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Cottage Life

Wild Profile: Meet the Arctic fox

By Sophia Granchinho/Shutterstock

There is no fox better equipped to handle chilly weather than the Arctic fox—a.k.a. the white fox. Canada’s smallest canid may weigh as little as 3 lbs, but it’s hardy enough to withstand temperatures as low as -50°C. It’s literally built for the cold, with a heavy white coat in the winter, a compact body, and a bushy tail that makes up about 30 per cent of its total body length. The Arctic fox uses that tail like a shawl to wrap around itself when sleeping.

In Canada, the Arctic fox’s range stretches from the northern tip of Ellesmere Island to the southern tip of James Bay. A carnivore, it survives mostly on a diet of lemmings. Foxes with whelps to feed will hunt up to 15 times per night—usually between 4 p.m. and mid-morning the next day. In open areas of tundra, adults catch their prey by chasing and pouncing. But an Arctic fox is smart enough to know how to locate an underground lemming nest, and will dig through the snow to get at it.

What do the foxes do when there are no lemmings?

Since an Arctic fox is so dependent on its lemming food source, the species’ numbers fluctuate with the lemming population. And the lemming population is known to “crash” and then peak. In a crash year, foxes will leave their usual hunting territories and wander for hundreds of kilometres, nomad-like, searching for food. This makes them vulnerable to fatigue and extreme cold—no den to hunker down inside—not to mention, starvation. Consequently, when lemming numbers are low, so are Arctic fox numbers.

White foxes are sometimes blue

The Arctic fox only keeps its snowy-white coat for the winter (just like the snowshoe hare). By May, it begins to shed its heavy fur in place of a thinner, two-tone brown outfit. Some Arctic foxes have a blue-toned coat in the winter; they shed that for a blue-grey coat in the summer. “Blue” foxes appear in almost every Arctic fox population. In Canada, they make up about five per cent of the population; in Greenland, meanwhile, about 50 per cent of white foxes are blue foxes. So…the foxes in Greenland are blue? Huh. Ironic.

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Cottage Life

Got plastic?!? 30,000 gut enzymes want to help

Photo by David Pereiras / Shutterstock

There’s a famous and often-quoted scene from 1967’s Academy Award-winning film, The Graduate, where a family friend of young Dustin Hoffman’s character tells him, “One word…. Plastics. There’s a great future in plastics.” He was trying to encourage Hoffman to start his career in the industry. But he was also inadvertently referring to the longevity of the now ubiquitous product.

Collectively, we produce a mind boggling 380 million tonnes of plastic every year. Unfortunately, only a small portion of that plastic is recycled. Most of the rest ends up in landfills or polluting the environment. And it’s literally everywhere, with plastic bottles and other trash littering everything from the top of Mount Everest to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the deepest known point on Earth in the Pacific Ocean near Guam.

12 things that commonly wash up on Canadian shores

In a report published in the journal Microbial Ecology, researchers based in the Chalmers University of Technology in Sweden, point out that it can take anywhere from 16 to 48 years for a polyethylene terephthalate (PET) bottle to naturally degrade. During that time, much of that material breaks down into what are known as “microplastics”—pieces of plastic debris 5 mm or smaller—with potential health impacts for a broad range of creatures, including humans.

We regularly but unknowingly consume microplastics contained in everything from seafood to table salt. Unfortunately, a paper published in the Journal of Hazardous Materials found that once ingested, microplastics can damage human cells.

Luckily, it seems like Mother Nature may be developing a means of cleanup.

The researchers at Chalmers University explained how they found 30,000 different naturally occurring enzymes found in the gut microbiomes of a variety of species that can eat 10 different kinds of plastic. They also found that there was a direct correlation between an enzyme’s ability to digest a particular type of plastic with the amount of that plastic found in a particular area.

In other words, these enzymes were evolving to develop a taste for plastic. While on the surface that sounds like a frightening biological change, the researchers, based in the Chalmers University of Technology in Sweden, are excited to uncover “microbiome’s potential to degrade plastics.” The hope is that some of these enzymes can be utilized for industrial-scale plastic decomposition.

