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An Interspecies Conversation

An Interspecies Conversation

Helliwell Park, low tide, no wind, and a warm winter sun. Just a few feet from the high water mark, Edwin, a huge brown headed eagle with great yellow talons clutches to the head a dead seal.  Edwin is magnificent. With masterful confidence he rips strips of flesh and makes a show of swallowing an eyeball whole. Other eyes are watching Edwin. Most belong to an unkindness of ravens led by Ravi, a wise old fowl of almost fifty summers. The unkindness is comprised of old Ravi and his proteges … they hover, flap and fidget nearby on the slippery tidal rocks within a 30 foot radius of Edwin. Also watching is an old man and his old dog. They are in a partial blind on a low bank about 50 feet away. After 20 minutes of non-threatening behaviour the avian actors allow them to remain as spectators with balcony seats in an outdoor amphitheatre.

Another 10 minutes pass … then Ravi lands centre stage beside the seal just outside Edwins reach and the lesson begins. Ravi struts back and forth in front of Edwin as if on a nonchalant Sunday stroll. Ravi doesnt look at Edwin or the dead seal directly but continues to express respectful interest in Edwins prize. Occasionally from a standing position Edwin takes a swipe at Ravi but Ravi instantly responds jumping back only those inches necessary and continues non-aggressive, respectful posturing. As Ravi loiters he takes only fleeting glances at the seal. Ravi continues this dance for about 15 minutes, never looking Edwin directly in the eye and soon Edwin stops swiping at Ravi. 

Suddenly Edwin stands tall, turns seaward, and with one great flap hops to a rock 30 feet away where he remains looking out to sea. Edwin doesnt look directly as Ravi and his unkindness descend into the gore. For 15 minutes Edwin allows them access but remains aware of the proceedings with occasional glances from the corner of his eye. Then Edwin  turns and with one great hop lands back on top of the seal as if to say… OK, youve had your feed, times up!  Instantly responsive, the unkindness leaps into the air and departs.

The old man leaves the scene with his dog overwhelmed with gratitude for the generosity of his avian relations for allowing their conversation to be witnessed. 

Edwin is left to resume his business.

The Islands Grapevine

Upon receipt of submissions from Stephen Malthouse, The Islands Grapevine denied their publication, (but offered to publish revised versions), because their content included counter-factual claims, and derision of a Denman “decolonization” community group, These elements violated TIG’s editorial policy. Here’s Malthouse’s reply to us, followed by our response.

_____________________

Hello Keith, Thank you for your reply. It is really not worth debating these topics with you, but I do have a few comments. Firstly, I am aware of DRIPA, UNDRIP, court decisions in BC and section 235 of the Constitution Act, so you are presumptuous to be lecturing me. 

Secondly, there was no intent to insult any group on the island, but people must be responsible for what they insert into the paper. If it is woke nonsense about us learning to accept our place as guilty colonizers, then there is reason to challenge it. Usually those that want to eat the rich, don’t own anything themselves. It is easy for them to think reconciliation is simply giving everything back. If their feelings are hurt because someone contradicts them, that cannot be avoided. 

Thirdly, the editor(s) of the Grapevine seems to have lost their enthusiasm for publishing dissenting views, but have no shortage of justification for this change. I suspect this lack of editorial gumption is why we have a 2-page children’s’ story every week and long articles about nothing in particular to fill up the space. 

The people that were previously offended because the Grapevine censorship was not to their liking are now publishing the Barnacle, while the rest of us have had our submissions repeatedly rejected and are reluctant to engage with you. One by one, I have seen writers excluded, and now we are left with little of substance and local relevance. Of course, there are still the weekly stoner cartoons, which may be of interest to somebody, somewhere. 

The Grapevine, which I once looked forward to reading, now seems to have been politically correct-ed to death. Or is it just your tastes and opinions that are driving the editorial policy now? It is unfortunate that the paper, which served the island so well previously, is now almost moribund. It has lost its place as the townhall of the islands, where opinions could once be shared without fear of ruffling someone’s feathers and causing them to faint. 

