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magazine / jf97
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January/February 1997 issue |
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Answers to readers' perplexing questions
Places of the dead
When I drive along the Trans-Canada Highway from Canmore
to Calgary, I pass a town called Dead Man's Flats. Can you tell me the origins
of this name?
- John Lacy, Canmore, Alta.
LOOKING OVER the map of Canada, you would think there was little in the country’s past other than death and dying. There are more than 125 locations in Canada
with "dead man" in their names, from Deadmans Bight, Nfld., to Deadman
Pass, B.C. (plus various dead boys, dead dogs, dead horses, dead ducks, dead
fish and dead falls). Nine provinces and two territories are represented with
dead man place names; only P.E.I. seems to have escaped the grim reaper. Quebec
is in there with Anse des Morts, Baie des Morts, Île aux Morts, and more.
It seems likely that most gained their macabre names simply because bodies
were found there. It isn’t difficult to imagine the kind of scene that
might have inspired Deadmans Beach, N.S., Deadmans Rapids, Ont., or Deadsteer
Lake, Sask.
Alberta has seven dead man locations: a pass, a gulch, two lakes and one
creek, plus the locality of Dead Man’s Flats (which our Canmore reader
drives by) and the adjacent flat, Dead Man Flat. According to Place Names
of Alberta, the recently completed four-volume compendium of Alberta’s
officially named peaks, parks, places and waterways, there are not one but
two possible explanations for the naming of Dead Man’s Flats. One is
that two brothers, John and François Marrett, operated a dairy on the flat
until François borrowed a two-edged axe from a neighbour and killed his brother,
an act that landed him a life-long visit to the Ponoka Institute for the insane.
The other story is that, sometime around 1900, two or three Indians were trapping
beaver in the area, presumably illegally, when a warden approached. Knowing
they had no time to escape, they smeared themselves with beaver blood and
played dead until the warden ran for help. Then they got up, took their beaver
pelts, and went home.
Armed and identical
I know that all snowflakes are different. But what is just as astounding
is the similarity among all six arms of each flake. As a snowflake grows, how
does one arm know the pattern of the others?
J. S. Ford, Burlington, Ont.
THE READER IS RIGHT: the pattern of the snowflake is predetermined at the
centre and from the start. A snowflake is a crystalline structure. So a
particle — in the case of a snowflake, a molecule of frozen water vapour
— can fit into an existing particle only in a certain way. And since the
original central ice crystal — the heart of a snowflake — has six identical
sides, each arm grows identically. (However, while all snowflakes have a
hexagonal crystal structure, not all have arms — some are flat plates,
some are long and needle-like and others much more complex. Still, the most
common form of snowflake has arms.)
Specific conditions of temperature, humidity and pressure determine the
precise shape of the original ice crystal, and thereafter the nature of crystals
ensures that all six sides will be the same. As snowflakes fall flat, and
not one edge first, all arms catch new water vapour equally. What makes the
original ice crystals (and thus the snowflakes) so inevitably six-sided is
trickier. Something in the molecular structure of water, or perhaps the crystallographic
form of ice, seems the likeliest answer. "Ice crystals just happen to
be six-sided," says University of Toronto physics professor Han-Ru Cho.
Another reader (and former meteorologist), Norman Thyer of Nelson, B.C., notes
that the symmetry and individuality of snowflakes have counterparts in living
creatures. "The left side of my body is identical to the right side," he
writes, "or rather the mirror image of it, yet my body is different from
anyone else’s." Just as an individual’s genetic code ordains
his or her appearance, so a central ice crystal’s six similar sides
determine a snowflake’s six-way similarity.
Canadian cacti
As a Canadian of Mexican origin, I keep several cacti at home as a reminder
of my roots. Are there cacti native to Canada hardy enough to withstand our
winters?
Jose Garcia-Lozano, Ottawa
ARCHIBALD MENZIES, the botanist who sailed with George Vancouver along what
is now the west coast of Canada, put ashore on the Gulf Islands in 1792
and recorded in his journal being "not a little surprizd to meet with
the Cactus Opuntia thus far to the Northward." A good many other people
have been no less "surprizd" to find cacti in Canada in the 200
years since. Yet at least four species of these plants so indelibly associated
with deserts do grow in Canada, thriving in arid zones from British Columbia
to Ontario and somehow surviving our half-years of harsh winter. There are
perhaps 2,000 species of cactus, all native to the Americas from little "buttons," such
as peyote, to tree-like giants 20 metres tall. Cacti are found from Peace
River to the tip of South America, though it is the dry lands of Mexico
where the greatest number and variety occur. They are well adapted to life
in hot, dry regions, with shallow but wide-spreading root systems to sop
up quick desert showers, succulent spongy tissue in their fattened stems
to store water, and stiff, sharp-pointed spines to keep thirsty creatures
at bay. Their flowers are often large and showy.
Three species of prickly pear (above), named for their edible but barbed
fruit, occur in Canada. These are of the genus Opuntia (as the botanist
Menzies noted), the largest genus of the cactus family. Generally, the Canadian
species have flattened, segmented stems, and grow in sprawling clumps. One
or possibly two species of "pincushion" cacti — the genus Coryphantha (formerly Mammillaria)
— grow in Canada, too. They are small, ball-shaped, generally found in clusters,
and covered with evenly spaced bumps called tubercles from which short, sharp
spines project.
As to why these usually heat-loving plants can survive the cold Canadian
winter, the key is dehydration. They dry out in fall, the remaining sap seemingly
concentrating to something resembling antifreeze. In the case of Opuntia,
the plants themselves often lie down flat on the ground allowing a blanket
of snow to protect them from hard winds and sharp temperature changes. Come
spring, the cacti swell again with the early rains and pero bueno! life
goes on.
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