Trash-trapping Seabins are cleaning the Great Lakes

 

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Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Wet windowsill fix

By mady70/Shutterstock

When we checked on our cottage this winter, I noticed that condensation had puddled on the windowsills. Can we prevent this from happening? The cottage is not heated through the winter, and we do not regularly use it.—Margaret Robinson, via email

You know the science: if warm, humid air inside the cabin meets the cooler surface of a window in winter, condensation forms on the glass.

It’s possible that the air inside warmed up because of the sun. “You could envision how passive solar heating of a cottage could create moisture deposition problems inside,” says Don Fugler, a building scientist in Ottawa.

But, more likely, says Darrell Paul, the managing director of Qualistat Building Performance Consultants in Olds, Alta., is that the condensation is an after-effect of the last time you were at the cottage—when we assume you turned on the heat and then engaged in other humidity-producing behaviours: cooking, showering, and breathing.

In either case, the best way to prevent condensation is to increase ventilation to the cottage. Simple enough while you’re there. Trickier while you’re not. Almost anything that allows outside air into the cottage will help; the problem is “How do you do that safely, in a way that animals won’t get in?” says Fugler. If your chimney is covered by a pest screen, you could open the damper; you could leave a few windows partially open, covered with hardware cloth; you could also install new openings in the cottage, such as fresh air-intake ducts.

If you have reliable power, a small fan—either rated for continuous use or triggered by a humidistat (it responds to relative humidity)—is an alternative.

This article was originally published in the Winter 2017 issue of Cottage Life magazine.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

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Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Heating half a room

By sf_freelance/Shutterstock

We have a large dining room. How can I put in a temporary structure that will allow me to cut off half the room so I don’t have to heat the whole thing?—Spatially Challenged

Sticking a new structure in there sounds complicated. And unnecessary. But sectioning off part of the room and heating only that space is totally doable.

How much money and effort do you want to spend on this project? Options range from simple and visually appealing (thermal curtains hung from a rod) to simple and ugly (thick plastic) to more labour-intensive but still decent looking (building a temporary wall with a series of structural insulated panels). A basic SIP is rigid foam (such as extruded polystyrene) sandwiched between some kind of sheet material (such as panelling or beadboard). The sheets extend beyond the foam to create flanges for screws to attach one SIP to another, or to 2x4s. You could screw the 2x4s to the floor, ceiling, and walls and then slide the SIPs in place.

The problem with a temporary solution is that it’s…temporary. And since curtains offer no vapour barrier, you could get frost and eventually mould (don’t hang any luxury brocade). As an attractive and multi-use option, architect Dale Parkes, a senior lecturer at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C., recommends a set of well-insulated double swing doors. These could split the dining room in two whenever you want. “You can order them in many sizes from almost any hardware store,” says Parkes. And if you’re handy, you can install them yourself.

Check with your building department. A curtain won’t require a permit, but constructing a temporary wall may.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

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Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Heating half a room

By sf_freelance/Shutterstock

We have a large dining room. How can I put in a temporary structure that will allow me to cut off half the room so I don’t have to heat the whole thing?—Spatially Challenged

Sticking a new structure in there sounds complicated. And unnecessary. But sectioning off part of the room and heating only that space is totally doable.

How much money and effort do you want to spend on this project? Options range from simple and visually appealing (thermal curtains hung from a rod) to simple and ugly (thick plastic) to more labour-intensive but still decent looking (building a temporary wall with a series of structural insulated panels). A basic SIP is rigid foam (such as extruded polystyrene) sandwiched between some kind of sheet material (such as panelling or beadboard). The sheets extend beyond the foam to create flanges for screws to attach one SIP to another, or to 2x4s. You could screw the 2x4s to the floor, ceiling, and walls and then slide the SIPs in place.

The problem with a temporary solution is that it’s…temporary. And since curtains offer no vapour barrier, you could get frost and eventually mould (don’t hang any luxury brocade). As an attractive and multi-use option, architect Dale Parkes, a senior lecturer at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C., recommends a set of well-insulated double swing doors. These could split the dining room in two whenever you want. “You can order them in many sizes from almost any hardware store,” says Parkes. And if you’re handy, you can install them yourself.

