It's over sixty years ago that we bought our first house, a semi-detached bungalow just north of Toronto in Richmond Hill. A few years later we had a little family of three very young children. Irving has always been busy doing things. In those early years he decided to build a little shed in the backyard. Where he would keep pigeons. Before that, we had brought home a very young Pekin duck, and the poor thing did nothing but wail the first day expressing confusion and loneliness.

Soon banty hens followed, including a little rooster. And eventually some domesticated rabbits. One of the rabbits was a black-and-white Dutch and he was so tiny we decided in a spur of imagination that he would be an indoor pet. We named him Benjy. Benjy was never confined, he roamed about everywhere in the house. He learned to leave his droppings on paper in the tiny front vestibule. And at night he slept under our bed. We would hear him preparing for sleep; scrubbing up the carpeting under the headboard.

We thought that though we were living in a city suburb, our children would benefit from being a little closer to nature, becoming familiar with animals. We also had a little dog. The children were interested in none of the animals. But all these years later we continue to be interested in the wildlife around us living now in an area adjacent to an urban forest that teems with wildlife.

We noticed in the last few days that the little wild rabbit that visits the porch day and night along with the squirrels and birds to pick up little treats has re-engineered the tunnel he dug out of the snow under one of the garden yews where he now has his den. Now he has an ingress and egress point. The latter on the side of the house, making it handier and closer for him to just emerge and saunter up the walkway to the porch when the nibbling mood takes him.

And finally, it seems he has decided to vary his diet a little more. Although peanuts appear to be his favourite treat, he regularly nibbles then hauls off the carrots Irving puts out for him. But now he has finally given the bunny kibble Irving bought on the weekend a try. We thought the squirrels might be interested in it, when the rabbit seemed to take no notice of it placed in a low, square plastic container. But there, after days of sitting ignored, was the rabbit nibbling at the kibble.

It was just a tad milder today, at -8C, with morning sun and slight wind. By the time we made it out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon walk it was late, just after four, and clouds had moved in. We had slept in again and it took me a bit longer to clean the house. But off we went up the street thick with snow and ice that will remain plastered on the road until the arrival of March. The nice thing about approaching February is that we'll be enjoying longer daylight hours.

Already, on this last day of January 2022, there's been a big difference, over a half-hour -- more like 40 minutes -- of daylight before dusk begins falling. So we're not so anxious going out to the forest trails and leaving Jackie and Jillie off leash as we were in December when by 4:30 dark had crept in and we were concerned over the presence of coyotes.

Even at -8C with wind, it tends to feel cold when you're not striding along. When we were about four-fifths through our circuit this afternoon we came across two older men, acquaintances of ours, and stood around talking for far too long. Earlier encounters with other people and their dogs were of a much shorter duration. This time we felt the cold. And before we reached street level, Jackie was lifting one of his booted little feet, hopping along on three legs, which he manages quite skillfully until one of us picks him up. 

Protesters gather on Parliament Hill to demonstrate against vaccine mandates, on Saturday. (Alexander Behne/CBC)

I noticed a news item in one of our daily newspapers to the effect that the peaceful anti-government protests that began in Kazakhstan over rising fuel prices a month ago got away from protest organizers when they turned violent, led by masked men. There is anger among protest organizers and participants over what they perceive as having been tricked into fuelling a power struggle with the government; that highly organized, armed men hijacked their protest.

That type of thing has been happening for decades in the West. Where protests meant to demonstrate to authorities that their decision-making has failed to reflect the wishes of those who voted them into a position of administrative power have been taken advantage of by malign forces. Far-right groups have always sought to take advantage of mass gatherings to infuse their own message into a general protest.

 

Often protests over civil liberties or mandates that fail to sit well among a population fed up with government edicts see both the left and the right entering the fray, coming to loggerheads with threats and intimidation, leaving a layer of soiled intentions over the decision of people to gather in a civil display of efforts to counter government infringement on nations' covenant rights between government and the governed. 