Stephen Malthouse, MD

________________________

Stephen, We can agree that there’s no point in debating this. Mike and I predicted several elements of your reply, including your insult to his intelligence, echoing your sycophantic acolytes, when we enforce an editorial policy that existed prior to me joining the paper as an editor. The current and corrupt advertising boycott by tax funded agencies is mostly caused by TIG carrying water for you and your aforementioned devotees.. 

Publisher Mike is also TIG’s editor, whatever you predictably think, and he makes all final editorial decisions. Thankfully, after navigating waters that nearly destroyed its economic viability, TIG is healthier and growing. Unlike the College of Physicians successfully undermining your practice, the censorious virtue-signallers have failed to put TIG out of business, and we will continue to proudly stand behind our editorial decisions.

No writer has been excluded, ever. Not one. There are 4 contributors who have refused any editorial feedback from the publisher and editor, and they have withdrawn on their own account. The paper is better off for it, while TIG continues to flourish. As a man whose views were too radioactive for even the B.C. Conservatives to stomach, you have only confirmed what we guessed your response might be. Bravo! 

TIG continues to take heat for publishing dissenting views, particularly our weekly column by Caitlin Johnstone, but also a few others. In your case, and the case of your sycophantic acolytes, you all have the opportunity to be heard in our weekly paper, as long as you have a willingness to respect TIG’s boundaries and feedback, set by Mike, and printed in the paper each week. You could also do your own mailings.

And guilty as charged, for continuing to publish “stoner cartoons”, dad jokes, a crossword, and the tide table. Who ever heard of a newspaper that does? You deny your “intent” was to insult, then proceed to confirm your insulting views, a predictably teaching moment for irony, claiming “people need to be responsible for what they put in the paper.” On this we agree, and it includes you, with your reactionary nonsense.

The Islands Grapevine is also Mike’s livelihood, and most islanders are grateful for it, while we have expanded our circulation, advertising base, and web presence, despite the efforts of those whose behaviour you mirror, but reflected in some kind of Jungian funhouse, and where all conflict is about control. The Barnacle is free to lose thousands of dollars in a vanity press, as you are free to do as well. We refuse.

As you know, the Covidiots are those who have sought to silence dissent, while TIG has not changed its editorial policy or its taste. Our criteria for what to publish is unrelated to whom we agree with, and we have more than enough content submitted each week to “fill space.”. If the “town hall” seems less diverse, it is because of the chilling effect created by both you and the Covidiots, who choose to withdraw. So be it.

Please pass on our gratitude to Thomas and Peri, and Max and Helen, and the rest of your culturally amusing all-star team. We have a paper to run, and no good deed goes unpunished!

Keith Porteous, Associate Editor

Our Rulers Are Psychopaths And They’re Making Everything Awful

Our Rulers Are Psychopaths And They’re Making Everything Awful

I don’t know what to say today. We are ruled by abusive monsters.

The US is preparing for war with Iran.

They’re going in for the kill shot on Cuba.

The latest batch of Epstein emails looks horrifying.

The US is full of protests because ICE keeps killing people.

Israel is still massacring civilians in Gaza as Australia prepares to host its president for an extended visit.

Reuters has confirmed that Biden officials actively obstructed the circulation of internal USAID reports that Gaza was being turned into a nightmarish hellscape in early 2024.

There’s so much cruelty. So much abuse.

You’d think all this evidence that we are ruled by deranged psychopaths would unite us against them, but it doesn’t. The population is more angrily, bitterly divided against itself than ever.

Political discourse has gotten as intensely vitriolic as I’ve ever seen it as Trump supporters take their stand behind the current abuser-in-chief and defend the status quo warmongering and tyranny with all their might. Discussing politics on social media feels like stepping into an emotional blast furnace these days.

They’ve done such a good job dividing us and conquering us. It’s really incredible how good at it they are. It would be awe-inspiring if it wasn’t so evil and destructive.

