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by Our Canada Magazine a Division of Reader's Digest

For three summers, I had the opportunity to work as a “species at risk” researcher at both Kejimkujik National Park and National Historic Site, and the Mersey Tobeatic Research Institute in Nova Scotia. Through this work, I was introduced to a species of turtle that would gain a very special place in my heart, the Blanding’s turtle.

  Blanding’s turtles are an endangered species in Nova Scotia, and therefore have extensive conservation efforts focused on them. One of these efforts is the protection of their nests each June, which I have been lucky enough to help out with for the last four nesting seasons. Nest protection occurs in all three of the known Blanding’s turtle populations—Kejimkujik National Park, McGowan Lake and Pleasant River—and wouldn’t be possible without many incredible volunteers.

  It all begins around 7 p.m. each night, when the blackflies and mosquitoes start buzzing around and the heat of the day slowly begins to cool. This is when I head to the campground in “Keji” to meet up with the rest of the volunteers, who spend their evenings monitoring beaches and roads for nesting turtles.

  Most of the nesting turtles we know about are found on the cobble beaches of Kejimkujik Lake, but many also find the shoulder of roads desirable. Thankfully, the volunteers are there to make sure cars slow down. Reduced speed limit signs are put up and speed bumps are installed in one area.

  My favourite places to monitor for turtles are the beach sites. There is nothing to complain about when you get to be outside on a nice summer evening, walking along a beach at sunset while listening to frogs and birds. Even the bugs can’t ruin the night. Every so often we stop, grab our binoculars and scan the beach for turtles up ahead. Too often, there are turtle rocks, which, as their name implies, are rocks that look like turtles—they fool me every time!

  Sometimes, however, those “rocks” begin to move and you realize it’s an actual turtle! That’s when I get a little excited, as it means we might get to fulfill our purpose. Sometimes, a turtle will just be wandering along the beach; other times, it’s already digging a hole. If it’s in the process of digging, we slowly and quietly sneak up to it for a closer look.

  If the turtle becomes startled, it might disappear into the water and not return that night, but if it’s committed to nesting, it isn’t easily disturbed. At this point, we are able to see how far along the turtle is in the nesting process. If the hole is fairly deep, there is a good possibility the turtle will lay her eggs in it. When the turtle sticks her neck way out then pulls it all the way back into her shell, you know the laying process is about to begin. As her head goes in, an egg comes out!

  Approximately ten to 14 eggs later, she begins to bury the nest and conceal it. Concealing is a lengthy process in which the turtle moves rocks and dirt around to make it look as though the nest area never existed. It can take hours for a Blanding’s turtle to finish concealing. By the time it’s done, you would never be able to find the nest unless you had the smelling ability of a raccoon. The amazing part is that the turtle conceals the nest without ever looking at it! She uses her back feet to dig the hole and cover up the nest, and then just walks away back to the water.

  Although Blanding’s turtles are the main focus of the nest protection program, occasionally we encounter a snapping turtle nest. Since these turtles are also a species at risk in Nova Scotia, we try to protect them as well. I’ll often see one along the roadway or in the middle of the road, in which case I stop my car to carry it across. It’s important to always move turtles across the road in the direction they were going and not move them somewhere far away. They know where they’re heading!

  Snappers are one of my favourite turtles, mostly because they look like little dinosaurs that survived extinction. I remember one day, a couple of volunteers and I stood by a snapper on the side of the road while she laid 41 eggs! When she was done, we put a nest cage over it to keep the eggs safe from predators.

  In fall, all the nests that were protected in spring are monitored for hatchlings that have crawled out of the nest. They begin hatching in mid-September into early October, depending on the weather conditions over the summer. If it is a hotter summer and the eggs get a chance to incubate better, hatchlings may start arriving as early as the end of August.

  Anyone who has ever seen a baby turtle will understand why this is a very cool thing to be a part of. It’s always exciting when you get to look into the nest cage and see a hatchling that you helped give a chance at survival! It makes all the nights of fighting off blackflies and staying up until 1 a.m. worth it.