People and vehicles fill Wellington Street near Parliament Hill during a rally against COVID-19 restrictions, which began as a cross-country convoy protesting a federal vaccine mandate for truckers, in Ottawa on Saturday. (Justin Tang/The Canadian Press)

 

My parents were socialists. My mother never saw a peace rally that she wouldn't take part in. I found it personally puzzling that my mother would engage in these protests, sometimes bordering on civil disobedience. She and the others who gathered their courage to march in a joint declaration condemning war and human rights abuses were confident that justice should prevail.

Years ago I prevailed upon my Christian-Egyptian neighbours to accompany me to a peace rally protesting the incipient invasion of Iraq by a U.S.-led coalition. I knew far less then than I do now about Saddam Hussein's virulent nationalism, Arabism and racist ideology responsible for attempted genocide of Iraqi Kurds and a prolonged, deadly war with Iran. We three drove downtown to the site of the peace rally, on a frigid -20C winter day.

I recall marching across a bridge linking Quebec and Ontario and being aware that the sheer numbers and the cadence of the marchers was swaying the bridge. And I became aware of something that quite shocked me: the presence of people carrying banners and placards holding Israel responsible for the oncoming Western coalition determined to invade Iraq only years after the U.S. had formed an earlier coalition to free Kuwait from Iraq's invasion.

I'm sure my Egyptian neighbours saw the signs, they were impossible to ignore. I said nothing, they said nothing, the protest continued. I will never attend another such protest in the knowledge that Canadian society is well infiltrated with Hamas and PFLP sympathizers and Palestinians who sought refuge in Canada from a greater Middle East that saw their presence as unpalatable, yet brought their deceptive slurs against Israel with them, to infect a wider audience who now feel free to express their vicious anti-Semitism for a 'cause'.

The current truckers' rally presently taking place throughout Canada and where long convoys of trucks have gathered in Ottawa to express their dissatisfaction with the Liberal government's mandates on vaccinations against the coronavirus being unreasonable and a potential threat to vital distribution of goods and food in the country represents a free society's citizens exercising their rights of protest.

And it has been infiltrated by those same malign, vicious, violence-prone influences of far-right nationalism, racism and anti-Semitism. It's there, and it's a curse on any society. Swastikas and Confederate flags in full view, expressing sentiments this truckers' rally was not meant to reflect. At the National Cenotaph, rioters deliberately trampled on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, 'dancing'.

Protesters gathered around Parliament Hill and the downtown core for the Freedom Convoy protest, some making their way from various locations across Canada, Sunday January 30, 2022. Photo by Ashley Fraser /Postmedia

 

It was time for us to head out again to replenish our stock of wildlife feed. Which means a drive out to the rural location of our local feed and seed emporium. Irving mused he might as well pick up some bunny pellets while he was at it. It's turned into yet another very cold day. Environment Canada has changed course, from informing us a few days ago that early February will be milder than normal, to now telling us that this extreme cold weather is set to continue.

 

So, -21C this morning, but the temperature managed to shove its way up to -16C by early afternoon. With the wind chill factor that would be adjusted to -23C. But we had a clear blue sky and the sun sat high in its throne transiting the ocean of blue and while neither wind nor sun are able to make their full appearance inside the forest interior shielded by the forest canopy, wind has a better chance than sun.

 

 

Visually, an absolutely stunningly glorious day. And driving out to Ritchie's in the eastern suburbs of the city, we wouldn't be anywhere near where security authorities tell us to avoid; the city centre, and of course highways that give ingress to the downtown of the city. Which is being swamped today and tomorrow by the presence of trucks driven by aggrieved long- and short-haul truckers from east to west of the country. Protesting against the nonsensical mandate of COVID-19 restrictions insisting that all truckers be vaccinated. 

 

An estimated 90 percent of all Canadian truckers are vaccinated against COVID. Those that prefer not to be are placed in the position of having no employment. This, at a time when the industry is looking for thousands of new truckers to move critical goods around the country. Complicated by the fact that our largest trading partner, one from whence the bulk of our fresh fruit and vegetables come from (along with Mexico), in a marketplace of rising fuel prices and haulage and maritime bottlenecks are contributing to higher prices and less food accessibility.

