Bog Ditching Spring 2003

Ditching a Spring Bog

May/June 2003

This is a small basin that catches the spring run-off from about 30 acres of slopes and hills.

This image is just post snow in early May and as full as it gets. Real picturesque, and tranquil.

The issue here is that for the last 3 years with the ever longer hotter summers the swamp dries-up completely by late July.

After checking with the Ministry of Natural Resources, the primary concern when working or altering bodies of water is the duration that it holds water or supports a flow of.

Any stream, pond or bog that holds water more than 9 months of a calender year falls into a more stringent set of rules.

In our case 4 to 6 months is the maximum. In an effort to make this a more pleasing piece of property, is to excavate the bog at least 6 to 8 feet deeper.

To accelerate the drainage I started a ditch that follows the natural drainage creek that flows for the month of April.

The serpentine path has evolved due to natural objects like buried bolders or tree root systems.

The creek started as a late Sunday afternoon project.

Eventually it had me consumed, every evening after diner I'd be clearing with a chainsaw, digging the ditch further and further through the thick bush.

I never realized how far the bog was from the road's ditch, after a week it came to be as 425ft. This has been measured off against the steel surveyor's peg at the road.

Here is one of my favorite people... Who else would follow you into a dirty mosquito infested bog in silk pajamas and sandals?

As I was slogging it out digging the ditch deeper and wider, wrestling with roots and stones that hide like icebergs poking a tip through the surface, Stephanie was content to weave supple branches into a unique piece of art.

In actual fact Stephanie was hanging around to be sure that she had a chance to drive the Bush-Buggy.

I think that Steph and her twin sister Brittany enjoy driving the Truck as much as me.

Today's lesson, was to perfect shifting gears smoothly, and bulling through mud holes.

To Stephanie's credit, she never faltered and kept the gas nailled as the truck would throw slabs of muck off all four wheels... Now if only I could foster a love of hunting in these girls I'd feel like my job as a father was complete.

This is why I left Toronto 15 years ago, to play in the mud and get some exercise.

There must be a beaver gene in us that spans from childhood well through middle age... In all likelihood it extends on to the senior years, as my father and I will talk often of the glorious days that would be ours if we only had a backhoe attachment for our tractors.

Curiously both my wife and my mother shut-down any such discussions before either of us can get too serious.

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