Check with your building department. A curtain won’t require a permit, but constructing a temporary wall may.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

Categories
Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Heating half a room

By sf_freelance/Shutterstock

We have a large dining room. How can I put in a temporary structure that will allow me to cut off half the room so I don’t have to heat the whole thing?—Spatially Challenged

Sticking a new structure in there sounds complicated. And unnecessary. But sectioning off part of the room and heating only that space is totally doable.

How much money and effort do you want to spend on this project? Options range from simple and visually appealing (thermal curtains hung from a rod) to simple and ugly (thick plastic) to more labour-intensive but still decent looking (building a temporary wall with a series of structural insulated panels). A basic SIP is rigid foam (such as extruded polystyrene) sandwiched between some kind of sheet material (such as panelling or beadboard). The sheets extend beyond the foam to create flanges for screws to attach one SIP to another, or to 2x4s. You could screw the 2x4s to the floor, ceiling, and walls and then slide the SIPs in place.

The problem with a temporary solution is that it’s…temporary. And since curtains offer no vapour barrier, you could get frost and eventually mould (don’t hang any luxury brocade). As an attractive and multi-use option, architect Dale Parkes, a senior lecturer at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C., recommends a set of well-insulated double swing doors. These could split the dining room in two whenever you want. “You can order them in many sizes from almost any hardware store,” says Parkes. And if you’re handy, you can install them yourself.

Check with your building department. A curtain won’t require a permit, but constructing a temporary wall may.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

Categories
Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Heating half a room

By sf_freelance/Shutterstock

We have a large dining room. How can I put in a temporary structure that will allow me to cut off half the room so I don’t have to heat the whole thing?—Spatially Challenged

Sticking a new structure in there sounds complicated. And unnecessary. But sectioning off part of the room and heating only that space is totally doable.

How much money and effort do you want to spend on this project? Options range from simple and visually appealing (thermal curtains hung from a rod) to simple and ugly (thick plastic) to more labour-intensive but still decent looking (building a temporary wall with a series of structural insulated panels). A basic SIP is rigid foam (such as extruded polystyrene) sandwiched between some kind of sheet material (such as panelling or beadboard). The sheets extend beyond the foam to create flanges for screws to attach one SIP to another, or to 2x4s. You could screw the 2x4s to the floor, ceiling, and walls and then slide the SIPs in place.

The problem with a temporary solution is that it’s…temporary. And since curtains offer no vapour barrier, you could get frost and eventually mould (don’t hang any luxury brocade). As an attractive and multi-use option, architect Dale Parkes, a senior lecturer at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C., recommends a set of well-insulated double swing doors. These could split the dining room in two whenever you want. “You can order them in many sizes from almost any hardware store,” says Parkes. And if you’re handy, you can install them yourself.

Check with your building department. A curtain won’t require a permit, but constructing a temporary wall may.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

Categories
Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Heating half a room

By sf_freelance/Shutterstock

We have a large dining room. How can I put in a temporary structure that will allow me to cut off half the room so I don’t have to heat the whole thing?—Spatially Challenged

Sticking a new structure in there sounds complicated. And unnecessary. But sectioning off part of the room and heating only that space is totally doable.

How much money and effort do you want to spend on this project? Options range from simple and visually appealing (thermal curtains hung from a rod) to simple and ugly (thick plastic) to more labour-intensive but still decent looking (building a temporary wall with a series of structural insulated panels). A basic SIP is rigid foam (such as extruded polystyrene) sandwiched between some kind of sheet material (such as panelling or beadboard). The sheets extend beyond the foam to create flanges for screws to attach one SIP to another, or to 2x4s. You could screw the 2x4s to the floor, ceiling, and walls and then slide the SIPs in place.

The problem with a temporary solution is that it’s…temporary. And since curtains offer no vapour barrier, you could get frost and eventually mould (don’t hang any luxury brocade). As an attractive and multi-use option, architect Dale Parkes, a senior lecturer at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C., recommends a set of well-insulated double swing doors. These could split the dining room in two whenever you want. “You can order them in many sizes from almost any hardware store,” says Parkes. And if you’re handy, you can install them yourself.

