Messing about with stone at Kinross Creek

To my surprise, Kinross Creek is still burbling on a visit in late June, 2023. I had suspected that this little creek, which carried away the spring run-off from a melting snowpack, would be dry by now. On the other hand, we’ve had a few periods of heavy rain lately.

The creek drains a mostly forested watershed north of Minden, Ontario, next to a hydro corridor and abandoned farm. It’s a green and peaceful place.

My goal today is to build a little “check dam” using about 50 stones I gathered on previous visits to the creek. These stone features are used particularly in arid climates to “check” or delay the flow of water in a creek or river.

Arid areas in places like India or Arizona sometimes get heavy rains, so a series of check dams can preserve some of the water before it runs off. The word “dam” is somewhat misleading, as these features delay water flow but do not stop it entirely like some dams.

Minden is not an arid place, although we’ve had spells of drought in summer. But I like messing about with stones. So thought I would try building a few check dams on my favourite little creek back in the bush.

Kinross Creek already features some small ponds created by deadfalls of trees, so my plan is to enhance those pond features by adding some local stone. There’s no shortage of stone in these parts: the first farmers spent a lot of time clearing stone and placing it in piles and rows so they could grow crops and pasture cattle.

Building a tiny dam — check!

One design I came across is called the “one-rock dam.” Another misleading title. The dam is in fact one-rock high, but built out of many rocks. And again, it’s not a dam, but more of a stone feature that checks the flow a bit as the water runs through it. The check dam also blends in with nature by following the contours of the existing creek bed.

The first step is to place a few slim, flat stones in the centre of the creek. These will act as a splash pad, as most of the flow will be directed over them. Then I use progressively thicker stones to build out the one-rock dam upriver and to the sides of the creek. Finally, I use small stones to fill gaps in the bigger stones. I’m following methods of some folks from different parts of the world who have shared their one-rock-dam methods on YouTube, often under the permaculture theme.

I find myself placing stones with one hand and swatting away mosquitoes with the other. Above, a big crow is commenting on my work with his rough cry.

A crow commentary

Last time I was here in May, the forest was filled with birdsong. Today, there is just one black American Crow, high in the trees. Is he mocking me? Perhaps all the songbirds I heard before are napping now, or were just stopping here before on their migration north.

The creek seems to appreciate my efforts. The water gathers and flows through the centre of the stone feature, dancing around the stones along the way.

My next goal is to build a slightly bigger version of this check dam just downstream. If I get it right, this will create a small pond, with an overflow.

There are many deer in these parts, especially in winter. When snow was still on the ground in April, I saw their countless trails crisscrossing in the woods. So given there are rarely humans here, perhaps the deer will appreciate my pond. Maybe they’ll stop here to have a cool drink.

I’ll be back next month. If the creek has dried up by then, all the better for building the next little check dam at Kinross Creek.

Wild leeks and birdsong

Kinross Creek, the little seasonal stream I found high up a hill north of Minden, is still running strong in Mid-May. I’m on a mission to pick up some wild leeks here for supper.

At the top of the hill on the hydro corridor, huffing and puffing from the short but steep hike, I ditch my fleece and jacket. The sun is out — it’s T-shirt weather. I pause and look back down at the green fields of a nearby farm. A blue tractor chugs in straight lines, spreading manure to enrich the crops. An old draft horse munches his way through the fresh shoots of grass. I will take a pic of him when I get back down.

The tall hardwood forests are filled with birdsong. Last time I was here, I recognized one or two calls, like the feisty screech of a red-winged blackbird. Today there is a richer chorus as many more birds have completed their spring migration north.

The birds are back

To fill in the gaps, I pull out my cell phone with its Merlin app. Cornell University created this app to identify birds by their song. Within 46 seconds, it picks up eight different species: the Great Crested Flycatcher, Ovenbird, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Scarlet Tanager, American Redstart, and three different types of Warblers: Black-and-White, Nashville, and Chestnut-sided.

Amazing! I can’t see any of these birds, and recognize only one of the species identified, but they are with me, singing out in the forest canopy.

In the clearing along the hydro line, I do spot a lone turkey vulture, floating clockwise on a thermal, looking for his next meal. The feather tips at the end of his enormous wingspan look like fingers. I hope it’s not me he has in his sights.

I tramp down to the small valley that feeds the creek. My plan is to visit this creek throughout the year to track its lifecycle and the natural world around it.

Catching the sun

Today, my mission is simple. I’m after the tiny, tasty wild leeks of Minden Hills. Before the trees come into full leaf, these tiny greens spring up and catch the energy of the sun. In this area, they grow in clumps of hundreds. In some spots, they carpet the forest floor in the thousands.

After tracking downstream maybe 50 yards, I find the first clump of leeks, kneel down, and carefully dig up a few with a garden trowel. I knock off the dirt to see the purple and white stems below tender greens.

The entire plant is edible. These will go nicely fried with mushrooms, atop the mini-pizzas Nadine is planning for dinner. I put them and my garden trowel into a small bag.

A peaceful spot

This is a peaceful spot with the little creek still burbling. I’ve been gathering a few stones to improve a small pond along the watercourse. The first trillium blooms against a fallen log.

But today I’ve noticed that blackfly season has begun. The little critters are going after my ears and neck.

Mission accomplished, I pick up my jacket and start the hike back down the hill, leeks in hand.