A Winter Walk at Buttertubs Marsh
Dualities, Continuities, Birds, and Belonging
No matter the season or weather, Buttertubs Marsh has its own unique beauty. I almost prefer it in its winter nakedness. It becomes an artwork of seeming contradictions, never letting the eye or mind rest on any one shape or form.
(Flock of Canada Geese)
Some days, half the sky is darkly clouded while the other half hums sunshine - a blue canvas flecked with white as though a toothbrush were dipped in paint and then a thumb run along the bristles, spraying clouds here and there. Below, the smooth water likewise transitions from gray to blue. Perfectly vitreous, it is marked here and there by the arches and ripples of gliding glossy-backed ducks. Its edges are accented by jutting reeds, sharp-edged grasses, and tattered fluffy cattails. A line of trees creates a surreal backdrop to the liquid stage. They remind me of Dahli’s artwork. Some of the dark, bare trunks with twisting branches are dead; others with more uniform, jutting branches are only dormant, their stark exteriors masking the pulse of life stored within.
Standing on the low wooden viewing platform, I raise my binocular to bird watch. Instead of clarity I am met by a foggy veil. Cursing softly to myself, I wipe my condensed breath from the lenses with my fleece mitten. Then I watch in detail, a voyeur of the lives of the marsh's inhabitants. The Hooded Merganser lowers his black and white Roman helmet, diving deep. A trail of bubbles marks his underwater passage. A female Bufflehead coasts alone. Suddenly she takes flight, her wings flashing white flags. A trio of grebes surface where she had just been. I imagine them chuckling at the fright they caused their marsh mate. Drab and undistinguished in their winter dress, the grebes munch on slimy snacks harvested from below. And then there are the coots. They always give me pause, making me think of peculiar, swimming, butterball chickens.
Shivering in the cold air, I must be on the move again. My walk reveals moss softening rough angular chunks of concrete, which I believe are remnants from the base of a long gone structure. Round red hawthorn berries and rose hips adorn bare thorny branches. The once secret locations of summer’s birds’ nests are revealed, as the leaves have left their roost and returned to the earth.
Calls from blackbirds split the stillness. Even they refuse to be defined singularly. Two simultaneous notes, one high, one low, stretch my soul up and down. My chest expands with a powerful intake of air. I close my eyes as I am breathed deep by the marsh, again and again. The cold air mixes with the blackbirds’ songs to light a fire in my chest, a fierce ice flame, flickering red and blue. My body throbs with the sacred Life force. Time dissolve. Boundaries fall. Energies merge. I am a precious link of the marsh’s Being, united with all that surrounds me, all that will be, and all that ever was. A divine peace nestles within me. As I open my eyes, I slip back into the illusion of my separateness. Yet I am radiant with the Truth that has touched me, the truth of my belonging.
This marsh, this world, is a paradox of change and continuity. Within each slumbering tree is spring’s richness. Each berry holds a promise of new life stored in every seed. Last year’s foliage will nourish the coming spring’s growth. Death is but a prelude to birth. For within every atom, every cell, and every breath burns Life’s eternal energy.
“A Winter Walk at Buttertubs” by Lindsay Hartley was original published in Nanaimo’s “Synergy: The Magazine for Mind, Body, and Spirit” - Vol 2 Issue 6, Jan/Feb 2006, pg 15. Publisher and Editor: Nicole Shaw. Republished here with some minor edits. All photos taken at Buttertubs Marsh, Nanaimo, BC from 2020 to 2023 by Lindsay Hartley. All Rights Reserved.
My official monthly newsletter, released on the first of each month, begins January 2024. I just didn’t want to wait until then to share something with you, so I hope you enjoyed the stroll at Buttertubs with me. In January, we’ll take a look at “Steller’s Jays, Stellar Stasher” and “Miniature Horse, Major Personality.” In February, I’ll share more about Red-Winged Blackbirds, and you’ll meet a four-legged you-tube star. I hope you will join me, and subscribe if you haven’t already.
As we begin December, I wish you a holiday season full of nature’s beauty and wisdom. May you and all those you love be safe, well, and feel the warm embrace of your flock - whatever that may look like for you.
Blessings to you,
Lindsay
Thank you so much for taking me on this winter walk with you. It was exhilarating and magical. I discovered you through Allegra Chapman ❤️
What a gorgeous post and lovely place to embrace winter (not my favourite season!)
(Also - huge thank you for the Kofi via Anne, I so appreciate it!)