The Predators Of Point Farms

It only rained once on the way to Point Farms Provincial Park. Then it was sunny with clouds for the rest of the day. I stopped for gas and something to eat along the way. So I arrived at Point Farms at about 2:30 p.m.
There were no signs for directions the entire time until you have arrived so, it's a good thing that the GPS works well here. 

The lady at the gate house was nice and told me that the rangers are only in the park until 4 today but that she would be here until 6 pm if I needed anything. 

The gate house doubles as the park store so, I took a look around. 

The Sitting Gnome Doorstops caught my eye but I didn't buy one. 

Instead I bought a very cute little Christmas ornament. It is a  marshmallow snowman sitting on chocolate and a graham cracker like a S'more. 
It may not be the Christmas season yet, but I couldn't resist. 

​And of course, I purchased the Point Farms sticker for my Provincial Parks Passport book. 

At the check out, the lady at the desk gave me a map of the park and showed me the route to my site with a pink highlighter. 

I had reserved the site online in the Huron section of the park. It wasn't right on the lake but access to the lake was nearby. 

As I drove to my site I was happy to remember that I had chosen a radio free section. 

I had chosen site 77 for my campsite.  There are no places to put registration papers on the posts anymore. Just a simple number plaque. 

For a site not directly on the lake, I would have to say that this site is as perfect as they come. It is quite large and is flat and fairly private. 

It even has the water tap right on site.   Once again I fought with the dining tent to get it up. It didn't take me quite as long this time since I had the practice of putting it up once already at the last park. However, I realized that I had forgotten to buy duct tape at the park store to fix the broken pole. But I managed to make it work again.  

And of course my faithful ole orange tent went up within 3 minutes without any issues. 

The other nice thing about this site is that it is pretty close to the comfort station. It was maybe 2 or 3 sites away from me. 

The comfort station was perfectly clean and is great shape They even provided a sharps box for campers that were diabetic or had to use needles for other medical ailments.  It's pretty rare to see that in Ontario comfort stations. 

The children's play structure was situated right outside the comfort station. Now someone was using their thinking cap when they designed that.  Perfect for parents to sit on a bench and watch their kids play. Then if the kids have to go to the bathroom or get washed up, the bathroom is right there. 

I couldn't help but admire a very tall, gorgeous weeping willow tree in one of the nearby sites. I have always had a fondness for weeping willows. 

By 4 pm my site was all set up and I was ready to see what this park had to offer.  Where to start? I checked the map and noticed that the stairs to the beach were right across from my site. I decided that would be where I would start. 

I was just crossing the road to get to the stairs when I stopped short. Right in front of me was a little visitor. An Eastern Cottontail rabbit froze in it's tracks and waited for me to make a move.  It didn't flinch and we both just stood there looking at each other neither one of us daring to make the first move.  The stillness of the moment amplified the delicate tension between us in our silent standoff. 

Finally, I decided that I couldn't stay standing there forever and I made the first move. I took a cautious step forward, breaking the spell.  As expected, the rabbit made dash for the tall grasses and underbrush. 

Across the road, the Knapweeds with their spiky purple blooms reminded me of the wildness of a lion's mane. 

While the New England Asters seemed more like little rays of purple sunshine.

The stairs to the beach were steep and went a long way down. It was good that they were there though because climbing down this bluff to get tot he bottom would have been a nightmare otherwise. 

Once in awhile I stopped on the stairs to look at the view over the lake. It was so peaceful. 

There was even a bench you could sit on if the climb up or down got to be too much for you. 

At the bottom of the stairs there was a blue sign indicating that these were the stairs to the Huron campsites. There are a number of beaches and a number of stairs along the coast line.  Each set of stairs has a sign like this because all the stairs looked pretty much the same. This way, if you walked down the beach you would know roughly where you are.  This particular section of the beach is the dog beach. 

To my left, the pebbly beach stretched out to the point, a long, grey ribbon disappearing into the hazy distance.

To my right were bluer skies and the park map showed promise of a number of hiking trails in this direction. There was no one else on the beach. I was alone with my thoughts. The rhythmic sound of the water lapping against the shore created a soothing backdrop, punctuated by the occasional cry of a seagull.

​The beach was made up of the same type of stone that I had seen in Misery Bay. It was alien looking and made me feel like I had stumbled upon a forgotten planet. 

This alien planet has a geological marvel (well, in my mind anyway) in the form of a solitary boulder. Encased within this stone are a multitude of smaller stones, each one unique, resembling stars scattered against the vastness of a midnight sky.