  Before we let the hatchlings out of the nests, we take their measurements and give them an ID code. Sometimes, though, the hatchlings find a gap through the nest cages and escape before we can tag them. The hatchlings are released just outside the nest cage and they go wherever they need to. Not all hatchlings head straight to water; many of them go up into the woods or into a nearby bog. We try not to interfere with their natural instincts.

  I’m proud to be a part of the Blanding’s turtle nest protection program in Nova Scotia, and to have had the opportunity to meet the amazing volunteers who contribute hours of their time to helping turtles. In a world where many animals need our help more than ever, we could use more people like them!

  —by Wesley Pitts, Hantsport, Nova Scotia

  Volunteer Veterinary Team

  Helping animals, their people and the community

  As I looked across the large gymnasium where we had set up our temporary, MASH-style animal health care clinic in Burns Lake, British Columbia, I saw the lineup of people with their pets constantly increasing. We were in for a busy day.

  I was lucky enough to be part of the Canadian Animal Assistance Team (CAAT), a volunteer veterinary team that travels to communities to provide veterinary services for low-income families. I was well aware of the fact that animal overpopulation and disease issues are common concerns where veterinary care is not routinely available, which has a devastating effect on animal welfare. I was there to be part of the solution.

  As I looked at the line of people and pets, I noticed an older lady with her tiny white dog in her arms. She held him close and was patiently waiting her turn. When I spoke to her, she told me his name was Peanut and he was there for his vaccination. I examined him and discovered he had a condition where one of his testicles had not descended (cryptorchidism). I explained to her that there are definite health risks with this condition and they can be quite serious. She was nervous about the surgery, but after reassuring her we would do all we could to ensure his safety, she looked at me with trusting eyes and carefully handed him over. I took him into my arms with great care and looked into her eyes to let her know I understood how important he was to her.

  After a successful surgery, he was moved into our recovery area. I called his owner over and set up a chair for her to be able to sit with him. She was so relieved and delighted to have her little friend back in her arms. She snuggled him into a blanket to keep him warm and talked to him. She and her whole family stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon until he was ready to go home.

  The next day, as we prepared for another long day of seeing medical and surgical patients, I saw the same woman patiently standing in line again, but without Peanut. I immediately went over to ask if he was all right. Her face opened up into a big smile. She said he was doing well and she was extremely happy she had brought him to us. She knew he was going to be healthier because of the care he had received. She told me she was waiting in line to be able to properly thank us.

  The night before, once they had returned home, her daughter had explained to her that the entire team of people from CAAT were volunteering their time, had paid their own way to the community and did fundraising to be able to provide the services. She and her family sat around the dinner table and decided they would all contribute what they could. She had come to bring a donation to our organization. I was speechless.

  Watching that family leave, so happy because we were able to provide what was needed for their little dog
, I couldn’t help but smile. I became involved in this volunteer organization to contribute to the welfare of animals. Moments like that, however, prove to me that helping the animals, helping the people and helping the community as a whole are all undeniably intertwined.

  On our last day, as we packed up our hospital supplies and equipment and left the gymnasium, it looked like we had never been there. However, I knew that out in the village it would be evident for a long time. The impoundment rate at the local pound has decreased by 75 percent and the local rescue group’s intake has decreased by 50 percent since we started our annual clinics in Burns Lake. The local animal welfare groups also continue working to maintain what we started, using the teaching aides we provide during the educational programs we offer while the clinic is open.

  The majority of our work is in British Columbia’s First Nations communities, though we’ve been to communities in the Northwest Territories, Nunavut and the Yukon, as well as in other countries. CAAT was first founded in 2005 as a disaster-relief team that went to help the animals displaced by Hurricane Katrina in Louisiana.

