The Northwest Territories Travels | Part 3 of 3 | Kaija Savinainen
Summer travels to Yellowknife and “beyond”
A short tale of meeting with some Spruce Grouse. My family had all gone into Yellowknife for the day. I was left with Sammi to spend the afternoon hiking and sketching. The black flies proved particularly bothersome, so we returned to the cabin. Penny and her group had left. And all was quiet, peaceful, serene. I decided to sit, sketch, observe the landscape in the warm afternoon sun. Sammi was asleep by the steps in a deep in slumber, exhausted from our outing. I heard soft cooing sounds or as described on a birding website “short kuk, nasal purr” of a female spruce grouse. There, a mere 20 feet away were two lovely little ladies. The female spruce grouse has excellent camouflage making them difficult to spot. Yet, there they were picking lingonberries. I was of no consequence to them. Moments later out of the taller shrubs emerged two male spruce grouse, feathers puffed out strutting their stuff. Handsome little guys they are with some brilliant red markings above their eyes.
It was astonishing to see them so close. I found it fascinating to watch the males dance and high step around the ladies. Their tail feathers moving rhythmically back and forth, chests puffed out. “Look at us, we are so darn good looking”! For several minutes this scene carried on. And then, where were the ladies? They had departed, leaving us standing nose to nose. One of the males continued his flash dance looking directly at me. He came closer and closer; we were almost eyeball to eyeball. Then he too realized the girls had left. He folded up his tail feathers and just like that he too was gone.
From as far back as I can remember I have always been a person watching, observing the world around me. It is who I am. I have been that oddball quiet person not always by choice but often by necessity. It was by chance a friend loaned me a book, urging me to read it, a biography Woman watching, Louise de Kiriline Lawrence and the Songbirds of Pimsi Bay, by Merilyn Simonds. Lucy said, “this reminds me of you!” It sat on my desk for months. I did peak at the book reading certain parts I found poignant and intriguing. The book follows a woman who grew up in Sweden, ended up travelling to Russia as a nurse in 1917. It describes in detail her experiences of what life was like during war. How grindingly difficult survival was. My grandfather would have been in the same area of Russia at that very time as she was. I was spellbound. I was captivated.
The book continues of her journey to Canada where she was a nurse for a year to the Dion quintuplets. Eventually she settles in the North Bay area. She had always had a deep bond with nature, especially birds. She describes, kept copious notes of her daily, annual observations. Her work as an amateur ornithologist is now held in high regard by various institutions. Remember, she was a woman, and women then were rarely given any credit or recognition for their efforts. She speaks a truth that may be very uncomfortable for many and it will offend others. She sees far into the future of what is yet to come. “I am tending to believe that all effort along these lines [of conservation] is horribly futile if the control of man cannot be intelligently achieved…We are too many. For populations gone wild the consequences are inevitable.” p 308. An uncomfortable truth it is.
Take time, sit quietly and observe the natural world. Revere what we have. It is disappearing all too quickly.
Evening at Peninsula Lake, 2024