Essentialism

Chatting with my dad on the phone, trying to think of some good news to share, I mention that the swallows have come back. “Back to Capistrano?” he asks. As is often the case with his literary or musical allusions, I have no idea what he’s talking about. He sings a few bars, but it doesn’t ring any bells with me, so I have to look it up.

“When the Swallows Come Back to Capistrano” was written by Leon René in 1939, and it became one of those iconic Second World War-era ballads about the hope of being reunited with one’s beloved – kind of like “We’ll Meet Again,” which was recorded by Vera Lynn the same year, and which unexpectedly surged in popularity again this spring when Queen Elizabeth referenced it in her public address about the COVID-19 pandemic.

“Capistrano” was a hit for The Ink Spots, and later for Glenn Miller. René had been inspired by the annual return of Cliff swallows to Mission San Juan Capistrano in Orange County, California. Maybe he was a bird lover. Some years later, he wrote “Rockin’ Robin,” which really channels springtime exuberance: “Every little swallow, every chickadee / Every little bird in the tall oak tree / The wise old owl, the big black crow / Flappin’ their wings singing go bird go.” It’s sort of a rock ’n’ roll take on “When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin’ Along),” which dates back to the 1920s, though it resurfaced repeatedly in subsequent decades.

This time of year brings out the ornithologist in all of us. “Spring starts when a heartbeat’s pounding,” sang Gord Downie, in “Poets,” from 1998. “When the birds can be heard above the reckoning carts doing some final accounting.” That one’s got a wicked groove, but the surreal lyrics might not be to everyone’s taste. For straightforward emotional uplift, stick with “Rockin’ Robin.” The original version, which was a hit for Bobby Day in 1958, features a righteous piccolo solo by Plas Johnson. In 1972 it was recorded by a 14-year-old Michael Jackson, with the solo going to his brother Tito on guitar. If that song doesn’t make you smile, you are in a pretty dark place. All I can say, with certainty, is that you are not alone.

For what it’s worth, the birds are back. Ours are not Cliff swallows, but the more colourful Tree swallows. The Barn swallows, like the bats, have abandoned us – but perhaps we’ll meet again. We should do whatever we can for aerial insectivores. Apart from providing incalculable “ecological services,” they inspire wonder, and hope. These things are essential – a word we’re hearing a lot lately, presenting an opportunity to reflect on human needs and entitlements.

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In this issue of Rural Delivery, we have informative and engaging stories about honeybees, agricultural soils, and even bats – topics that remain as relevant today as they were before the pandemic – along with an extra-large helping of great recipes in our “Household Notes” section, because home cooking is more relevant than ever.

But before we get to that – bear with me – a few words must be said about our current situation. If you have received this magazine in your mailbox, that’s a testament to perseverance and cooperation among a whole lot of people who helped to make it happen. Economists, taking a mechanistic view of things, would say that all these people are links in a “supply chain” – ending with the finished product being delivered by Canada Post employees who, along with all the rest, have taken various special precautions to get the job done without spreading disease.

When the severity of this virus became apparent back in March, all of us were worried. We were worried about the most vulnerable members of our communities, of course, but we were also concerned about the implications for this little publishing company, and our ability to continue serving our readers. It was clear that the necessary measures to address this public health crisis, to minimize human suffering, would have major economic consequences. We would have to make some changes, but we were determined to carry on.

One thing we realized, pretty quickly, is that finding a magazine in the mailbox is particularly awesome when your social interactions have been severely curtailed for weeks on end. The current crisis has actually heightened people’s interest in some of Rural Delivery’s chief concerns: farming, food security, self-sufficiency, sustainability, and natural history. We have been receiving a steady stream of calls with renewals or new subscriptions. And yes, a real person in our office still answers the phone, or replies to after-hours messages. (Thanks, Katie and Angie!)

We are grateful for the support from readers; our commitment to them is something we take very seriously. However, we couldn’t do it without our advertisers – the companies, large and small, that buy space in this magazine to promote their products and services. Some have been forced to cut expenses, due to the economic slowdown, but a considerable number of them have decided to maintain their visibility – to continue communicating with their customer base, through our publication. So in this issue we have made extra space available for advertisers to provide updates on how they are getting by in these times of constraint and uncertainty.

We also greatly appreciate special efforts made by Advocate, the Nova Scotia company that prints and staples our magazines at its plant in Pictou. We have a great working relationship with the people there. In a recent conversation about the interconnectedness of the business community, they mentioned that we actually have the option of using paper that is made in this province. It might be a little less glossy, but maybe that would be a good fit for RD? We’ve espoused the buy-local principle for more than 40 years, so we figured it’s high time we made the switch.

The manufacturer is Port Hawkesbury Paper (PHP) – the latest incarnation of the old Stora Enso mill. It’s an interesting company, with a new focus on higher-quality branded products instead of commodity paper. The one we’re using, which is called Artisan, is a supercalendared paper. This means that instead of being coated to give it a shiny finish, it is smoothed and polished between huge cylindrical rollers – calendars – that run at high speed, applying pressure, heat, and friction to glaze both surfaces before the paper is cut to standard sizes.

It bears mentioning that PHP has about 300 direct employees, plus some 400 contractors, sourcing timber from private woodlots and from a 523,000-hectare Crown licence area that is managed under certification by the Forest Stewardship Council (which sustainable forestry advocates generally consider the most stringent standard). Most thermomechanical pulp (TMP) mills blend in some kraft pulp, up to about 20 percent, to give their paper strength, but since last August PHP has gone kraft-free – which is considered a feat of engineering. The company requires fresh wood (stump-to-mill within three weeks in summer) to ensure that the long fibres are not broken down in the pulping process. Meanwhile, they’re looking to diversify – investigating land-based aquaculture, and developing a wind farm project comprising 28 four-megawatt turbines at Pirate Harbour in Guysborough County, just across the Strait of Canso.

Optimism? It’s essential. Besides, spring is here. Hats off to all the worker bees. DL