describe the areas bordering rivers, streams, lakes and wetlands.

Today Tsolum Sid is basking in the early spring-like sun dreaming of the lazy days of summer right around the corner. “The weather has been unusually warm this year” Sid thinks to himself as his tiny toady toes dip into the flowing river. He's sitting on the little beach just upstream from the tunnels and caves that sometimes house Beth the Beaver and her clan. This spot is near the now beheaded Old Willow tree. The tunnels have nearly survived the wet winter but the snow melt and spring showers are yet to come. Sometimes the volume of water cascading down from the mountains can raise the river level from 2' to 8' in a flash.

Sid knows all about that! He remembers the spring a couple of years ago when he and Beth were surprised playing near the caves. Beth was in the River splashing Sid silly by kicking her back legs violently sending sloppy waves toward Sid. It didn't matter much because it was pouring with rain, like every other day that week, and Sid loves being wet. In fact if Sid isn't wet then something is wrong – after all he is a toad! “Hey Beth, that feels great!” he shouts above the splashing and rushing sound of nearby rapids which he thinks is growing louder.

Tsolum Sid recalls he was sitting on an old fallen log one end of which was partly jammed in one of the cave entrances. The log was probably deposited in its current position the last time the river raged. It is rotting away silently as brilliant bright green species of cushy moss feed voraciously on the decaying matter and are nourished by the early spring dew. Tiny tree saplings are on this delicate living moss bed bursting open their first set of leaves.

The sun is out and the nearly nightly frost has been absent for days. Sid is eyeing a newly hatched mini-mosquito who lands on a cluster of moss dangling on a limb protruding from the decaying log. Just as Sid is about to lunge at the tasty morsel Beth’s sister, Bunny pops her furry little head out of the water surprising Sid so much that he loses his balance and lets out an anxious squeal. The mosquito flies away oblivious to its close encounter with death. And Sid? Well, he fell into the river with a splash, crackle-like plop!

Beth stops kicking and yells “Water” with urgency in her voice. She clambers onto shore water rolling off her waterproof fur in large droplets. She scrambles to higher ground sensing the rising of the river. It is moving faster and faster by the second. The three friends hear numerous neighbourhood dogs loudly barking above the increasing roar of the rushing water. The rain’s relentlessness is raising the danger level.

Bunny, who is bobbing beside Sid, blurts “I swam down here as fast as I could to warn you that it’s raining real hard in the mountains and the wetlands and streams are all overflowing and….” Her voice trails off as she realizes nature’s noise; pounding rain, rushing water and gusting wind is drowning out hers.

Ernie the Eagle is perched on a nearby tree branch safely surveying the scene from sixty feet up. He notices big logs and other frothy forest debris rounding the upstream bend and barrelling straight toward Bunny and Sid! He lets out his infamous eagle cry hoping to warn the pair in time.

“Watch out!” shrieks Beth from the bank, her wide tail flapping excitedly on the grass. Just at that moment, Sid’s neighbour Marshall Mouse sails by wave-riding regally down the middle of the river on Uncle Toad’s bumpy back shouting “Get out of the river” at the top of his tiny lungs. His valiant cries are barely heard above the river’s roar.

Sid and Bunny’s amused gazes follow Marshall until Beth screams “Jump now!” They turn together their expressions morphing into terror. Their eyes meet and Bunny winks at Sid and he leaps onto her neck and holds on for dear life. Bunny dives deep just as the deathly debris crashes against the cave getting trapped briefly before the force pushes it back on its harrowing journey.

Sid and Betty resurface safely and climb onto shore to join Beth just as some children’s beach buckets, a red one and a blue one, float by. The river is almost level with the bank now and claiming some human’s forgotten summer outdoor gear. It won’t be long before she spills over and floods the riparian zone.

Tsolum Sid feels happy to be safe and thinks about all the essential nutrients, including rotting salmon flesh from last year’s spawn, this flood event will deposit on the stream bank and high into the forests and small streams to feed the trees, plants and creatures keeping them strong and healthy.

Sid feels a splash which startles him from his daydream and he realizes he is still sitting on the beach reminiscing in the warm winter sun of the present. His pals, Olive and Calvin watch him from the clear, calm water and giggle. “Were you asleep?” asks Calvin trying to contain himself. “No” says Sid. He tells them about his thoughts, shares the comical image of Marshall Mouse and reminds them to be very aware and safe playing around the Tsolum, or any other river, during times of hard rain and heavy snow melt.

Laura Ann O'Brien

Tsolum Sid #1

9/5/2017

In the middle of Vancouver Island the “Tsolum” (pronounced “sõlum”) is a peaceful river flowing through emerald forests. It is a ribbon of fresh mountain water snaking slowly down from the lakes of Mount Washington toward the Comox Bay estuary and the sea.

