Along the banks of the St. Lawrence River
I grew up on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. Our house was located right on the water, on the South Shore of Montreal between St. Lambert and what is now Brossard, Quebec. There were giant cottonwood trees on the property, silver maples, American elms and lilac bushes, whose leaves fluttered in the breeze off the river, and whose branches served as homes for a wide range of birds from American robins to evening grosbeaks, woodpeckers, red-winged blackbirds, northern orioles, dark-eyed juncos, cardinals and others besides.
A blue heron getting a grip on a snapping turtle
From my window overlooking the river, meanwhile, I could see blue herons, Canada geese and black ducks paddling in the water. Unfortunately, I never saw a swan there. Occasionally northern pike and white perch jumped after a passing fly. When I sat on my favourite rock, along the water, I could make out pumpkinseed sunfish and the odd snapping turtle in the shallows, among the reeds and cattails.
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Here is a blue heron fishing, with red-winged blackbirds in the background (in the public domain, from the US Fish and Wildlife Service)
I remember the opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway, in April 1959, when I was just over two years old. First came two icebreakers, edging aside cakes of ice: the d’Iberville and the Montcalm (spring came later in those days). There was actually an irregular watermark along our basement walls, since the build-up of ice over the winter had led to massive floods during the Second World War. Following the icebreakers, there began a procession of strange ships: little canallers built for the Lachine Canal, their thin tall smokestacks belching out black smoke, larger ocean-going vessels, their coal-fired motors puttering along, the voices of officers on ship radios wafting across the water in the dark of night, the wakes of ships rolling onto our beach, like a series of long sighs, once the ships had passed.
The two icebreakers in the St. Lambert lock, on opening day in April 1959
A lot of things have changed since then. I couldn’t have known it at the time, but the advent of the Seaway heralded the arrival of industrialization, which pretty much engulfed the hamlet of Préville where I grew up, smothering it with concrete, tearing it away from the river bank forever by building highway 132 along the water. The hamlet was swallowed up by a larger municipality, St. Lambert, and I believe St. Lambert should be added to the list of communities destroyed, amputated or otherwise altered for the worse by the Seaway and later highways, along with Kahnawake, Iroquois, Prescott and other places upstream.
A fawn in the woods
I have been walking a lot lately in an extraordinary park near Montreal, le Parc des Îles de Boucherville, which brings back that magical side of childhood - the discovery of Nature. This Quebec provincial park, spread out over a few islands further downstream from where I grew up, but still opposite Montreal, currently has a population of 117 red deer, as well as other mammals such as marmots, mink, red foxes and even some coyotes, which prey naturally on the fawns.
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This is a woodpecker tapping (in the public domain)
What I love most of all in this park is the direct contact with the river. In fact, these walks have thrown me back into my favourite reading as a child - The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame. Do you know it? I remember one passage that simply changed my life and has never left me since: “He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in his life had he seen a river before - this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and a-shiver - glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble…”
The magic of the river
More than 300 species of birds can be found in this park, and many other animals besides. It is a place to enjoy sunny weather in summer, to hike, kayak, idle, meditate, be one with Nature. I have produced quite a few nature documentaries over the years, and even one on board an icebreaker in the Beaufort Sea. I realize that many of them were an attempt to restore something precious that I had known as a child, but sometimes felt afterwards that I had lost.
Along the banks of the St Lawrence River, in the Parc des Îles de Boucherville, I now realize nothing is lost. I have found one of the greatest natural treasures around Montreal.
Canada Goose and her five goslings
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Canada Geese (in the public domain)
Map of the Parc des Îles de Boucherville
Curieux hasard de la vie. Je croyais être le seul à cultiver une nostalgie pour ces rives ravagées par l’autoroute 132. J’ai grandi comme un sauvage dans cet environnement qui a marqué mon enfance. J’avais le privilège de pouvoir découvrir le moindre détail de ces rives en chaloupe à rames. Gamin, j’avais peur de mettre les pieds à l’eau. Il y avait tellement de vie dans ce littoral: écrevisses, salamandres, tortues, bancs de barbottes…
Dans les années 50, vue de ces rives, Montréal apparaissait recouverte d’un nuage de smog. Parfois les rives montréalaises s’enflammaient. Les déchets de la métropole étaient refoulés dans le fleuve. Est-ce qu’on mettait le feu aux déchets ou étaient-ce les gaz dégagés par la putréfaction…
Mon premier contact avec la voie maritime a été périlleux. L’ouvrage de remblais était formé de gros blocs de pierre tirés des entrailles montréalaises durant les travaux de construction du métro. Les arrêtes étaient coupantes et les surfaces glissantes recouvertes d’une substance huileuse. Je n’avais rien pour attacher la chaloupe et celle-ci pouvait être emportée par le courant créé par les laquiers des Grands Lacs qui circulaient dans la canalisation.
Aujourd’hui, l’érosion a fait son travail sur les remblais de la voie maritime. J’admire les arbres qui ont poussé sur un terreau soufflé par les vents. Il sont devenus une composante essentielle à la conservation de la digue. La faune a pris possession des lieux.
Parfois, je cherche un morceau de ce paradis perdu: un des rares ormes centenaires plantés par mon grand-père, la digue du ruisseau aux carpes cachée dans une enclave d’une sortie de l’autoroute…
Occasionnellement, je me demande combien de temps il faudrait pour que la nature digère la route 132 si on la laissait faire son oeuvre.
Merci de stimuler cette mémoire!
Hubert Simard
Merci de vos commentaires, Hubert. A bientôt! George
[...] Along the banks of the St. Lawrence River « Evidentia Jun 29, 2010… procession of strange ships: little canallers built for the Lachine Canal,. It is a place to enjoy sunny weather in summer, to hike, kayak,. Canada Geese (in the public domain). Map of the Parc des Îles de. Occasionnellement, je me demande combien de temps il faudrait pour que la nature Along the banks of the St. Lawrence River « Evidentia [...]
I grew up in St Lambert at the foot of Victoria and Riverside, and later 2 blocks west at the foot of Lorne. This was before the Seaway in 1958 and I recall swimming in the river all the way out to an island in mid-stream (Gull Island- or Iles aux grues?), where the Montreal Casino now sits. The bird life was considerable and there was a cacophony of sound on this small island. There were only a few deep spots reaching the island from the south shore, and with swimming goggles, one could discover left over railroad ties and spikes, from the late 1800’s winter “Ice railroad bridge” that preceded Victoria bridge. There was a 12′ or 15′ sea wall along the river to keep spring ice flows away from Riverside Drive. At the foot of Victoria street, there was a high monument we used to climb, commemorating the first railroad in Canada, between there and La Prairie.
That all changed with the advent of the Seaway which forever changed the river as we knew it, By then the Interurban streetcars that crossed Victoria Bridge were gone. I recall many cold winter mornings waiting for the Colonial Transport 7 AM bus along wind swept Riverside Drive as I commuted into Montreal and the College Ste Marie at Dorchester and Bleury. The dust, noise and loss of scenery drove our family inland away from the water and we settled on Pine Street in St Lambert. It was closer to the “soda bar” hang-out on Victoria and to the movie theater and bowling- long gone now, but I always will miss the swimming in the St Lawrence where ocean ships now ply.
Hi Paul, thanks for these lovely memories. Best regards, George