Travel Shore excursions Excitement was palpable as our ship anchored next to Sable Island. But, before we could board Zodiacs to go ashore, our expedition leader gave us strict instructions. “Empty any plant material from your pockets and cuffs. Wash your footwear with brushes in the water troughs at the back of the ship so that you don’t transport seeds and organisms to the island.” Everyone obeyed. Walking on Sable Island is very different from hiking in popular national parks. There are no marked paths. No trail signs. No wooden steps or railings. Tominimize impact on the fragile environment, our group of just over 100 was divided into smaller groups, based on interests and physical abilities. We could choose from short, medium or long tours. All were interesting because the guides discussed Sable Island’s geology, flora, fauna and history as we walked. We selected the two-hour loop hike up to Bald Dune and back. Located in the middle of Sable Island at a height of 28 metres, it’s the highest point. Our feet sunk into the soft sand as we climbed the tawny sand dune. The hike wasn’t difficult, though, because we stopped frequently to observe birds and horses – including a frolicking foal running circles around its grazing mother. The panorama from the top of Bald Dune encompassed North Beach, where we had landed, as well as South Beach, the ridge of rolling, vegetated sand dunes along the length of the island and bands of wild horses grazing on the heath. Although it was very windy, the air was so clean that we savoured each breath. Why is there so much sand on Sable Island? (Even its name, sable, means sand in French.) Our guide explained that the sand was originally deposited by rivers from retreating glaciers. The 42-kilometre island refuses to stay in one place. Currents, waves and wind constantly shift the sand. When we descended to the interior vegetated area, Parks Canada manager Jonathan Sheppard instructed us to stay together. “Walk in a single file on horse paths to minimize your footprints.” He reminded us of the park’s policy of no interference with the horses that were grazing around us. Canada’s Jane Goodall Zoe Lucas, who lives on the island for several months annually, accompanied us and answered our questions about the horses. What Jane Goodall is to chimpanzees, Zoe Lucas is to Sable Island horses. Both have devoted their adult lives to research and both are ardent advocates for the species which they’ve studied. According to Zoe, the population of free-ranging horses is approximately 500, but she has seen numbers fall to as low as 150 after a severe winter. “It’s a struggle for them to survive in winter because the vegetation dies back and it’s of a poorer quality,” she said. Zoe explained that the story about Sable Island horses being shipwreck survivors is a myth. A Bostonminister introduced them to the island in 1737 and 1738. Thomas Hancock (who transported expelled Nova Scotia Acadians to New England colonies) shipped five dozen of their horses to Sable Island in 1760. Between 1801 and the late 1940s, several horses were rounded up for sale in Halifax. In 1960, people who believed that the horses were causing ecological damage to Sable Island created a proposal to harvest the animals for pet food. In response, thousands of children wrote letters to PrimeMinister John Diefenbaker, asking him to save the horses. One letter-writer said: “Instead of sending them to the glue factory, they should be as free as the wind.” In 1961, the Diefenbaker government legally protected Sable Island’s horses under the Canada Shipping Act. Since then, the population has been genetically isolated. When Sable Island National Park Reserve was established, Parks Canada began managing the feral population of horses as a wild species. Because the horses are protected, you can’t touch them, harass them or even provide veterinary care if they are sick. To prevent them from becoming habituated or expecting treats from people, Parks Canada requires visitors to stay at least 20 metres from them. During our visit, the horses were nonchalant, grazing and living their lives as if we were not even there. We occasionally heard them vocalize – mares nickering to their offspring, a solo horse neighing and two males challenging each other with aggressive screams. Zoe Lucas, researcher and resident Walking across the beach runway A family band of wild horses Climbing up Bald Dune CSANews | SPRING 2016 | 17
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