Although there were no other people around, there were signs that others had been there previously.  A  flat rock caught my eye, adorned with a vibrant blue marker drawing of a radiant sun, its rays reaching out like fingers of warmth. Above the cheerful illustration, the words "To Alex" were carefully written. I don't know if this was left behind for Alex to find or if Alex got the rock and had just accidentally left it behind. But just in case you didn't get it, Alex, this one is for you! 

I had my map with me and I decided to follow what I thought was "Below The Bluff" trail. The path started out wide, well worn, and lined with cedar trees. 

I came to a dried up creek bed and quickly and easily hopped over it. 

As I continued the path became narrower and the trees grew closer together. I didn't think much of it. I just figured that it was not a well used trail. 

Eventually I came to a spot where I found a piece of material hanging from the branch of a tree. 

When I got up close to it I found that it was actually the remains of a make shift camp. Someone had laid down some flat stones to make a floor between some old cedar trees. They had rolled some logs to either use as a seat or to act as a bit of a wall. I suppose the bit of material hanging from the tree was left over from the canvas or tarp that they had over this little lean-to.  I wondered if this was made by someone hiking during the winter or if someone perhaps canoed here and just spent the night in the woods. Or maybe neither of those scenarios. Whatever the case, this was an old campsite and long ago abandoned. It seemed odd that someone would build a lean-to directly beside the trail. 

It was getting harder to make out the trail but I could still see it and I had come this far so I didn't want to turn back. I just kept the lake to my left. 

I came to another dried up creek bed that had an uprooted tree in it. This one took a little more effort to cross. 

An then I came to a second lean-to.  This one was made of sticks and leaves and was quite a bit more sheltered than the last one.  But it lacked the nice stone floor on the bottom.  By now I had all but lost the trail. And I was thinking that I must have missed a turn or a sign or something back a ways.  Or maybe this never was the Below The Bluff Trail in the first place. 

Once I discovered the old carcass of a deer, I knew that I was definitely not on the right trail. 

The bones had been picked clean and were not fresh, but they weren't completely old either. Some parts of the bones were starting to turn green with age. The deer wasn't a big one. The skull was about as big as my hand.  I wondered what the story was here. Was this the work of some wolves? Or had someone been living on this trail at some point and had found themselves a meal? I decided that was unlikely and leaned more towards the predatory animal theory.  

By this time there really was no trail left. But I was too stubborn to turn aro9und and go back. So I just kept pushing through the brush until finally I could see a blue sign up ahead. 

I popped out of the woods and onto a proper trail.  I have no idea where exactly I had been but it was a bit of an adventure. 

​ Before me was the sign for the Below The Bluff  trail as well as for the Colborne campsites. 

Once again the trail was wide, well worn, and lined with cedar trees. And this time it stayed that way. 

I followed the Below The Bluff Trail until I came to a parking lot. This was the parking lot to the next beach. 

I had been walking for awhile so I was happy to see a vault toilet by the parking lot. 

It was your usual vault toilet, not a flush one. It was clean and had a relatively fresh coat of white paint on the inside.  Something I had not seen on a vault toilet before was a place to chain your dog. This would have been very handy if I had my dog with me. Especially for those of us who travel alone with our dog sometimes. It would be good to see more of these installed on park toilets. 

The parking lot was fairly large so you know that this beach must be popular during the heat of mid-summer. 

I was no longer on the pet beach anymore if these signs were any indication. But at least dogs were not banned from this beach altogether. 

I went from the parking lot out onto the  the soft, cool sand. The beach, usually bustling with families and sun-seekers, lay serenely empty, its vastness stretching endlessly before me. 

 I felt a profound sense of peace as I walked along the water’s edge, the rhythmic sound of the surf providing a soothing soundtrack to my solitude.

A sleek black silhouette glided through the water, breaking the surface with effortless grace. It was a cormorant, its long neck stretched out.

 A solitary seagull perched on a submerged rock, preening itself, created an optical illusion that made it appear as if it were effortlessly standing on the surface of the water.

At the far end of the beach were the stairs to go up the bluff to the Colborne sites. 

Under it was a "You Are Here" sign. Very convenient. I could have used one of those when I was on my little adventure on the mystery trail. 

I decided not to go up the stairs but instead continue to follow the Below The Bluff Trail to it's end. 
​

I stopped to admire a tree stump. Its rough, weathered bark, now mostly decayed, cradles a delicate tapestry of lacy brown and white moss that cascades gracefully over its edges.. 

Eventually I came to the end of the trail. 