  I was sad to leave the wonderful community of Burns Lake, but there are countless others in need. I have no doubt that, in every place, I will meet people just like Peanut’s owner, who love their pets, want to help their pets and just need the opportunity to be able to do so.

  —by Chris Robinson, Cambridge, Ontario

  Sewing With Pride North of 60

  A community program has participants “dreaming big dreams”

  You can compare the wildflowers of the Canadian Arctic in spring and summer to the ladies and youth of the sewing program in Gamètì, Northwest Territories. To give you some perspective, Gamètì is accessible only by small aircraft most of the year. In winter, the ice road enables people to drive out for about six weeks a year, heading about five hours south to Yellowknife. At 64 degrees north, Gamètì is a Tlicho (pronounced Klee-cho) Dene community with a population of about 275.

  In 2015, I joined my husband, Mike Westley, here. He is the community adult educator, and he wanted to share my love of sewing and quilting with the community. Thanks to funding from Dominion Diamond Corporation; Municipal and Community Affairs; Education, Culture and Employment (ECE); and support from the community senior administrative officer, Judal Dominicata, and Chief David Wedawin and his council, I was able to buy fabric and sewing machines to get started.

  Before I knew it, I had a full house plus a waiting list! Participants who knew how to sew already mostly used hand-cranked sewing machines and other retro equipment. I couldn’t wait for all the ladies to use modern sewing machines! Before long, there was a magnificent bloom of pillowcases, bags, wall hangings, table runners and other attractive projects being produced. Sewing gifts for the elders is part of the program, too, and we had a wonderful time delivering them.

  With generous support from our backers, we were able to expand the program. Now, we not only have classes for more ladies (ages 24 to 72) but also for school youth age ten and up as well. In all, roughly 15 percent of the community is now sewing!

  This year, the ladies took on the monumental task of making their very own bed quilts—queen and king-sized! With patterns chosen and fabric selected, the sewing started in earnest with classes on days, evenings and weekends. Once the quilt tops were completed, and with the help of Air Tindi (our local airline), they were flown to Yellowknife. There, the wonderful staff at North of 60 Quilting Services were able to complete the quilts on a long-arm quilt machine, and then the quilts were flown back again. The end result was a beautiful garden of quilts in an array of colours, just like the Arctic landscape. We held an open house so the ladies could share their work with the community.

  We even have a message board set up in the classroom, so participants can express how they feel. One of my favourite comments is, “I’m dreaming big dreams for my sewing.” What is truly inspiring to me is the self-confidence and raised self-esteem that comes from learning something new.

  So, every winter, like the wildflowers under the snow, beneath the majesty and splendour of the Arctic aurora, on a cold winter’s night and with the stars twinkling way up high, we’ll all be snug and cozy under our quilts made with dedication and love.

  —by Lynn Turcotte, Gamètì, Northwest Territories

  Paddling With Purpose

  More than 1,000 kilometres travelled in memory of friends lost to cancer

  It happened almost a decade ago, but I still remember the great feeling of excitement as my friend Tom Wilson and I loaded our kayaks onto the freight train at Sudbury Junction station. We were heading out on a paddle to raise cancer awareness in memory of my good friend Max Welton and Tom’s friend Renee Kitely, who succumbed to the disease at the young age of 18.

  Tom and I would paddle 1,030 kilometres, starting from the Jackfish River north of Lake Nipigon and across the lake to the Nipigon River. This is where I received most of my blisters. We would then shoreline Lake Superior down to Batchawana Bay.

  The train ride was more than 13 hours, plus we spent two hours getting our gear to the river, where we were greeted by a bald eagle and a flock of white pelicans.

  As we paddled Lake Nipigon, I could not help but think how my friend Max would have appreciated the sheer beauty of the eastern shore of the Nipigon River. Max was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at 47 years old and passed away only four months later. He was a great friend.

  We had three weeks to complete our route, so we paddled anywhere from eight to 161/2 hours a day. We had four windbound days and many broken-up days of paddling. Once on the Nipigon River, we had three hydroelectric dams to portage, the longest portage being four kilometres.