Creatures of all shapes and sizes share the surrounding space. Bears lumber and slumber, cougars stalk and sleep, deer roam and rest, wolves wander, 'coons creep, beavers build, otters swim, Douglas squirrels scurry in a hurry and bunnies bounce. Owls, eagles, turkey vultures and ravens rule the sky. Trumpeter swans and Sandhill cranes congregate on the wetlands and farmers' fields, while kingfishers, mergansers and mallards dip and dive to stay alive. Frogs, toads and salamanders croak and crawl. Crayfish, lamprey and mussels mysteriously move along the bottom of the river. Salmon spawn and trout travel. Insects and spiders thrive and humans survive.

In the middle of winter when swimming in the river will make most creatures shiver you will find a friendly little toad known as “Tsolum Sid” doing the froggy (or toady) kick. He makes his home in an old log lodged against the riverbank several kilometers upstream from the Bay. Sid has a few temporary homes on higher ground in the nearby forest for the numerous times when the river swells her banks and floods the riparian zone. But the old log is his favourite hideout.

Tsolum Sid loves winter. I know what you are thinking – don't toads, frogs and other amphibians hide and hibernate from the harshness of our freezin' season? Not Sid! He rejoices when the wind whistles up the river corridor while the water sometimes slowly, more often races down to sea. Some years it is so cold that ice forms along the shallow shore. Sid's fragile feet freeze as he hops along his log which makes his leaps longer and Sid stronger.

Today he is on his way to visit Olive the Otter. Olive is a river otter, a leaner cousin of the adorable ocean otter. She is usually found frolicking in a series of small, slippery caves that dot the river walls a short way upstream from Tsolum Sid's current space. Sid slides into the crisp water for a slosh through the slush. Ever cautious of the sounds that abound Olive's ears perk up as they interpret Sid's slight splashes as he advances closer. The river twists and turns frequently limiting visibility, and Sid is pretty tiny in the grandness of nature, after all he is a toad. Just as Sid shouts ”Hello” Olive spots her friend gliding under the greenery overhanging the bank. “Well, what a pleasant surprise!” exclaims a delighted Olive.

You see Olive is a young otter – it is her first year on her own since leaving her parents who live higher up the River. She visits them often but sometimes Olive gets lonely so she is always excited to see Tsolum Sid. They have great fun, chatting, chasing and challenging each other to diving contests. “Beat you to the bottom” Olive shrieks as she holds her breath and plunges purposefully into the depths of the local deep hole. Sid's legs flail furiously as he descends a mere second later. Olive wins – this time.

Just as she is giving Sid a big, wet thumbs up, joyous in her victory, Calvin the Crayfish suddenly appears from under a big, round rock. He is waving his claws wildly at his surprised friends. They all ascend quickly to the surface popping out of the water in unison surprising a crabby kingfisher on a nearby beach. The disturbed bird takes off downstream chattering angrily as he flies.

“Looks like Olive beat your bumpy legs again Sid!” Calvin taunts. Sid replies graciously. “That's OK. I'm a happy loser. The fun is in the thrill of the race and the company of friends.” Just then they recognize the excited cry of Ernie Eagle. The sound is coming from high above the woods to the west. He soars skillfully descending in slow circles. The air currents and his enormous wings guide his bulky body down to the rocky beach near Olive's set of caves. The three aquatic friends swim over to greet him, splashing and laughing as they go.

“What`s up Ernie?” Calvin asks. “I hoped I would find you here Sid” Ernie breathlessly blurts ignoring Calvin's query. “Catch your breath now” Olive coaches. Once Ernie's breathing returns to normal he tells the trio that he was on his way to visit Beth the Beaver and her family in the wetland when he noticed some men standing around Beth's summer hideout near the old bench by the big bend in the river. He didn't think much of it because he has seen lots of men standing around before.

“Just as I swooped away from the river I heard a loud buzzing sound.” “Were those guys raiding Blackie's honey stash?” asks Sid referring to their hibernating friend, Blackie the Bear. “The buzz was not of bees but chainsaws” clarifies Ernie. He tells his friends that he circled back around to have a closer look. As he glided slowly above the river the old willow tree by the bench that had stood guard over the water and baby salmon for as long as anyone could remember crashed to the ground snapping side branches which tumbled into the water. “I couldn't believe my eyes” declares Ernie “and I have great vision” he adds. He explained that all that remained was a 3' stump where the majestic protector had stood.

Olive was speechless. She twitched slightly and tiny tears slowly ran delicately down her brown fur. “I understand why man cuts wood” says Calvin “but not why they destroy streamside trees especially ones like Old Willow which are so important to us and the river.” And Calvin knows what he's talking about – years ago his family had to relocate when a group of large shade trees lining the river near their home were senselessly sawed and the water temperature soared seriously disturbing the aquatic climate.

And Sid remembers and shares with his friends the story of when his home was almost destroyed after Cooper's Corner collapsed into the river due to serious erosion the winter after the Coopers cut down all the trees to better the view from their cabin. The friends agree that they will spread the word about the importance of riparian trees for the health of the River and for the stability of people's land.

Tsolum Sid #4

Tsolum Sid #3

Tsolum Sid #2

Tsolum Sid #1

Laura Ann O'Brien...

Archives

Categories