You couldn't go any further without crossing through a murky, creek of cloudy water.  

The cloudy water doesn't even reach the lake. It stops short and just seems to seep through under the sand to finish it's journey. 

The trail led back out onto the empty beach. Now I was at the very other end of the park. 

I had reached the boundary of the park. 

And right on the boundary was a dead Canadian Goose. I am not sure what killed it. There was no sign of it being shot and it was not torn apart by animals. 

So where do you go when you have gone as far as you can go? Back I guess. So, I turned around and headed back up the Below The Bluff Trail. 

I came to an intersection where I had the option to climb a set of stairs to get to he Ravine Trail which also goes towards the Group sites. 

I climbed the stairs and noticed the cautionary sign about Poison Ivy growing at the top of this hill. 

I took this opportunity to familiarize myself with the leaves of the Poison Ivy plant at various stages of its colour change in the fall.  If you were to ask me to point out poison ivy I am not sure I would always be able to do it. I do know the rhyme leaves of 3 let it be. And I know it has red stems and I know that it has kind of a mitten shaped leaf. ​However, I also know that it can vary in shape and colour depending on the time of year.  With this patch I was able to see it in green. 

And yellow in yellow

And in red. 

But I didn't get too close to it and instead walked in the opposite direction down the Ravine Trail. 

The trees down this trail made a canopy over the path so that you feel like you are entering a tunnel or a hobbit door. 

There was a picnic table at a place that I think was intended to be a lookout at one time. However, the trees down the ravine have grown so high that there is nothing to look at at the look out anymore. 

This is your view at the lookout. 

So I didn't stay at the lookout and instead continued down some serene and beautiful trails . 

At one point I looked to my right and through an opening in the trees I saw the ravine. This was probably where the lookout should be now. However, even this spot is not the greatest for a lookout. 

Well the lookout might not be something to behold but the purple Asters are. 

And near the very end of the trail there is and apple tree with plenty of green apples growing on it. 

The end of the Ravine Trail comes out onto the main park road.  It was starting to get late so I figured I would follow the road back to my campsite. 

But as I walked down the road I saw a sign pointing to the Stirling Barn. Since I could actually see the barn I figured I would make a quick detour and check it out. Then I noticed that the sign also said the Colborne sites were in that direction too. So I checked the map and figured out that if I just followed this trail it would eventually lead me back to my own campsite. 

​The old barn stood alone and abandoned, its weathered wooden beams creaking softly in the wind, whispering tales of a vibrant past. Only the birds were frequenting this spot now. 

Once bustling with laughter and the energetic chatter of children and adults alike, it served as the Point Farms Activity Center until 2006; a hub for community gatherings, Heritage Days, movie nights, weddings, workshops, and seasonal festivities. ​

I was immensely enjoying the  peace and solitude. I had taken on the challenge of trying to snap a picture of one of the many Northern Flickers that were flitting about all over the place. But the peace was short lived.  I never did get a picture because along came a guy with his dog.  It was not that they were all that noisy or anything. It's just that as I am trying to stand perfectly still to get a picture, they were walking by and scaring the birds off. So I gave up trying. Besides, it was getting to be close to sunset now. 

So, instead I continued on to the trail. The trail actually splits up into two directions at this juncture. I could go down the slightly longer Tortoise Trail or the quick and shorter Hare Trail.  They both end up at the same spot at the other end so it didn't matter too much which one I chose.   The guy and his dog seemed to be heading towards the Tortoise trail so I chose the Hare Trail. 

It was a nice little walk and I could hear the guy and his dog through the bushes on the other side of me. I took my time so that I wouldn't be bumping into him at the other end. I figured if I went slowly they would get far enough ahead that I could go back to trying to get photos of birds. So, I started to walk at a snail's pace. 

I was getting close to the end of the trail when all of a sudden a hare jumped out in front of me. It was probably spooked by the sound of the dog on the neighbouring trail. It stopped only for a brief moment, saw me and then darted back into the bush on the other side of the trail. 

I thought "How fitting!  A hare on The Hare Trail! I wonder if I had taken the Tortoise Trail if I would have seen  tortoise?" And I chuckled to myself. 

Both trails joined up at the edge of a large sports field. Since I had slowed my pace, I was happy to see that hey guy and his dog were now a good distance ahead of me and were disappearing into the tree line on the far side of the field now. 

