For more than 80 years, Bruce Davidson has been appreciating and caring for the natural environment of Snug Island and Carling Township. A clear set of principles drives his committed stewardship: protect habitat, avoid unnecessary disturbance, and leave every place better than it was found. He keeps Snug Island’s 40 acres of forest as close to their natural state as possible, preserving dead trees for wildlife, removing invasive plants, cleaning up litter, dismantling illegal fire pits and inukshuks, and even adding pea gravel to support bass nesting sites.
Beyond Snug Island, Bruce has contributed to the wider community for decades, serving on the West Carling Association (WCA) board for 25 years. As a director, Bruce successfully advocated to the Coast Guard for the removal of hazardous waste from the Snug Lighthouse. In addition, he partnered with Glenda Clayton of the former Eastern Georgian Bay Stewardship Council to build and monitor fox snake nest protection cages. He carried out biweekly water sampling and, most recently, helped Georgian Bay Forever map invasive phragmites in the Carling area. Bruce has contributed regularly to the WCA newsletter, writing articles on the impacts of water levels on fish habitat, geological history, forest succession, and Georgian Bay’s changing landscape.
It’s hard to pick just one story to tell about Bruce, but his enduring love for Franklin Island has always been a constant. Bruce Davidson’s connection to the Island is rooted lifelong memories, and a sense of stewardship.
Can you describe Franklin Island for those who aren’t familiar?
Sheltered Bay on Franklin Island – photo by Tom Betts
Absolutely. It was and is a very special place. Franklin Island is a 2,200-acre island located just northwest of Snug Harbour. In 1921, it came very close to becoming a provincial park, and the initiative received a first reading in Queen’s Park. It was to be preserved as the “Crown Jewel of Georgian Bay” for its pristine flora and abundant wildlife. Unfortunately, the government changed, the (Second World) War started, and the initiative was sidelined.
Fast forward to the 1950s when I was a young kid: I would canoe in the spring with my buddy in Franklin’s bays and inner lakes, and we would watch the fish spawn. We saw them in absolute multitude because at that time, Franklin Island was protected. There was a fishing ban within about a quarter of a mile from the shore. It was teeming with fish, and it was just wonderful.
I guess you can’t have that forever, and with the passage of time and completion of Highway 400, each summer the number of people visiting is in the thousands. On any given weekend, there are probably 500 to 1,000 people camping on Franklin in various locations. A lot of people use the island because it is free. I don’t care for that kind of intensity of use, but what can you do? I kayak over frequently just to be there. I still go to some of the back bays where I remember seeing all these gar pike.
Can you tell me about the Franklin Island Challenge?
I have to go back about 30 years. White Squall, the kayaking centre in Carling, had started bringing people to Snug Harbour and Franklin Island. They quickly recognized existing issues with trash and human waste and decided to organize a cleanup. Starting every fall, this effort incurred costs, prompting them to seek a charitable donation from the West Carling Association for a charitable donation. I was the
WCA president at that time and I thought it was a wonderful idea. Our donations covered the purchase of thunder boxes (camp toilets). So, for a number of years, WCA supplied the materials, while White Squall provided the labour to build and install the thunder boxes.
How did it become the Challenge?
Tim Dyer, the owner of White Squall, came up with a brilliant idea of kayaking, canoeing, paddleboarding, you name it, around Franklin Island as an annual fundraiser. Since then, the Franklin Island Challenge has been able to self-fund the now-called Outer Islands Project. This project continues to manage numerous campsites on Franklin Island and nearby areas.
Did you ever participate in the Challenge?
Yes! I joined in a few years ago and rowed an old lapstrake rowboat from 1921, so it was as heavy as lead. I couldn’t hardly lift it as it has to get waterlogged to be water resistant. With all the water inside, it was like the Queen Mary, but it was fun!
Do you have any current projects related to Franklin Island?
Cunningham Bay on Franklin Island – photo by Tom Betts
I am trying to get an osprey nest site organized. I have identified a couple of locations: one is on the southwest corner of Franklin Island on a small adjacent island. You don’t want a lot of people around, so you’ve got to pick a rocky location, one hostile to boats, so you can’t easily pull a boat up onto it. It also needs good fish habitat nearby, because osprey are 100 percent fish eaters. Old telephone poles are great for holding the platform. The ospreys like height, so you want to put a platform no less than 20 ft above ground. My friend Peter Pook has designed the structure so it’s all ready to go; we just haven’t quite made it happen yet. We would love any extra hands if anyone is interested.
What inspired your passion for the Georgian Bay?
A Northwest Gale on Franklin Island – photo by Tom Betts
I owe my enthusiasm for the Bay to my mother. She came as an eight-year-old girl, and I don’t know that she ever missed a summer from 1923 to 2008. A time of lasting inspiration for me came when she was 93 years old and in very poor health with oxygen and 24-hour nursing care. I visited her at her home in Windsor in February and said, “Mom, you really ought not to go up to the cottage this year, you’ve got all the comforts here and the medical care you need, we can’t get you off the island in an emergency, it would be too risky.” She said, “Son, if I don’t get up there, I’ll die.” And so, she came up, and she had a wonderful summer, and then in early August, she died in the place she wanted to be. So that’s the love of the Bay that my mother passed on to me.
What does Franklin Island mean to you?
Well, there’s nothing more special to me than Franklin Island. It holds great memories for me as a teenager. I used to know all of the passages like the back of my hand, places you couldn’t get to unless you portaged. My biggest fear, of course, is a fire. If an uncontrolled burn ever swept the island, it would be absolutely horrendous, so I’m totally focused on preventing that. Franklin Island is everything to me.