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SaskatchewanGrasslands and the Land of Living SkiesOur first destination in Saskatchewan was Last Mountain Lake, a national wildlife area originally identified and protected as far back as 1887, making it the first federal bird sanctuary in North America! The area is renowned for its incredible value to hundreds of thousands of migratory birds traveling along the Central Flyway, as well as for its value for over 100 species of breeding birds like the white pelican and the western grebe. Chris and I were hoping to catch a view of the endangered Whooping Crane on its way from Wood Buffalo N. Pk to Texas. When I called the Canadian Wildlife service’s crane spotting hotline, I said “I’m calling about the cranes” and the operator excitedly asked “have you seen any?”. Needless to say, we were a bit too early, and no one had yet seen the cranes coming through. We did, however, visit a migratory bird monitoring station, and we took a driving tour that brought us to an area where snow geese were migrating in droves, and shorebirds were hopping about – many new species for both Chris and I! We gazed at western grebes on the long, thin, Last Mountain Lake at dusk, and fell asleep to the distinctively unmusical honking of hundreds of sandhill cranes which had already begun their migration. Our first sight of a buffalo rubbing stone was at Last Mountain Lake. These large stones, deposited by glaciers, were a welcome sight to buffalo plagued by flies and bugs. So many animals rubbed their itchy hides on this stone that all of its once-jagged edges have been smoothed, and the ground around it has been worn down. Driving from the Qu’Appelle Valley we rose and descended big rounded hills that defied conventional tales of the Saskatchewan landscape. Every fifth fence post or so had a huge hawk or falcon on it, and we wore the pages of our Sibley’s field Guide thin flipping between Swainson’s Hawks, Rough-legged Hawks, Peregrine Falcons, Northern Harriers, and Ferruginous Hawk.. After Moose Jaw, we traveled from one gravel road to a lesser gravel road, to one with about four inches of loose gravel that our tires skated through to a little cart track, further and further from civilization. Parks Canada didn’t seem to believe in signage for parks as off the beaten track as Grasslands – the first sign was about 7 km from the park entrance, the park entrance had one sign and a little info kiosk but no park maps. We soon found out that was because there aren’t any trails or roads in the park…just fields of golden waving grass under crimson sunset skies, as far as the eye can see. We stopped the car at an old corral at the end of the park entrance way, and were greeted by black-tailed prairie dogs and soon afterwards, an endless sky of sparkling stars and an intense feeling of vastness. We sparked up the stove, and that little bit of light and heat in the great sea of blackness and openness gave me a palpable feeling of relief and comfort. The coyotes yipped us to sleep that night. Having just finished reading Guy Vanderhague’s The Last Crossing where adventures in Canada’s great wild west are told, I could empathize with the feelings of fear and trepidation which accompanied travelers and caravans across the prairies. Despite the ‘badlands’ and coulees around Grasslands, the overwhelming sense that one gets is that of space and of begin exposed – of being able to see everything but of also being conspicuous among the prairie grasses. I can see why people always traveled in groups and fell asleep to a fire’s light and warmth. We explored the ‘East Block’ of Grasslands on our bikes, bumping over the mixed grass prairie, reveling in blazing star plants that dotted the ground with bright purple colour, and watching out for prickly pear and pincushion cactus with spikes that could pierce our inner tubes. The badland hills had incredibly vivid stripes of soil – reds, blacks and shades of grey and brown, and support a variety of life forms. We spotted antelope (fastest animals in N.A., they can run up to 70 km/hr!) and mule deer, gnarled rabbitbrush plants, many forms of sage and prickly pear cacti, as well as many species of forbs like wild barley. In the ‘West Block’ we drove along the Frenchman River Valley and stopped to see prairie dog towns and catch a glimpse of the endangered burrowing owl. What a strange creature – an owl that flies and lives in old prairie dog holes! Burrowing owls have really long legs and keen eyesight to help them watch over the short grass areas that they nest in and ensure their success hunting grasshoppers, mice and young prairie dogs.
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