Check with your building department. A curtain won’t require a permit, but constructing a temporary wall may.

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

Categories
Cottage Life

Is the coywolf the most Canadian animal?

Photo by Fiona M. Donnelly / Shutterstock

This essay about the coywolf was originally published as part of “The Great Canadian Creature Feature” in the June/July issue of Cottage Life.

Animals are oblivious to national borders. Their habitats pay no heed to lines on a map; birds and herds migrate across them at will. They were roaming the landscape long before those lines were drawn anyway. No nation can ever truly lay claim to any one beast as its national animal. 

The coywolf is, quite possibly, the only known exception to this rule. It is the rarest of breeds: a new species of hybrid origin, a mammal forged before our eyes. The coywolf is younger than zoology, younger than even Canada itself, having emerged only in the last 75 to 100 years.  

The coywolf’s origins trace deep into Canada’s cottaging heartland. In the early 20th century, as North America’s population grew and its landscape was colonized, the eastern wolf population (Canis lycaons) was hit hard. Facing a habitat squeeze and eradication campaigns, the wolves headed north from the eastern seaboard and the St. Lawrence lowlands. By the 1950s their few remaining numbers had found safe haven in and around Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park. That’s when they met up with some western coyotes (Canis latrans) who, facing similar habitat pressures, had migrated from the American midwest and the central plains region of Canada. 

So began the greatest-ever dirty weekend in the history of cottage country. For the coyotes, it was probably not love at first sight. The western gray wolf (Canis lupus) kills coyotes, so the idea of getting cozy with its eastern cousin probably seemed a bit dodgy. But eastern wolves, being significantly smaller than western ones, were a lot less intimidating. They were also eagerly seeking to diversify the gene pool, so they’d have been in a welcoming frame of mind. Plus both were new to the area, and there’s no better icebreaker than “where you from?” 

13 things you didn’t know about coyotes

The courtship turned out to be quick, and the marriage mind-blowingly successful. Their offspring are acknowledged by scientists as a species of hybrid origin: zoologists call them “eastern coyotes” and the rest of us call them “coywolves.” (For taxonomy nerds, they are known as “Canis latrans var.,” or “coyote variant.”) Coywolf is the better name, given that the species is a perfect fusion of its ancestors’ inherent traits, to the point of practically wielding mutant superpowers. 

The coywolf’s size falls somewhere between wolves and coyotes, weighing in at roughly 45 pounds on average—small enough for stealth and agility, but big enough to throw its weight around. They can be loners or travel in packs. They can hunt together to take down deer, or subsist happily on rabbits, birds, and berries, or shop for groceries, ie., raid a chicken coop. 

But perhaps their most remarkable trait is their habitat adaptability: they can live anywhere. And at a time when the combined pressures of ongoing habitat loss and accelerating climate change are putting more and more species at risk, the coywolf is kicking everybody’s ass. Like wolves, they are comfortable in the wild, but like coyotes, they’re not perturbed by human settlement. They happily nest and hunt amid rolling hills, farmland, and even in urban areas. Across eastern Canada and the New England states and as far south as Virginia, the “coyotes” people keep seeing in their backyards are most likely Algonquin Park coywolves, busy reconquering the continent. 

So in addition to being made in this country, the coywolf’s traits are clearly and distinctively Canadian. We all love our big-city amenities, as well as the joys of escaping them. We know how to nest in any habitat; there’s no landscape we can’t call home. We can get along with just about anyone, and we believe there is strength in diversity. Truly, we are all coywolves.

 

Facts & figures

​​ Let’s talk about sex, baby: Unlike some other hybrid species—mules, hinnies, ligres—coywolves are fertile and can reproduce.

And the winner is… Scientists call coywolves “the most adaptable mammals on the planet.” 

 A wolf in alternate clothing: For a long time, people thought coywolves were just large coyotes.

