Showing posts with label chocolate lily. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chocolate lily. Show all posts

Saturday, May 21, 2022

In their own good time

This is a great time of year to hit the old, familiar trails. They're never the same, one week to the next, with plants and mushrooms, birds and animals each showing up according to their own personal schedules. 

These are some of this week's new spring flowers along the Elk Falls trail:

Oregon grape, Berberis nervosa.

Serviceberry, aka Saskatoon, Amelanchier alnifolia.

The flowers of serviceberry.

Solomon's seal, just starting to flower. Maianthemum racemosum.

Vanilla leaf, Achlys triphyllla. Just the leaves; only a few were starting to flower.

One of the few vanilla leafs sending up its single flower stalk.

And this was something I hadn't seen on the island before: chocolate lilies. Unfortunately, too far away for a good look. Maybe if I lay down on the steps and stuck my head and camera through the rails? Another attempt is in order.

Chocolate lilies, Fritillaria lanceolata.Only one is fully open.

Also in flower, not photographed: Pacific dogwood, red elderberry, miner's lettuce, more yellow violets, and blue-eyed Mary. There were still a few pink fawn lilies, and a couple of late trilliums.

They're promising us three more clear days before the rain sets in again. Another quick visit is in order.

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Ahora es una buena temporada del año para volver a los sitios acostumbrados, familiares. Cambian de una visita a la próxima; nunca se presentan igual, ya que se están abriendo o regresando las flores y los hongos, los pájaros y los animales, cada uno según su horario individual.

Estas son las flores que se presentaron esta semana, la tercera de mayo:

  1. Las flores amarillas de mahonia (uva de Oregon), Beriberis nervosa.
  2. El arbusto de Saskatoon, Amelanchier alnifolia.
  3. Y las flores del mismo.
  4. Sello de Salomón falso, Maianthemum racemosum, apenas empezando a abrir sus flores.
  5. Hoja de vainilla, Achlys triphylla. Estas son solamente hojas; solo en algunas plantas aparecían las nuevas flores, todavía sin abrir por completo.
  6. Uno de los pocos tallos con botones apenas abriéndose.
  7. El lirio de chocolate, Fritillaria lanceolata. Uno está abierto.
Esta es la primera vez que veo estos lirios de chocolate aquí en la isla. Malafortunadamente, estaban demasiado lejos para sacar una buena foto. ¿Tal vez si me acuesto en la plataforma, y saco la cabeza y la cámara por entre las tablas de la cerca? Hay que probar.

Tambien en pleno flor, aunque no les saqué fotos: el cornejo del Pacífico, el saúco rojo, lechuga del minero, más violetas amarillas, y María de los ojos azules. Todavía hay unos pocos lirios de cervato, y un par de trilios, ya casi pasados.

Nos prometen otros tres dias antes de que empiecen otra vez las lluvias. Habrá que hacer otra visita.







Saturday, May 26, 2007

Disappearing Act: Finn Slough

Wetlands. Endangered species. Sinking islands. Developers and fishermen. Language barriers. Common law and lawyers with writs. Bureaucracies, old and new. And a long struggle and desperate hope; the tale of Finn Slough has it all.



The story starts 120 years ago, in the 1890s, when a group of Finnish fisherfolk pooled their savings to buy land on the south shore of Lulu Island, near where Woodward slough meets the sea.


Photo from David Dorrington.

Now, Lulu Island is flat terrain, at sea level and prone to flooding; early settlers built dykes by hand to protect their fields from the salt water. The dykes went up both sides of the slough, which wasn't dammed; a convenient setup for fishermen, who could bring boats right up to their doors.

They set about carving homesteads out of the forest, and began to build fish boats. One of the men towed two float houses up the slough for his family; others built from scratch, on pilings. And of course they built a sauna for the community.

At high tides, the sea invaded. Chickens had to roost at times on the roof of the henhouses. Plank walkways were built above the tide level, and drawbridges with removable boards to permit boats to go on past and into harbour.

Life was good there; salmon were plentiful and the water calm. The community thrived.

In 1900, a local farmer had a dam built at the foot of #5 Road, and floodgates set in the entrance to Woodward Slough. It is doubtful whether the Finnish-speaking residents had any advance notice of this, since they didn't read the English newspaper, where it was publicized. At any rate, they could no longer bring their boats up the slough, and instead found a handy harbour between Whitworth Island (just a gravel bar, really) and the mainland. They built a walkway over to the island for access.

New immigrants arrived. Many could not afford land, and lived in float houses or on their boats. A school was started. Gasoline motors revolutionized the work; the first powered gill net drum was invented and built here. #4 Road was extended to the dykes; now the fishermen could drive to Steveston or Vancouver.

