A few days before I started writing this, the city was blanketed in suffocating smoke- the result of some truly awful fires in our province. The smoke made me nauseous and dizzy, so I can only imagine how someone with respiratory problems felt. The orange, dour skies seemed apocalyptic, as many of us wondered if this was how our summers were going to be from now on, with our province endlessly suffering from the wrath of nature.
Though this fear remains, thankfully, the worst of that batch of smoke cleared up about as fast as it rolled in, replaced by sunny, hot weather. Clear skies motivated me to go meet with Sundance resident Ted New and take a walk into Fish Creek Park.
As I headed out to meet him, I was reminded of a series of trips I took down to Fish Creek several years ago with my old friend Matt. We were typically accompanied by a rotating cast of friends, who either grew up on the southeast side of the park, like us, or along some other border of the sprawling valley. To me, Fish Creek was always the dry prairie on its east end, as this is what was in my own backyard. Spending more time in the rocky forests to the west and the creek-river confluence in the far east, I got a very different perspective of the park.
These trips also affected my perspective on time, as I reflected on the changes that occurred in areas I had visited years before: the hills on the north side, where we had once played during a field trip in grade 4, looked eroded, perhaps from kids like us having played on them for so many years. And the ice caves, once easily accessible, had their path destroyed by the 2005 floods.
There was a real sense of awe in those moments, and looking back now, the combination of stark change and nostalgia was probably the real spark for my heavy interest in our local history. In the years since, I have written many articles about the area, published or otherwise, and have usually tried to reach some broad conclusion about the topic at hand every time I do. Yet I was never able to come up with a succinct take on Fish Creek Park. There are too many layers: the history, the development, the geology. The famous local names that once resided there (Glenn, Shaw, Burns, Hall et al.). The wide array of groups that use it now. The collision of industry and nature, city and province, residence and wilderness. I eventually had to settle on the inconclusive idea of Fish Creek being the unconscious of our area- perhaps incomprehensible, yet deeply reflective and motivating.
Even if I don’t expect to truly understand Fish Creek, I am always interested in learning more about it, and there is always more to learn. My recent trip there with Mr. New was focused on visiting a bison pishkun, on the north side of Sundance (“pishkun” is a Blackfoot word meaning “deep blood kettle”, referring to buffalo jumps). A few months earlier, I had been taken to visit a similar site, this time in Midnapore, by resident Leon Drinnin. As their stories form the basis of much of this article, I want to extend a special thanks to both these men for sharing their knowledge of the park and other topics.
There are apparently many such pishkun located around the Fish Creek valley, often marked by depressions in the ground, or cow parsnip sprouting up (as they require phosphorous-rich soil, their presence could indicate bison bones that have spread this mineral below). The pishkun have been discovered by construction workers who never meant to find them, and studied by archaeologists who were happy they did, since the jumps provide a tremendous source of history and culture.
Unlike the steep cliffs of larger sites, such as Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, a UNESCO World Heritage site in southern Alberta, the Fish Creek pishkun are not typically steep enough for a bison to fall off and perish from impact. However, they could trip and become easier to hunt, or simply be led closer to hunters waiting nearby. The food and materials collected from this practice sustained Indigenous peoples in our area, and all over the prairies, for thousands of years. Though the practice ended in Fish Creek hundreds of years ago, and the evidence has been buried by centuries of plant growth and development, the history remains something incredible, that is just under our feet, reaching out and drawing us in, much like the park.
Fish Creek’s unique, otherworldly presence can be felt right at its boundary. Near the tree line in some areas are the remnants of old fence posts, marking out the section lines of the Burns ranch. More numerous and obvious are the large wooden stakes along the park’s edge, showing where city land ends and provincial land begins; Fish Creek cuts our community off from the rest of the city, not only through its geography, but through its jurisdiction as well. These boundaries between the neighbourhood and the park provide some of the best stories as well. Many of us can recall deer or even coyotes coming out of the park to eat from the ornamental trees planted in our yards and along our lanes. Our trees, in turn, spread their saplings into the parkland, which the animals return to.
Sometimes the wildlife doesn’t return to the park though, as the recent deluge of excitement and panic over the bobcats has shown (there have been suggestions to change the name of the Mid-Sun Blockwatch page to the Mid-Sun Bobcat page in light of it’s heavy coverage at www.facebook.com/midsunblockwatch). Bobcats have been spotted all over the city, though, so their presence isn’t solely due to Fish Creek, even if it is the source of our felines. Regardless, the cats are inevitable in our area for the time being, and though they are unlikely to harm you, your kids, or your pets, you should still exercise caution. Keep your yard clean to prevent dens and avoid letting your pets roam. For more info on dealing with bobcats, and all local wildlife, visit www.alberta.ca/human-wildlife-conflict.aspx
Considering the recent bobcat and coyote sightings, there has also been some interest in having a wildlife workshop in our area, to discuss animal behavior, and how we can safely interact with them. If this is something you would be interested in attending, let me know.
Fish Creek’s plant life has also been a contentious topic for the past while. Again, on my most recent trip there, I was shown charming plants like the yellow-flowered buffalo beans, but also the invasive and notorious leafy spurge. And while I hate to concede any ground to my dad’s frequent dismissal of the park as “overgrown” and “weed-ridden”, seeing piles of leafy spurge on the park’s south slope is alarming. As citizens, we must push for the province to stick to its obligation to look after the park grounds, and figure out if there are other ways we can help mitigate this problem. If you are interested in learning more about the noxious weeds, contact me and I will put you in touch with the group that has been spearheading efforts to control their spread the past few years.
There is always more to say about Fish Creek, and I don’t know if I will ever be finished writing about it (though looking at the word count here, I should wrap up this article at the very least). However, I do know that I am far from alone in collecting stories from the park- as our MLA office recently told us, Fish Creek sees over 4 million visits annually, making it, predictably, the busiest Provincial Park in Alberta. If you are visiting soon, note that the Glennfield area east of Macleod Trail is closed for renovations this year, and is inaccessible- no barbecues in the cheesehuts for a while! To drive into the park, you will need to use another access, from Sikome, Bow Bottom Trail, or the west side.
And if you are heading out to any parks this summer, please pay attention to wildfires (www.wildfire.alberta.ca) and fire bans. Let’s do all we can to keep the skies clear and continue enjoying the summer.
Mark Schmidt
President, Mid-Sun Community Association