 

Read more essays from “The Great Canadian Creature Feature” to read more of our favourite writers making the case for their pick for the most Canadian animal in the June/July 2021 issue of Cottage Life.

 

Categories
Cottage Life

Is the coywolf the most Canadian animal?

Photo by Fiona M. Donnelly / Shutterstock

This essay about the coywolf was originally published as part of “The Great Canadian Creature Feature” in the June/July issue of Cottage Life.

Animals are oblivious to national borders. Their habitats pay no heed to lines on a map; birds and herds migrate across them at will. They were roaming the landscape long before those lines were drawn anyway. No nation can ever truly lay claim to any one beast as its national animal. 

The coywolf is, quite possibly, the only known exception to this rule. It is the rarest of breeds: a new species of hybrid origin, a mammal forged before our eyes. The coywolf is younger than zoology, younger than even Canada itself, having emerged only in the last 75 to 100 years.  

The coywolf’s origins trace deep into Canada’s cottaging heartland. In the early 20th century, as North America’s population grew and its landscape was colonized, the eastern wolf population (Canis lycaons) was hit hard. Facing a habitat squeeze and eradication campaigns, the wolves headed north from the eastern seaboard and the St. Lawrence lowlands. By the 1950s their few remaining numbers had found safe haven in and around Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park. That’s when they met up with some western coyotes (Canis latrans) who, facing similar habitat pressures, had migrated from the American midwest and the central plains region of Canada. 

So began the greatest-ever dirty weekend in the history of cottage country. For the coyotes, it was probably not love at first sight. The western gray wolf (Canis lupus) kills coyotes, so the idea of getting cozy with its eastern cousin probably seemed a bit dodgy. But eastern wolves, being significantly smaller than western ones, were a lot less intimidating. They were also eagerly seeking to diversify the gene pool, so they’d have been in a welcoming frame of mind. Plus both were new to the area, and there’s no better icebreaker than “where you from?” 

13 things you didn’t know about coyotes

The courtship turned out to be quick, and the marriage mind-blowingly successful. Their offspring are acknowledged by scientists as a species of hybrid origin: zoologists call them “eastern coyotes” and the rest of us call them “coywolves.” (For taxonomy nerds, they are known as “Canis latrans var.,” or “coyote variant.”) Coywolf is the better name, given that the species is a perfect fusion of its ancestors’ inherent traits, to the point of practically wielding mutant superpowers. 

The coywolf’s size falls somewhere between wolves and coyotes, weighing in at roughly 45 pounds on average—small enough for stealth and agility, but big enough to throw its weight around. They can be loners or travel in packs. They can hunt together to take down deer, or subsist happily on rabbits, birds, and berries, or shop for groceries, ie., raid a chicken coop. 

But perhaps their most remarkable trait is their habitat adaptability: they can live anywhere. And at a time when the combined pressures of ongoing habitat loss and accelerating climate change are putting more and more species at risk, the coywolf is kicking everybody’s ass. Like wolves, they are comfortable in the wild, but like coyotes, they’re not perturbed by human settlement. They happily nest and hunt amid rolling hills, farmland, and even in urban areas. Across eastern Canada and the New England states and as far south as Virginia, the “coyotes” people keep seeing in their backyards are most likely Algonquin Park coywolves, busy reconquering the continent. 

So in addition to being made in this country, the coywolf’s traits are clearly and distinctively Canadian. We all love our big-city amenities, as well as the joys of escaping them. We know how to nest in any habitat; there’s no landscape we can’t call home. We can get along with just about anyone, and we believe there is strength in diversity. Truly, we are all coywolves.

 

Facts & figures

​​ Let’s talk about sex, baby: Unlike some other hybrid species—mules, hinnies, ligres—coywolves are fertile and can reproduce.

And the winner is… Scientists call coywolves “the most adaptable mammals on the planet.” 

 A wolf in alternate clothing: For a long time, people thought coywolves were just large coyotes.

 

Read more essays from “The Great Canadian Creature Feature” to read more of our favourite writers making the case for their pick for the most Canadian animal in the June/July 2021 issue of Cottage Life.