I haven’t felt like I’m in the zeitgeist recently. Usually I feel like I’m surfing the crest of dissident political consciousness and can provide insight and information into what’s coming up for us as a collective, but everything’s been so chaotic and frenzied lately it’s like trying to ride a bucking bull. I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone but me, but that’s what it feels like.

I don’t really have anything to add to that right now. I try to write something every day, but today all I’ve got is a feeble “There’s so much cruelty, and it hurts.”

It fucking hurts, man.

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Feature image via Wikimedia Commons/The White House (public domain).

Monster Hunters ch.6

Monster Hunters ch.6

by Quinn Ireland

The training room was full of all sorts of new, elite equipment. There were weights and bench presses along with countless treadmills leaning up against one side of the room. “C’mon over class!” shouted a teacher from the opposite side of the room from Ben. “Now… welcome everyone!” he said. A few people mumbled some sort of greeting but it remained relatively quiet. This teacher looked very fit. This was not surprising to Ben, being that he was a workout teacher. He had short, black hair with short sideburns. He was wearing a workout tank-top and shorts with running shoes. “Please get into your groups from last Friday,” he said. Someone then raised their hand. It was Kepler.  “Umm… Mr. Lea?” she asked, “You forgot about Ben.” “Ohh… I’m sorry Ben, Please partner up with another group of two.”  Mr. Lea instructed. Ben chose Johnny and Kepler. Ben followed them to the corner with the weights. Johnny picked up a weight, he held it out in front of him with a straight arm. “What’s this class for?” asked Ben. “Moster Hunters need strength,” explained Kepler, “Without it, we couldn’t really fight monsters when we’re older.” Johnny still kept the weight in front of him. Ben found himself looking at Johnny’s arm. He had huge biceps and muscles. Kepler had the same. “How often do you work out in here?” asked Ben. “Every day… we have these same classes every day,” answered Kepler. “Defense, protection against evil, then dangerous forests, then workout hour, then…” she stopped. “You haven’t gone to magic plants or S.P.P yet.” “What’s S.P.P?” asked Ben. “Special Power Practice,” answered Johnny. Ben didn’t wanted to ask if he had a special power but Kepler cut him off: “With these five classes, you will be able to become a fully certified Monster Hunter!” Maybe Ben did belong here. All he needed was support, a lot of it. Just then, Johnny put his arm down. “Yesssss! Two minutes.” he said happily. Kepler now tried to lift one on her own. “Try to beat me!” said Johnny. “You’re record’s going to get destroyed!” replied Kepler. She held it out in front of her for exactly the same time as Johnny. “A tie!” said Johnny. They slapped their hands together in a high-five. “Give it a go Ben,” said Kepler handing him a twenty pound weight. Ben took it reluctantly. He knew that he had to take part in the class. Ben was surprised that he ended up holding it out for a full minute. “Woah, Nobody does a minute on their first try,” exclaimed Johnny. “Try this one.” Johnny handed him a small tiny weight. “Are you kidding?” said Ben, “I could hold this one for an hour!” As soon as Ben took the weight from Johnny’s hand, he dropped it. Johnny laughed, “That, is a heavy-small weight, a seventy- pounder too.” “But how can it be that heavy if it’s so small?” asked Ben. “Magic!” was all Johnny answered. Ben thought about this for a moment, then it came to him. Ever since he had entered this world, it had all been shock. He never really thought that this whole world was magic. He could be here. He had friends. He had support. He had education. But there was one thing that he didn’t have. “Will I get to see my parents at all during the school year?” “Of course, there’s a long one month break halfway into the school year,” replied Kepler. The loud bell chimed across the school grounds. Johnny grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him out of the classroom. “Magic plants starts now,” he said. The three of them walked down a stone path. Ben now got a good look at the school. It looked like an ancient castle. There were stone holes in the walls and flags at the top of the building bearing the letters M.H on it. “Here’s where you’re going to stay,” said Kepler. Ben found himself looking at a gigantic network of treehouses, The huge trees were overlooking a swamp. Ben usually hated swamps, but this one looked magical. Twisted vines and some sort of strange plant lined trees, the water looked clean and pure. There was also what looked like the edge of a huge dark forest. “Do we live in these houses alone?” asked Ben. “No, we asked Headmaster Bwicket, and you are staying with us!” said Kepler happily. Ben felt relieved. He was never a fan of being alone. By the way,” Kepler spoke, “We call them tree homes. They are all designed the same, cozy and homey.” Ben took one last look at the tree-homes, his home on the school grounds as they disappeared behind the giant trees of the forest. Soon, they came to the entrance to the