New Brunswick, Black-capped Chickadee and Balsam Fir

The symbols of New Brunswick, its provincial bird, the black-capped chickadee and its tree, the balsam fir cover the hand-carved map of New Brunswick in this linocut. The block was inked 'à la poupée' (with different colours, black, gold and green, in different areas) and printed by hand on lovely Japanese kozo (or mulberry) paper. Each print is 21.1 cm by 20.3 cm (8.3" by 8"). The print is one of an edition of twelve.

The acrobatic, but rather tame chickadee, with its distinctive black cap, has long been one of my favorites. It's the only bird I can persuade to reply to me; it will actually answer when I cry, "Chickadee-dee-dee!" The balsam fir (Abies balsamea) is also distinctive, with narrow, flat needles are which shiny dark green above and white below and it grows large pine cones. It is native to most of eastern and central Canada and much of the northeastern US. It makes an excellent Christmas tree. Every visit to the province leaves the impression of vast, dense, forest, filled with wildlife, so covering the entire province with the depiction of a tree seemed apt.

I've had the great priviledge of having seen much of this country and having travelled from coast to coast. (I am still hoping to visit the third coast). I've visited New Brunswick several times, coming down from Québec, up from Maine or west from Nova Scotia. I've even spent a couple of frosty weeks sailing in the misleadingly-named Baie des Chaleurs. At least in October, it was anything but warm. The province is the original home of my RJH and his family, so I know I will return time and again. (In fact, I made this as his Christmas gift, but the rest of the edition can be found in my shop).

Trip photos: More New Brunswick

I was tempted to call this "the rest of New Brunswick, but I know that's not fair. There are places we didn't visit or drive through. But, we did visit Saint John, Saint Andrew, camp on Deer Island, and visit Frederictor, and then drive from Woodstock to Québec, passing through a lot of the province. It was pretty thorough for a short trip. All my photos of Saint John are of people you don't know, and their kids, so I'll skip to Deer Island (near Campobello).






Seals!

Bunny rabbit!

We drove down to the ferry to Deer Island, after visiting friends in Saint John. RJH had camped there two years previous, and had wanted to bring me there. We found a site in the woods, where we could watch the tidal whirlpool, the seals and even a passing minke whale while sitting by our campfire. It was a beautiful place. In the morning we explored a little and then drove to Fredericton, to visit so more friends. On the way, we stopped briefly in St. Andrews, which is a very pretty (if touristy) seaside town.







Deer, outside Fredericton.

We spent a couple more nights at the camp and visiting RJH's family and then we headed northeast through NB towards Québec. I love the moose signs in NB. Unlike the simple 'MOOSE' signs south of the border, in New Brunswick they want to ensure you understand the scale of the issue.



They aren't kidding. That isn't even an especially large moose. They have special moose fences lining hundreds of kilometers of highways, with one way exits for stray moose. I was trying to explain to our young 8 year old friend in Saint John about the fences around Osgoode Hall, here in Toronto (home of his aunt's employer, the Law Society of Upper Canada). I explained that the fences were built to keep the cows from harassing the law students, 150 years ago, when there were apparently, random wandering cows in downtown Toronto, menacing law students. The gate has two corners, which evidently is too much for the bovine brain to manage. I explained that the fence was like the NB moose fences, except for Ontario cows, designed to allow animals out, but not in. His 3 year old brother, without missing a beat, asked, "If moose can get out, but not in, why do they need the gates at all? How do they get there in the first place?" That really impressed me. I was always pleased if I could get an undergraduate to display deductive reasoning and critical thinking. Though, I wonder sometimes if it's common at 3 and we scare it out 'em.

Bay of Fundy and the Hopewell Rocks

After a hardy breakfast in Sussex, we headed for the Bay of Fundy National Park. Ignoring Audrey the Annoying GPS Receiver's commands to continue to Moncton, we instead followed the road signs to the park, along a road she deemed 'unpaved'. It was paved, just poorly with plenty of badly patched bits. It was rather surprising that this was the official road to a National Park and UNESCO World Heritage Site (for those keeping score, this was UNESCO World Heritage Site number 3, after Peggy's Cove and Lunenberg... though it's more impressive when the Bluenose is around). Amusingly there was a big road sign about what Irving Forestry was doing for the environment; obviously, re-paving roads destroyed by logging trucks was not on the agenda. This being New Brunswick, if you tell the lady in the booth that you intend to drive straight through the National Park, they don't charge you at the gate.



We did see the industrious beaver, building by the side of the road.



Due to the immense tide there are large tidal flats, and all the boats in Alma appear to have run aground at low tide.



There appears to be a rule: if you go to New Brunswick, you must visit one covered bridge.



This really says we get 8 feet of snow here and do not wish to fall in the river and die.

When we got to the Hopewell Rocks it was still near low tide so we were able to explore a bit in the brilliant sunshine. I got sun burnt, but it was something to see. The wet sand was muddy and slippery, as was the seaweed. Wellington boots would have been a better choice of foot ware. The so-called 'flowerpot rocks' - bit rocks topped with trees, perched on small tidally eroded stems, were impressive.





I was collecting the 'stickmen in peril' signs on this trip.




The bird, according to the park ranger, is a peregrin falcon parent whose eggs hatched 11 days prior. It was certainly in a rush. We tried to get more shots of it, or its partner, flying. Then we went back up the cliff, washed off the mud at the convenient shoe-cleaning station, and went to see the nest from the lookout. You can see the falcon and baby falcons if you look carefully.



(There are more photos on my photostream.)