I was kind of surprised to find this field tucked away in the middle of the park. I had stumbled upon a hidden gem that seemed almost secretive in its charm. The field, nestled discreetly amid the trees, wasn’t indicated on the park map, which only added to its allure. I was struck by its generous size, boasting a well-maintained baseball diamond that beckoned for a friendly game. Nearby, a couple of picnic tables were scattered, perfect for a relaxing lunch or an afternoon gathering with friends. 

To my delight, I also discovered a horseshoe pit, its worn stakes hinting at many spirited competitions over the years. Too bad I didn't have anyone with me on this trip to play horse shoes with. That's ok though. I am really not very good at it anyways. 

I checked the map once more and noticed that the trail would be swinging close by the beach again before heading back to my campsite. I decided that I would try to make it back to the beach one last time for the day in order to try to see the sunset. 

With the map in hand and the sun beginning its slow descent, I felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of witnessing the sunset over the water. The hopes of vibrant oranges and pinks dancing across the horizon propelled me forward, my footsteps quickening along the winding trail. As I focused on the path ahead, I couldn't help but admire the delicate goldenrod flowers peeking through the underbrush. Their bright yellow blooms stood out against the rich greens of the foliage, a reminder of nature's subtle beauty. Each step brought me closer to the beach. The thought of the serene waves reflecting the twilight sky spurred me on, urging me to reach the shore before the day's light faded completely.

Soon, the trail merged with a dirt road, revealing a canvas of God's artistry beneath me. I paused to admire the old brown and black maple leaves etched into the grey clay, their intricate shapes and details frozen in time like ancient fossils.. Each leaf told a story of seasons past, a moment captured in nature’s gallery. 

The golden hour cast a warm glow on everything around me, illuminating the earth beneath my feet.
As I stood at the water’s edge, the rhythmic crashing of waves seemed to echo the heartbeat of the ancient earth beneath me. The slate grey stones, worn smooth by eons of relentless tides, cradled delicate imprints of long-extinct sea creatures—tiny trilobites and the spiraled shells of ammonites. My thoughts drifted back to the embedded maple leaves I had just seen. What a coincidence that I had just been thinking about fossils and now here were some fossils right beneath my feet. 

I turned my attention towards the horizon and the impending sunset. The sun was behind a dark cloud and I was not sure if it would make an appearance long enough to paint the sky with its vibrant hues. 

But I didn't need to worry. As the sun sunk lower, the clouds floated higher, separating the two. The vibrant hues of orangs spilled across the sky, casting a warm glow over the landscape. 

Far out on the horizon there was a misty cloud formation. It made for a unique looking sunset. The way the clouds covered the sun in haze, reminded me of the book cover that I had made for my dad for his very first ever published book, The Saga Kings. 

In Norse mythology, the wolf Sköll is the entity prophesied to eat the sun during Ragnarök (a foretold series of catastrophic events in Norse mythology that culminate in a great battle between the gods and giants).  I half expected to see the the clouds take on the shape of Sköll just as it is on my dad's book cover.  

This sunset, with its ethereal beauty, enveloped me in nostalgia, making the distance between us feel smaller. In that moment, I felt an unbreakable connection to him, longing for his warmth and wisdom as the day surrendered to night. 

But the clouds of Sköll did not swallow up the sun this evening.  Instead, the sun set silently, and I turned to climb up the long set of stairs back up to my campsite. 

At the top of the stairs I paused for a few moments to admire a very large tree silhouetted against the twilight sky. Now I was reminded of my mother who had always had a connection to trees and rocky landscapes.  She used to say that when you sat under a tree you could feel the energy from it. And every tree had a different energy.

Wistfully, I wished she and my dad were both still here on this trip with me. They both would have loved it here. I know that they are here, but it's different now. 

By the time I got back to camp it as just after 7 pm.  My new friend the rabbit was visiting me at my campsite.
​It stuck around for a good long time, even while I was making a fire for my supper. Eventually it left though, before it got too dark.  

When it got dark, something amazing happened. At first I thought it was a group of foxes. They started yipping and barking. They were close. Very close. It sounded like they were a few campsites over, just past the comfort station.

But a few minutes later The yipping turned into long drawn out howls. I knew by the howls and the fact that it sounded like there were so many of them (maybe 8 - 10 of them) that it couldn't be foxes. Foxes don't howl like that and they don't tend to gather in large groups like that. While foxes are generally solitary hunters, they often form small family groups, particularly during the breeding season and when raising young. But this was not breeding season and the group sounded too big. The chorus was different—powerful, resonant. So I figured that they must be wolves instead.