forest. Ben realized that he was looking at two trees that were perfectly the same height, and width. They were rough and sappy, with lots of holes for the homes of Owls. Roots curved in and out of the thick, dark soil. Some long, and some short. They all looked like the veins on a Giant’s arm. “The Twin Trees,” said Johnny smiling, “Follow me.” Johnny stepped through the trees. Kepler followed with Ben taking up the rear. They were plunged into darkness. The only light that Ben could see was coming from lanterns on the wall. Ben found himself walking down a steep stone staircase with old ancient carvings of demons and monster hunters in battle. After three minutes of  descending, the trio entered a lush green cave with soft light glowing around the cavernous walls. The cave was lined with mushrooms and vines with all of the rocks completely covered in moss. To one side of the cave, there was a large natural hole in the wall, a waterfall fell through it leading to a lake that bathed the cave with a misty green light. The water looked like the cleanest, purest water that Ben had ever seen. It had a greenish-blue tint to it that made it look like a liquid jewel. Kepler walked over to a corner of the cave. A wood shelf stood by the wall. Each of the twelve shelfs had bright red suits all neatly folded. “Cold-proof suits,” said Johnny noticing Ben’s confusion, “They can keep you warm in any form of coldness. “Put it on,” said Kepler. “But… where do I change?” Ben wondered out loud. “Just put it on over your clothes.” replied Johnny. Ben slipped on the suit, He then followed Johnny and Kepler to the edge of the lake. They waded out into the deep. Ben expected there to be some sort of cold to his skin, but felt no different then just moments before. Ben was an average swimmer, so it wasn’t long before he had rolled into a smooth backstroke. The ceiling was covered with the same ancient stone carvings as the staircase along with the greenery and moss. They swam for a long eight minutes before Ben noticed something floating in the water. It was too late. Ben swam right into a something hard and wood. “Ow!” said Ben, “What is that?” Johnny and Kepler looked at each other with a worried expression. Ben watched as a wood box floated back into the darkness. “It’s my fault,” said Johnny to Kepler, “I forgot the water proof headlamps, good thing he only touched the wood.” To Ben, this all didn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?” asked Ben. Kepler paused before saying, “We’ll tell you once we get to the Demons exit.” Ben noticed more lanterns up ahead that were casting a eerie glow around a steep stair- case that was leading up to above ground. Moments later, they were clambering up onto a stone ledge. Water dripped from Ben’s baggy suit. As the droplets hit the water, bubbles plunged into the murky lake. they then came to the surface, stayed there for a moment, before popping and creating small circular ripples. “Wow, all this work just to get to one class!” said Ben breathing heavily. “The classroom is located in the forest, this is the only way to get to the whispering forest.” replied Johnny. Ben started to take off his cold-proof suit. “Don’t!” exclaimed Johnny, “Those are our uniforms for magic plants!” He pointed at Ben’s chest. There was a gold name tag that read: VINKENHUT in bold letters. “We have to wear these crazy outfits all class?” “Relax,” chuckled Kepler, “It’s only one of six classes where you don’t wear your normal uniforms.” “Will you tell me about that creepy wood box now?” asked Ben as they started up the stairs. “First you have to learn the names of everything in this cave.” said Kepler. Ben nodded. Kepler continued, “Those two trees are the Twin Trees, the first stairway underground is called the Ancient Pass, the lake is known as the Lake Of Souls, the waterfall that leads to the lake is called Devils Mouth, and finally the stairway that we’re on right now is the Demons Exit” “Why do I need to know all this?” Ben wondered aloud. “This cave is a huge part of our history,” was all that she replied with. So-far to Ben, the Monster Hunter world was exactly like some sort of fantasy story that he would read. It felt like a dream, although it wasn’t. His best friend was here. “Now,” said Johnny, “Eighteen years ago after Tyborwink claimed the horror forest, he cursed the headmaster at the time, Headmaster Mogel.” Johnnys voice echoed through the thick stone walls. Ben pondered this before answering; “Why didn’t the teachers stop him?” “They did everything they could, but they couldn’t fight with their eyes closed. Tyborwink ended up getting away and came down to this very cave and floated Headmaster Mogel’s body in the Lake Of Souls.” So… that wood box was a cursed dead person’s body?” asked Ben in shock. Johnny and Kepler slowly nodded their heads. “His body floats up and down the lake very slowly, ALWAYS,” said Johnny adding emphases on the last word. “That was lucky, only your head touched it,” added Kepler, “Or you would have been cursed.” “That’s why I was mad that I forgot the headlamps,” said Johnny, “We couldn’t see without them.” This was all starting to lead to one thing in Ben’s mind, this Tyborwink guy didn’t sound very nice.  