 

So we thought we'd tend to first things first, and that would be taking ourselves out for a brisk winter hike through the ravine. Layered under our winter jackets to the extent we feel like mummies. Hoping that this time the pervasive cold wouldn't penetrate. Irving made sure he had refreshed his cookie cache and off we went.

Jackie and Jillie are very well aware of that cache, and we're barely into the trail leading down to the ravine's forest when they begin clamouring for treats. That's the first installment; a second to follow shortly afterward. And after that, they're good to go. It's nothing short of emotional blackmail. But their lust for cookies satisfied, they turn their attention to catching up on the messages left hither and yon on any protruding low-level branches of trees we pass, or tree trunks containing the latest canine gossip.

 

These brief pauses are just fine; they're endowed with four legs to our two, and by the time we catch up to them, they're back in motion again. This time, on the lookout for the presence of any injudicious members of the wider community who may have ventured into the forest without seeking proper permission from the two little guardians of the forest.

It's usually Jillie who sets off in full voice, scolding and imperious: do  you know who we are? Nature has entrusted them with the well-being of the forest and it is their prerogative to allow others to roam freely, or hold them to account for gross impertinence. Fortunately, most people find this amusing, as we apologetically explain it's a breed-specific behaviour that no amount of chastising on our end can cure.

 

And the dogs accompanying these people usually realize that the two little pipsqueaks' ranting while annoying, is harmless. Nothing that a good sniffing session at unmentionable parts cannot satisfy. Eventually, we made our way back home again. When it was time to reward our companions for their exemplary behaviour, with their daily afternoon fresh vegetable salad.

 

Once done, their anxiety over our taking obvious steps to leave the house again was assuaged when they were invited to accompany us. And so we drove out to Ritchie's Feed & Seed. The parking lot wasn't as full as it often is for which we were grateful. Irving put on  his N-95, and rubberized gloves, and soon returned with two fifty-pound bags of peanuts, and a five-pound bag of bunny pellets. As a trial, to see whether the rabbit would eat it along with the carrots Irving puts out for him.

Something that hadn't occurred to me for a long time, casting about in my mind for something different to bake for tonight's dessert. And so I turned to Irving and said how about an apple strudel? Apple anything is fine with him, but strudel, next to apple pie is one of his many favourites and we haven't had one in ages. So strudel it would be. 

The fly in that ointment so to speak was that I started late because we stayed abed late this morning, on a -21C morning. Jackie and Jillie don't mind; they'd just snuggle in for as long as it takes, happy to share the comfort of warmth and put off having to go out to the backyard. Once we stir, though, Jillie begins her little staccato barks delivering her inimitable 'wake-up!' message.

 

Our little rabbit neighbour now comes over regularly to visit, at any time of day and into the night. He's shy of sounds and movement from the house interior, so we try to keep Jackie and Jillie otherwise entertained when the little fellow is around, to give him the chance to take possession of the carrots Irving puts out for him, and to relax on the porch nibbling peanuts when the mood strikes him. 'Him', I'm assuming a lot; he hasn't told us yet his name is Peter.

 

Anyway, I put together the dough for the strudel and set it aside to rest. It needs about an hour to ripen and prepare itself for being elastically rolled out and filled with fruit. The idea, of course, is to roll it out as thinly as possible, so it's semi-transparent. While it was resting, I wasn't. I kneaded up a bread dough, put on a chicken soup, marinated deboned, skinned chicken thighs, and prepared the strudel filling. I decided to use some snipped candied ginger and glace dried fruit to mix in with the apples for a little extra colour and taste bite.

 

When the strudel was finally baked, we were free and clear to go out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie, on this sunny, windy, and quite cold winter day. The temperature had edged up to -14C and it wasn't going to get any warmer today, so what we had was what we got. Irving had cut the tips of several of his fingers when he was inserting new blades in his glass cutter. So it makes it difficult for him to put the rubber boots on Jackie and Jillie.