I sat by the fire eating my supper as I listened intently to the haunting symphony of the calls echoing through the trees, their voices weaving a tapestry of wildness that resonated deep within me. It was as if they were serenading the night, their howls rising in a crescendo that filled the silence. Instead of fear, a rush of exhilaration coursed through me. In that moment, I was not just a spectator but a participant in the raw beauty of the world around me. I whispered a prayer of thanks to God for this opportunity to be here in this place, in this moment; experiencing something that not everyone gets to experience. 

A few things ran through my thoughts. I wondered what the other campers were thinking right about now. There weren't very many of us out here at this time of year. There were a couple people on 78 and a couple people much closer to them somewhere around site 65 or 60ish. Were they afraid? It was only about 8pm so they probably weren't asleep yet. They must hear them. But no one seemed to panic or be concerned at all. 

I was also thinking that the deer carcass I found earlier today makes a lot of sense now. And it also made sense that they would be here because the rabbit population was plentiful. But still, wolves do normally come this close to people. So that confused me.  It was that thought that made me hesitate a bit when it was time to go to the comfort station about an hour later. ​

The fire was almost out and I hadn't heard any howling in about an hour. It is too high up on the bluff to hear the waves of Lake Huron, but the crickets were chirping a beautiful song. I quietly made my way to the comfort station and back without incident.

I had just got back to camp and was dousing the last of the embers with water. The fire crackled softly as I doused the last of the embers, the remaining warmth from the coals mingling with the cool night air. Just moments ago, I had convinced myself that they had moved on, perhaps retreating to a safer distance. But they weren't off in the distance like I thought they would be by now. All of a sudden I heard them start up their chorus of howling once more. An unsettling realization washed over me. The howling was coming from the exact same spot that I had heard them from originally.  This means that I had walked much closer to them on the way to the comfort station without even knowing.  It struck me that they had to have been watching me from the dark, silently measuring my movements. 

I shook off the uneasy feeling. If they had intended harm it would have been a problem long before now. 
I didn't her them again for the rest of the night. That was partly because about a half hour later, thunderstorms started to roll in.  I lay in my sleeping bag listening to the storms and thinking about the day. I had found some rabbits, some lean-tos, some bones, a dead goose, and heard a group of wolves near by. 
These unexpected finds had transformed my day into an adventure, reminding me that sometimes the best experiences lie off the beaten path.

There were multiple thunder storms all night long. Where I live, we usually only have one. It lasts for about  a half an hour and then it is done and it just rains for the rest of the night.  Not here. I learned that by the shores of Lake Huron, it can be thunder storm after thunderstorm; back to back. At 9 am I was in my tent listening to the second storm of the morning since 8 am. There were at least 4 or  5 storms during the night. The tent was holding up pretty good in the rain though. 

I looked at the weather forecast. Rain for the next 2 days for both here and Pinery Provincial Park (which is where I was headed to next). Looks like I will be tearing down and setting up in the rain. I hoped that I could at least find a lull in the rain at some point. 

I can't be at Pinery Provincial Park until 2 pm and it is only one hour away. So I had had to find things to do for a few hours . I made breakfast and took down the tents in between down pours but everything was still soaking wet when I packed it up. 

I found a little Isabella Moth caterpillar (otherwise known s a Wooly Bear) trying to find shelter from the rain. I remembered that it is thought that the harshness of the upcoming winter can be predicted by the stripes on the back of the Wooly Bear. 

According to this Wooly Bear we are in for a harsh beginning to winter but it will end mild. I will have to keep an eye on that this winter and see if there is any truth to this. 

A sign posted in the comfort station told me that we could now get seasonal Day-Use permits for unlimited entry to all Ontario Parks. This could be a great idea for a birthday present for someone. 

The sign also reminded me that I wanted to go to the park store to get duct tape to fix my dining tent. So I headed over there. 

At the Park Office (which is also the park store) I struck up a conversation with the girl at the desk. I told her about the wolves I had heard last night and that I was surprised at ho close they were. At first she just said. "That is interesting" and she was deep in thought for a moment. Then I went on to explain how at first I had thought they were foxes but changed my mind and why. 

What she said next was a big aha moment for me. She said " Could they have been coyotes?" And I stood there for a second while it registered. "Yes! Yes! You are so right!  Now it all fits! It had to have been coyotes and not foxes or wolves!".

Coyotes yip like foxes do, they howl like wolves do, they are known to gather in packs, and they are much more likely to come closer to humans.  All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  The predators of Point Farms were coyotes! 

With that nugget of new information, I thanked her and happily got in my car to drive in the rain to the next provincial park on my itinerary. I was on my way to Pinery Provincial Park.