Crow Time

13 July 2024 – Oh, there’s Standard Time & Daylight Saving Time, and there’s Pacific Time & Mountain Time & Central Time & Eastern Time & Atlantic Time (& Newfoundland Time). Plus the zones and adjustments that grid the rest of the world. All of them coded to numbers.

Clock Time.

Then there’s Crow Time.

No numbers, just quality of light. The shifting intensity of light that signals, each dawn, the right moment to leave the roost and, each dusk, the right moment to return. That timing also measures the changing length of day.

Vancouver crows (corvus caurinus) are ours by day only. Each night they roost in neighbouring Burnaby, and my building is beside a major flight path between the two locations. While (I must confess) I’ve never witnessed the morning influx, I have often watched the evening exodus spell-bound.

Sometimes a flurry passes close to my balcony…

but, more typically, air currents stream the birds a bit farther north, speckles against a more distant sky.

In between waves, it is an empty sky.

But only until the inevitable straggler comes into view.

Flapping his wings like crazy as he tries to catch up.

In Crow Time, Vancouver dusk these days occurs about 9:30 p.m. Mid-winter, it’s more like 4:30. Allow for the seasonal time-shift — that’s still a four-hour difference.

Sigh! I can hear you muttering, “Fine, but… total length of day? Because that’s only the dusk half of the equation.” True, and since I’ve never personally witnessed Vancouver dawn, Crow Time, I have to trust boring old Clock Time calculations found on the internet.

At summer solstice, some 16 hrs:15 min. of daylight; at winter solstice, just 8 hrs:11 min.

Come mid-winter, those crows get to do some serious sleeping in!

Sun, Fog, Fog, Fog

25 January 2022 – Bouncing sunbeams Saturday morning, as we bounce off to Blackie Spit Park. It is at the tip of Crescent Beach, a sandspit that extends into Mud Bay, itself an extension of Boundary Bay in South Surrey.

Hardly a muddy bay today! Everything sparkles, from the water right before us to the snowy North Shore Mountains in the distance.

Sparkling water in the canal as well, with (I think) American Wigeon ducks paddling their way toward that red cabin beside the controls that regulate water levels.

That was Saturday.

Sunday morning, and, yes, the forecast was right. Dense fog hovers over the Lower Mainland and is expected to last for several days, with periods of “near zero” visibility.

Car headlights peer through the murk on Main Street; black crows, doing their westward morning commute, blend into the sky.

And one guy, presumably, says “Sod it!” and turns back east. Maybe home to his Burnaby roost, where he will tuck his head under his wing and sleep away the day?

I am made of sterner stuff. I’m off to Campbell Valley Regional Park in Langley — much larger than Saturday’s park, with 29 km of sprawling trails looped through the valley and around Little Campbell River.

It’s a study in up-close clarity, and misty fog beyond.

The moss pops colour — was ever green so green? — but all is steely-grey just beyond those trees.

Like Blackie Spit (which is on the Pacific Flyway), this Campbell Valley park is a haven for birdlife. I know about Wood Ducks …

but I am introduced to west-coast varieties of species I only know in their eastern versions. The Chestnut-Backed Chickadee, for example, and the Spotted Towhee. Perhaps the Fox Sparrow as well, but my companion is as scrupulous as he is knowledgeable, and cautions he is not quite sure about that one.

Don’t care. Don’t need to know all the names. It’s all splendid, just as it is.

Ultimately we’re on the Shaggy Mane Trail, shared by humans and horses. Neither of us knows anything about horses, but they are well-behaved and their riders courteous, and we are perfectly happy to step aside and admire them as they clip-clop past.

Monday: foggy.

Late Tuesday morning: still foggy.

Even deep downtown.

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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