 

My fingers lack the strength to pull the booties sufficiently wide to slip the puppies' tiny feet into them. So that was awkward and time-consuming. We put extra layers ourselves on under our down jackets. Even so, once we were out in the ravine where the temperature tends to be colder than at street level, we could feel the fingers of icy wind probing deeply enough so we could feel the cold beneath the layers.

 

In other words we had no reason whatever to linger and dawdle on the trails, and every reason to walk as briskly as possible as we hiked through newly-snow-dusted trails. A surprising number of other people from the community the ravine ambles through were also out with their dogs, and a good number of those dogs are familiar with Irving, enough so that they rush over and anxiously await his fumbling into the pouch he carries full of dog cookies.

 

Assuming there's one and none others, our little wild rabbit neighbour appears to have settled himself down for the winter under one of our sprawling, thickly needled and low-growing yews in the garden. The little path he's made for himself reflects his shape, and there's lots of droppings to indicate his presence. We believe he has tunnelled into the snow under the shelter of the thickly-snowed-in tree to fix up a handy den for himself. 

 

Among the multitude of squirrels that come by the porch to treat themselves to peanuts there are some we think we can identify, not from the way they appear, but from their behavioral characteristics. We can't be certain seeing this little rabbit time and again whether it's a single creature, or there's more about. We do on occasion see him in other seasons of the year, but he's become more visible to us this winter. And that's because he's been coming around specifically to the porch, where others make themselves comfortable.

 

 

We've seen him chased away by one particularly aggressive black squirrel who does the same to other squirrels, but we've also seen him on occasion on the porch with birds, none bothering one another. Last night when we went up to bed, glancing out the front door as  usual, we saw him sitting solitary and appearing pensive, in the snow in front of the porch.

 

 

And this morning he was on the porch again, after the carrots put out for him had satisfactorily 'disappeared', and just a few inches from where the rabbit sat was a tiny red squirrel, each busy nibbling peanuts. The rabbit is incredibly sensitive to movement, and if he detects a shadow or anything that might arouse his suspicion, he simply disappears. The squirrels tolerate our presence and aren't likely to make themselves scarce, sometimes even standing aside and waiting while peanut reinforcements are put out on the porch floor. 

 

Some of the raccoons have done the same thing, just moved over a bit to allow some space between themselves patiently waiting, and Irving when he's dispensing goodies, but remaining on the porch. The cardinals are less apt to fly off at the slightest move, but not yet as bold as the chickadees. And the crows' sensitivity to movement equals that of the rabbit's.

 

We had another frigid night last night, of -21C, and windy, but by afternoon the temperature had risen to -8C, a little colder in the ravine, with a notable wind and some snow flurries. Yesterday's -18C kept us at home, though we're loathe to miss a day hiking through the forest trails. Because it was so relatively mild, at least 8 degrees 'warmer' than yesterday, we decided we'd gamble on a long hike.  We weren't the only ones in the community making a similar decision.

From time to time we came across other people out with their dogs, large and small, some of which were beyond lively, running ahead of their humans and delighted to see people and other dogs about, challenging them to a race or a tumble in the snow. Their amusingly enthusiastic antics would being a smile of appreciation, you would think, to any sour human face.

Yesterday's extreme-cold warning of an overnight low of -31C doesn't appear to have occurred, last night. But it was still an impressively cold -21C when we came down for breakfast this morning, after climbing out of our comfortably warm bed. Cold enough to debate whether to put sweaters on Jackie and Jillie before going out to the backyard with them, to keep them from freezing. 

We decided against and they sensibly did their thing, then zipped up the stairs to the deck to enter the warm house. Once in the house they let loose with a zany chase scene, whipping about from floor to sofa after one another. Either exuberant from their brief introduction to another very cold day, or exhilarated by the assurance that breakfast wouldn't be long in coming.

I was momentarily arrested glancing out the front door at the sight of three black squirrels on the porch, and in their midst the brown colour of the rabbit, no one bothering anyone else, occupied with picking up peanuts, the rabbit nibbling at the end of a broken carrot. It was but a brief little scene of trust and serenity, soon dissipated with the appearance of a grey squirrel who took it officiously upon himself to declare the rabbit persona non grata.

