It’s their home, too
At the Ecomuseum, near the western tip of Montreal Island, 115 species of fauna remind us how colourful the St. Lawrence Valley was long before we got here
We urban dwellers are surrounded by brick, concrete, glass and steel. Our city parks are manicured, their perimeters defined by paved roads. We develop. We groom. We dominate. Aside from the occasional sighting of a family of raccoons wandering the neighbourhood at dusk or the whiff of startled skunk on the night air, we have little to no contact with the other species who share our corner of the planet.
The animals, birds and fish who lived in what we now call the St. Lawrence Valley were here long before any of us city dwellers, yet we have lost contact with who they are or what they should mean to us. Out of sight, out of mind.
As our population swells, we continue to encroach on their habitats and their numbers shrink. So what?
If a species disappears, it can knock the food chain out of whack and damage the vulnerable biodiversity our planet relies on to survive.
Might be a good idea to get to know our fauna neighbours a little better. We tend to care more for those we know.
The Ecomuseum, a zoo on the outskirts of Ste. Anne de Bellevue, is home to 115 species, Canada’s largest number of fauna species from the St. Lawrence Valley.
As you wander the paths of the zoo or pause for a closer look from one of the zoo’s lookout platforms, you are touched by the variety and the beauty of these creatures.
During the winter, the bears hibernate and the raccoons and porcupines don’t like the cold, but there are still plenty of other animals and birds to see.
Gray wolves perch atop a snowy hill, silent, wary, analyzing.
Closer scrutiny reveals a pure-white Snowy owl, blending into the winter background. You hear the Turkey vulture’s harsh cry before you see the hulking bird with a face only its mother could love.