Fog on the Water

[facebook.com/markprior.images]

Cobby Lit

#1720

2026 Denman Island Phone Directory

2026 Denman Island Phone Directory

Production of the 2026 Denman Phone Directory is now underway. 

Are you new to the Island or recently moved? Please submit changes and new listings to denmanislanddirectory@gmail.com (preferred), or leave a message at 250-335-1483 by Monday, March 16.  We rely on your feedback to keep the Directory accurate and up-to-date – if you spot any errors or omissions, please let us know!

The Denman Phone Directory is the go-to resource for island goods and services, and ad rates represent excellent value for money! New advertisers and business listings are always welcome.

This project is a fundraiser for Arts Denman, and proceeds benefit a wide range of arts programming on the Island.

Denman Island Free Store News

The Denman Island Freestore (aka the Reusable Store):

Hours: Thursday 3 -5 and Saturday 9 -12:30

Location: Old School basement 

Thank you to all volunteers for their time and energy and community members who donated beautiful things which provide a boost to people’s lives.

That spirit has kept the freestore open for over 30 years. 

Regarding your donations, there are very few basic considerations which will help everyone:

1. Always wash and fold clothing, 

2. Never donate damaged material, 

3. Never leave articles outside if the freestore is closed.

The freestore is completely run by volunteers and there is a need for more helping hands. 

It is overwhelmingly how many bags and boxes are donated every week. It is just as amazing how much goes directly into the garbage or delivered to charities in town.

Please consider volunteering at the freestore in 2026. We need your help, sorting clothes, unpacking books, displaying things, cleaning up, etcetera. 

To volunteer, show anytime the freestore is open and you will be trained and assigned a task.

 

Andrew Pringle

Hey Let’s Go Sing

Hey Let’s Go Sing   by Kathy Rieder

Community Choir Starting Thursday Feb 5 2:30pm

Now it is time to get back to singing together.  We welcome all and any of you to join us. You are welcome to come for 2 weeks before you pay your choir fee, just to check us out.  I find choir meets so many needs. It is something to look forward to every week, it keeps me connected to the community and I meet and appreciate people I would never know otherwise.

We are very fortunate to have a wonderful choir director here on Denman.  Bethany Ireland is a UVic Music graduate, a great pianist and an inspired choir director. She brings youthful enthusiasm to every session and she is never critical.

We meet at the Community Hall in the Back Hall.  We sing 4 part harmony, and all voices are welcome.  You do not have to read music to sing with us. If you would like more info, call Kathy Rieder 250 335 0559 or kathyrieder@telus.net. Cost is sliding scale $120.00 to $160.00 for 12 sessions and a concert. Arts Denman members (membership $10) are eligible for a grant of $150.00 per year for musical education.