As quick as a blink of the eye, the rabbit was gone. Yesterday, returning from our afternoon course through the forest trails, we noticed a short trail leading from the upper part of the driveway to, and under the snow-packed branches of one of the garden yew trees. Where, presumably, the rabbit (or one of several rabbits) burrowed a little tunnel.

When the squirrels had had their fill, they decamped. The two pieces of carrot remained on the porch. Ten minutes later they were gone. Ending up, we theorized, in the tunnel.

The day warmed up to -18C, with wind and sun. The sun, streaming through the patio doors in the morning hours usually entices Jackie and Jillie to take up position as winter-sun-loving little dogs, to soak up a little warmth from the illuminated streams of sunlight filtering through the glass panes.

 

Environment Canada has been issuing one extreme-cold-weather warning after another this winter. Ottawa is usually a snowy location, but even the snowstorms last week that brought us a 60cm accumulation don't reflect the height of the usual snowpack that accumulates over an average Ottawa winter. On the other hand, the region has been shivering under much colder temperature lows than is usual for a normal winter season.

And we're not yet finished with the extreme cold. Tonight's low might break a weather record if it eventuates as forecasted; -31C, with a day-time high expected tomorrow of -20C. We've often enough in past winters had the odd -20C afternoon high, but never a low approaching -30C. We don't have long to wait to see if that's what occurs.

 

On these really cold mornings when the temperature has recovered only to around -25C, on its way to 'warming', we put little woolly sweaters on Jackie and Jillie before taking them out to the backyard. They've learned to high-tail it back up to the deck to be let into the house as soon as their morning business is done. When they tarry to play together, racing about the backyard in an excess of enthusiasm, or spend time sniffing about after the wildlife scents, they tend to suddenly freeze up, paws lifted, each in turn, as they freeze.

 

For dinner last night, thinking of something 'heavier', warming and comforting on a day when the thermometer couldn't be nudged above -14C, I roasted a Cornish hen, made an egg-noodle pudding and steamed Brussels sprouts to accompany the meal. We had hard, sweet, fresh green grapes as dessert, and it all went down very nicely. There isn't a single portion of that menu that doesn't appeal to Jackie and Jillie, with the exception of the grapes, a doggy no-no.

 

This morning when we did our food shopping, we once again encountered empty shelves. There was more than ample fresh fruits and vegetables to suit anyone's needs. Processed and packaged foods appear to be most scarce, and we don't bother with them anyway. Plenty of different types of eggs and lots of cheeses. The only real surprise was the refrigerated meat counters, with their unusually bare shelves. There was beef and there was pork, just less of it. But the corker was no chicken but for a few packs of thighs and attached legs that I usually use for chicken soup, and packages of chicken wings.

 

Both Canada and the United States have enacted COVID legislation mandating inoculation for truck drivers. Fully 80 to 90 percent of Canadian truckers are vaccinated, but only 50 percent of U.S. truckers. Campaigns are in the works to persuade governments to backtrack, to excuse truck drivers from such mandates as part of the critical delivery infrastructure to ensure food security. An estimated 10,000 long-haul trucks are now off the road as a direct result of the vaccine mandate affecting truckers.

 

A light dusting of about 5cm of snow came down this morning. And then along came blue sky and full sun. The afternoon high crept up to -10C, with an icy wind, but still decent enough for Jackie and Jillie to haul us out to the ravine for an early afternoon hike through the forest trails. The trails are in fairly good shape, though it remains somewhat difficult to march along with the usual carefree confidence. Ascending hills is slower and there's a tendency to slip backwards in the snowpack covering the trails.

The sun illuminating the forest canopy from its height-trajectory in the sky creates a luminous landscape of transcendent beauty, and at different points the various vistas make one stop and gaze at the spectacle, ample reward for a little effort to transcend the cold and awkwardness of negotiating wind-penetrating cold and maintaining a stable equilibrium on slippery, ice-bound trails.