  This wasn’t a sightseeing trip, but we did take in as much scenery as possible while concentrating on the waves and weather changes that could come upon us quite suddenly.

  You quickly develop respect for a large body of water such as Lake Superior. You do not conquer her; she lets you ride her waves and tells you when it’s time to get off.

  We passed many picturesque locales, such as Rossport and Terrace Bay. After stopping for supplies in Marathon, we continued on to Pic River, where we were treated to a beautiful sunset as we pitched our tents for the night.

  I wish I could have shared this experience with so many people. It was humbling to say the least, riding in six-foot to eight-foot waves and counting seven strokes to a wake at times. We spent almost three full weeks getting to Batchawana Bay due to the strong headwinds and were pleased to realize we had met our goal in only 19 days.

  It’s hard to describe such a trip in such a beautiful part of Canada, other than to say it was awesome beyond belief. Our story was printed in the local newspaper to encourage people to donate to the Canadian Cancer Society. This trip was not only dedicated to my good friend Max and Tom’s friend Renee but to all cancer victims and survivors everywhere. This was for all of you.

  —by Scott Prevost, Elliot Lake, Ontario

  From Milk Bags to Bed Mats

  Thanks to a dedicated group of volunteers, orphans in Haiti are sleeping a bit easier

  Every Tuesday morning for two hours, more than a dozen people from Essex County meet in the basement of St. Andrews Anglican Church in Harrow, Ontario, to turn plastic milk bags into sleeping mats for Haiti, a country devastated by earthquakes and hurricanes. Plastic bags are excellent for making mats and other useful items: The plastic doesn’t rot; it’s easy to wash; it breathes; and insects can’t breed in it.

  After we flatten the milk bags, we staple 15 of them together at the bottom. My husband, Prosper, puts two piles in a hinged wooden frame and uses an X-acto knife to cut the bags, following the slits in the frame, resulting in inch-wide plastic strips. We sort the loops by colour for fun and to make each mat individual. We join the loops and roll them into a ball. Volunteers then crochet the strips into school bags, pillow covers, large mats for sleeping on, or smaller ones to sit on. Many of us do some of this work at home. If anyone
donates money, we buy school supplies.

  Our project started in May 2011 when Kathy Harnadek read an article about people making similar mats. She invited my six-year-old granddaughter Chianna and me to go with her to Essex, where we watched people cutting bags, joining loops and crocheting or weaving mats.

  Next, we began collecting milk bags. At first, we took them to Essex for cutting and came home with the loops. When a group in Kingsville stopped making mats, they lent us their cutting frame and we began to cut the bags ourselves. Since then, we have acquired four more frames, which we use and also lend to other groups.

  We collect the milk bags from schools, restaurants, churches, seniors’ residences and grocery stores, as well as businesses in Harrow and neighbouring towns. We have also received thousands of milk bags that have never been used. These bags are harder to cut, but the loops are smoother and easier to crochet.

  Someone said that it takes 600 bags to make a mat, but I’ve read different totals. Each bag has some loss at the top and bottom, and occasionally bags get torn. We use the waste to finish the pillows. Full Circle, our local thrift store, gives us anything they can’t sell and which they think the Haitians can use. Those items and our finished products are sent to Ground Effects in Windsor, where the owner, Jim Scott, takes everything to Haiti and personally distributes them to a selection of orphanages there.

  When we first started, Jim spoke at our church and showed slides of his work in Haiti. He left, taking what we had collected so far. He also went away with six boxes of used French books, donated by the Essex County Library, as the people of Haiti speak either French or Creole.

  We used to take everything to Ground Effects ourselves, but now we gather so much so fast that Jim has to send a truck. So far, we have sent 379 sleeping mats, 118 small mats, 108 school bags and 60 pillows. We have also donated school supplies, clothing, shoes, bed linens, toys and kitchen supplies.