Now, here arises a problem. Whitworth Island, or Gilmore Island as it is also called, was never purchased by the residents; it was just a spit of land in the river where they could pull up their floating houses and docks. In fact, it moved around as the river ate at it, so that the surveyed area of the island no longer exists; it is underwater.

In 1989, a developer managed to obtain a deed for the property. Four years later, the residents found notices pinned to their doors: "... all individuals without written consent (must) leave the Island." This was the first they knew of a proposal to build a condominium and marina complex on Finn Slough.

They fought back, of course. They managed to get jurisdiction over the slough transferred to the Fraser River Harbour Commission and to have the site inspected and designated as an environmentally sensitive area. They formed the Finn Slough Heritage and Wetlands Society, and have been enlisting support of artists, environmentalists, historians and the general public.

The water of Finn Slough is brackish; all of the island, except for about half an acre, is underwater at high tide. So it is home to salt-tolerant plants, several of which are rare or uncommon. One of these is the chocolate lily, Fritillaria camschatencis, which I included in yesterday's post, and which grows now in very few places in the Fraser delta.

Yesterday, as we walked, we were charmed by the singing of birds, a choir of different voices, each with his own tune, yet all harmonizing. I read that we could find the black-headed grosbeak there, and the yellow warbler. I don't think I have ever seen the first.

However, the deed still rests in the hands of the developers. There was an attempt made to invoke common law, which gives continuous residents for more than several decades a deed to the land they occupy, but so far, no luck.



Next generation of fisherfolk, learning the trade.

Today, I found the latest proposal by the developers: an "Executive Summary" outlining 4 possible projects.
* Raise Gilmour Island and put in estate lots similar to the lots developed at Deering Island. The Deering Island lots sold for a minimum of $500,000 during the last real estate recession Vancouver had in 1993.

* Raise Gilmour Island and build a higher density complex. The City of Richmond feels that on this site it is realistic to build townhouses.

* Raise Gilmour Island and develop a residential plus marina and yacht club facility.

* Raise Gilmour Island and build a private residence with water access.
Note that all these proposals start with raising "Gilmour" Island. Killing the plants, burying them under tons of cement.

No mention is made of the community presently living on the Slough; even the name has been somehow "forgotten" and the ancient name of Tiffin Slough is used instead. The Island is called by a misspelling of its alternate name, Gilmore; no doubt to circumvent researchers into the actual status of the land. A photo taken from high above gives no hint of the heritage buildings and structures, nor of the unique characteristics of this wetland.

I would laugh, if it didn't make me so angry: they write,
"The City of Richmond feels that on this site it is realistic to build townhouses."
Realistic, on a site that shifts around with the tide, that is mostly in, not beside, the river? In an area that already needs to be protected by dykes, and at a time when weather patterns may be changing?

But they won't care, I'm sure, once they've built and sold the property; it will be the new owners who are the losers.

Financially, that is. The real losers will be the residents; the birds, the lilies and other plants, the fish and the fishers. And with them, all the rest of us.
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Finn Slough Heritage & Wetland Society

Natural History of Finn Slough


Islands in the Stream

Life on the Fraser

Friday, May 25, 2007

Finn Slough: First, the Flowers

... and I do love alliteration!

A fascinating find; a chocolate lily. We finally made it to Finn Slough yesterday, and it was all that I hoped, and more; no wonder they make it the topic of an annual photo and artists' competition!

Painting the slough, the first necessity would be to lay in a good store of green. Reeds and grasses cover every flat spot; along the slopes, shrubs tower overhead.

Here's Laurie, down one of the walkways. At the entrance to this walk, among the rampant grasses, salmonberry bushes and roses, I discovered these.Chocolate lilies! Fritillaria. I had never seen them before; that's a lifer, as birders say.
These used to be eaten by the BC natives, who dug up the bulbous roots and boiled or dried them. Now, of course, we wouldn't dare; they are "shy-flowering", meaning that they don't flower for the first 3 or 4 years, and the land available to them is always at risk of being paved over. This could happen in Finn Slough; the residents are fighting a desperate battle to keep the developers out. (More on this later.)

Black twinberry, Lonicera involucrata: the yellow flowers have gone and the berries haven't shown up yet, but the bracts look like flowers themselves.
And red osier dogwood, Cornus sericea. Not a dogwood, though. I read that the name comes from "dague" or "dagger", because the wood supposedly makes good skewers. I am not exactly convinced.
Comfrey. Probably a purposeful import. Often used as a home remedy for what-ails-you.
Skunk cabbage. No longer in flower, but I couldn't resist photographing it from the vantage point of an elevated walkway. It's not often I get anything but a side view.
The grey around the base shows the high-water level for the slough.

Next: history and old boats. And older buildings.
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