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magazine / ja01
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July/August 2001 issue |
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EDITOR'S NOTEBOOK
Killer conversations, liberating a river
John Ford presses the play button on his tape recorder, you hear clicks
and high-pitched whistles, and you wonder about his sanity when
he assures you that he is able to discern communication in the cacophony.
In the end, we have to take his word for it. He has been researching
the vocal traditions of killer whales for the past 24 years and
has become a world authority on pod dialects.
Ford is head of marine-mammal research at the Vancouver Aquarium
and spends his summers with colleague Graeme Ellis cruising the
coastline of British Columbia, recording the ocean "orcastras." No,
Ford still can't tell you what the whales are saying, whether
they are complaining about boat traffic or junior's table
manners. But he has learned a great deal about the society of the
whales and the structure of their communities.
Bruce Obee, a Sidney, B.C.-based natural-history writer who has
been reporting on Ford and Ellis's research since the mid-1970s
and wrote our cover story, says being out on the water with the
two scientists is a delight.
"They still get excited about the work. They spotted a whale
they hadn't seen in 20 years, and for them, it was like seeing
an old friend."
The Saint-Maurice River was still awash in logs when I visited
it in the mid-1980s. The shot above was taken by Dave Sidaway, a
colleague at the Montréal Gazette, during a journey we made
to the upper reaches of the river. (Don't be misled by the
lens on my lap. I'm no photographer. Sidaway simply thought
he could trust me to hold it while he balanced himself for the shot.)
Forest companies used the river as a private highway for more than
150 years, and their activities effectively excluded everyone else
from the waterway. I recall meeting a Coast Guard official who told
me he once lost three propellers in a single day from deadheads,
partially submerged logs. Added to the log drive, which finally
ended in 1995, was the industrial waste, flushed into the river
by chemical companies, factories and mills. Montréal writer
Benoit Aubin and photographer Pierre St. Jacques travelled the length
of la Mauricie for our story. The end of the log drive, the closure
of many of the pulp mills and the decline of industry throughout
the area have devastated the regional economy. But the much-abused
river, many believe, may once again serve as a lifeline for all
the communities strung along its verdant, largely unspoiled banks.
During his travels, Aubin discovered that the river and its recovery
have become a new source of hope for people who suffered through
the collapse of area industries that once provided many of them
with secure, high-paying unionized jobs.
For the past decade,
Calgary photographer George Webber has been visiting the Blood Indian
Reserve, making friends and taking pictures that reflect the character
of the place and its people.
"It isn't far from my home in Calgary," Webber says, "but
there is a great cultural and spiritual chasm between here and there."
His black-and-white photos are so powerful, so evocative, that they
transfix viewers. Turn to the opening image in his photo essay,
the first he has contributed to Canadian Geographic. That photo
of a knot of people carrying a cross beneath threatening skies is
unforgettable. The accompanying images are stark and spare and offer
a rare glimpse of life on Canada's largest reserve.
Contributing editor Dane
Lanken landed in a patch of poison ivy last summer and, to take
his mind off the unbearable itching, read all he could find about
the insidious little plant. In his story, he shares his suffering
as well as his learning: what causes the itch, what to do if you
are afflicted and how to rid your property of the plant. Recount
your experiences and pass on tips for easing the misery of poison
ivy.
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