Friday, December 18, 2009

A short drive on the Eastern Shore

Yesterday was cold and windy.  Probably minus 25 with the wind chill.  But the roads were clear and dry so I set out to re-explore the places that Amy Lynn showed me when she toured me around last week.  (Amy Lynn has a Blog called "Flandrum Hill".  I'd been following her Blog since BEFORE I came here and had been writing to her.  She very generously took me aroud to show me the things that she wishes someone had shown her back when she arrived in the area 20 years ago).

I wanted to re-find "Fisherman's      Reserve".  It's a beat up looking fishing cove where I'd seen a pack of feral cats. 

The cove ends in a very long strip of land snaking out into the ocean with a Gibralter-like mound at the end.  My hope had been to walk to the end of that strip.  Of course I would check first to see whether it was ever covered at high tide.  I needn't have worried. The dogs and I got out of the car and it was clear we wouldn't be making THAT walk.  I strolled around for 5 minutes with my camera stuffed deep into my coat pocket and only pulling it out quickly for a picture and then stuffing it back. 

BTW I have an excellent long warm coat.  I bought it at "Mark's Work Wearhouse" for mega bucks but it's been well worth it.  On  frigid day I don't even need a hat or scarf.  The hood on the coat is warm and there is a velcro neck closure.  Even the arms have extra fabric inside the cuffs to stop wind from entering.  I wasn't sure about paying close to $200 for a coat but I know now that it was an excellent move.

I hadn't seen any cats.  As I was leaving, I rolled down the window and in a high voice called "here kitty, kitty" in that sing song way and a fluffy, short cat darted out from the breakwater.  That was it.  One cat where weeks ago I'd seen seven or eight.  I had a small bag of cat food in the back of the car. I rushed out and tore open one end of the bag and stuffed it under the rocks of the breakwater so the open end faced in.  What did I see?  A plate of cat food that another soft-hearted (headed) stranger had stuffed in there too.  The cat vanished into the rocks and I got back in my car and left.

I stopped occassionaly on the drive to take pictures.

Took at picture of a barn with the Acadian Flag. 

Here's a bit of the history of the Acadians that I snipped from Wikipedia:

During the seventeenth century, about sixty French families were established in Acadia. They developed friendly relations with the aboriginal Mi'kmaq, learning their hunting and fishing techniques. The Acadians lived mainly in the coastal regions, farming land reclaimed from the sea through diking. Living on the frontier between French and British territories, the Acadians found themselves on the front lines in each conflict between the powers. Acadia was passed repeatedly from one side to the other, and the Acadians learned to survive through an attitude of studied neutrality, refusing to take up arms for either side, and thus came to be referred to as the "French neutrals."

In the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, France ceded the portion of Acadia that is now Nova Scotia (minus Cape Breton Island) to the British for the last time. In 1730, the Acadians signed an oath swearing allegiance to the British Crown, but stipulating that Acadians would not have to take up arms against the French or Indians. But, in 1754 with the outbreak of tensions with France, the British government, no longer accepting the neutrality previously granted, demanded that the Acadians take an absolute oath of allegiance to the British monarch, which would require their taking up arms. Not wanting to take up arms against family members in French territory, and believing that the oath would compromise their Roman Catholic faith, the Acadians refused. Colonel Charles Lawrence ordered the mass deportation of the Acadians. Contemporary historian John Mack Faragher has used the late 20th century term, "ethnic cleansing", to describe the British actions.

So it's an area steeped in history.  Some of it rather shameful. 

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