 

 

We were wondering this past week where the rabbit had gone. We've been putting carrots out for him for months, and they're usually gone in an hour or so after they've been put out. Irving always shovels a clear space for the rabbit at the middle of the back fence, since that's where we often see him/her. It occurred to Irving that since the last big snowfall perhaps access has been hampered for the little fellow. He can't slip through the slats at the bottom of the fence closing in our backyard.

So Irving began leaving the gate open to give him freer access. But the carrots languished (frozen solid) uneaten and left us puzzled. What had happened to the little guy? Then yesterday, there he was sitting on the porch. Sitting absolutely still. Irving had put a carrot out on the porch as well, snapped into smaller pieces. But the rabbit appeared not to be interested in eating though he had nibbled the ends, and there was cubed French toast left over from the morning's breakfast, along with plenty of peanuts.

We've seen him on the porch before, eating peanuts. He appeared yesterday in the late afternoon, and seemed comfortable enough. The presence of squirrels never seemed to have bothered him when we've seen him there on previous occasions. And then he returned and was there on the porch serenely seated and again not eating, just sitting there as though contentedly when we went up to bed after midnight.

Irving feels responsible for the well-being of the little wild creatures that come along from time to time. The forested ravine runs alongside the street our house is on. The houses across the street from ours back on to the crest of the ravine and it drops away sharply beyond their back yards. It isn't too far a trip for raccoons, squirrels, skunks and rabbits to visit when they feel like it.

We've noticed that the cardinals, unlike the chickadees and juncos that come along in late morning, early afternoon, tend to come along just before dusk falls. Whenever they come, and however they travel, we delight in seeing them. Not sure how we'd feel about seeing a coyote on the porch, but that hasn't happened yet.

Jackie and Jillie would certainly have a lot to say about their presence. 

We're in the deep depths of winter cold, with temperature falling to -27C and -29C at night. Making snuggling into bed at night for all of us under the depth of a winter duvet pure pleasure. What hasn't been too pleasant is deciding to remain at home the last few days, foregoing our usual daily traipse through the forest trails in the ravine we access up the street from our house.

Just too cold. -19C with wind has had Jackie and Jillie zipping quickly back into the house from the backyard when they go out to evacuate. One of us always accompanies them and when it's this cold it's just as well. Often they don't seem to realize how cold it is and they want to play in the snow together, run after one another, do a little bit of stand-up boxing, and then the cold suddenly hits them and they freeze. Literally.

And that's when they don't seem to be able of their own volition to even move. We swoop them up and haul them back inside. The snow invigorates them and the extreme cold turns them into little frozen statues, the realization sneaking up on their awareness that it's suddenly too old to even move because the cold is painful.

They adjust to being at home instead of having a break outside, but when the weather relents enough to enable us to get out they're overjoyed at the freedom they're faced with in the woods to race about and catch up with anything they may have missed.

This is the kind of weather where you want to have a hot, aromatic bowl of soup to restore your creature comforts. Which means we've been having quite a lot of soup lately. Jackie and Jillie pass on the soup, but they're keen on the vegetables that go into soup.

Today's 'warmest' point of the day was late-morning/early-afternoon when the temperature sat at -12C, slightly colder in the ravine. If we waited to later in the afternoon it would be around -16C, so we decided to nip out a little earlier than usual. The wind was to our faces walking up the street to the ravine entrance, and it was amply cold, but the sun was hard at work trying to temper the wind's influence, until we got to the forest interior and both sun and wind effects were diminished. 

The forest creek is completely frozen over. In most places snow has billowed over the frozen creek so it cannot be distinguished from anywhere else on the forest floor. In areas that are slightly more open to wind, it sweeps the snow away and the ice can be seen, white and opaque.

Wildflowers that were the last to bloom in late fall remain dry and upright through all the storms that hit in the winter, ferocious as some of them can be. The vegetation remains defiantly upright, their flowers turned into clinging little nettles that like to burrow deep into little dogs' haircoats if they get the chance. Those that asters produce are particularly prickly, looking for a ride home on unsuspecting dogs.