Loving The Unloved Critters

By Debbra Mikaelsen

Photo by Philip Solman (Kenn Oldfield and the Snake Fence)

Most people who visit Oliver’s Tinhorn Creek Winery come for the wine. Not me—I have come for the snakes.

It’s true that I hope to see a rattler while I’m here, but more specifically, I’ve come to see a fence. The snakes tend to be unpredictable and are unlikely to keep appointments, but the fence is reliably constant, and the winemakers who built it meet me over coffee (because 9:00am is just too early for wine—even for a writer).

Kenn and Sandra Oldfield of Tinhorn Creek tell me about their fragile ecosystem, the creatures who call it home, and the timid rattler’s undeserved reputation as a troublemaker. We talk about the changing landscape and the developments that are steadily displacing the grassland habitat required to support this wildlife. This is the northern tip of the Sonora Desert, and many of the critters who live here are threatened.

Still, the Great Basin Spadefoot Toad and Northern Pacific Rattlesnake aren’t your typical poster children for wildlife conservation. To many Okanagan residents, the snakes especially are considered a menace, but the Oldfields have a live-and-let-live policy. They’ve installed snake-proof fencing around their property to protect rattlers from encounters with humans—showdowns that invariably end badly for the snake. “A lot of the fear is cultural,” says Kenn. “Some of the vineyard workers come from parts of the world where snakes are deadly poisonous.” Now two of his employees have been trained in snake-relocation, so any who do get past the fence are humanely removed to a refuge area at the property’s edge.

It’s rare for winemakers and wilderness conservationists to find common ground, but The Land Conservancy of BC has recognized Tinhorn Creek Winery as a Conservation Partner for their efforts in protecting and restoring desert habitat. As well as participating in the Snake Pilot Project and building the fence, the Oldfields have replanted indigenous antelope brush and native grasses on the land behind their vineyards. “But I’m not really a treehugger,” Kenn says, smiling and looking down at his Birkenstocks.

Just a stone’s throw away, Burrowing Owl Winery has been named for an owl that borders on extinction. “They don’t actually burrow,” says proprietor Jim Wyse. “They make their nests in the holes that gophers and badgers have already made. With those populations shrinking, the owls haven’t been able to find breeding ground.” His winery’s tasting fees are donated to The Burrowing Owl Conservation Society, an organization that creates artificial burrows for the birds. The results so far are encouraging; from zero sightings a fewyears ago, 18 owls returned in 2007. Jim takes the Burrowing Owl website’s credo “Do no harm” to heart. The bears who frequently visit the vineyard (indicating a preference for Chardonnay grapes) are gently discouraged. Spadefoot Toads have been rescued from the swimming pool, and as at Tinhorn Creek, any snakes on the property are relocated back to their migratory path. “If you move them too far from their hibernacula, they’ll never find their way back to the nest,” says Jim.

He takes me on a tour of his vineyard, showing me the bat-nurseries and bluebird houses placed on posts around his property. He says that both birds and bats help out with pest control, but his respect for wildlife is evident. Meadowlarks build nests at ground level in the vineyard, and if an employee encounters one, Jim has them close off the row until the babies hatch. Then he rewards the employee with a bottle of wine. “I come from a family of bird-lovers,” he says. “I guess I come by it honestly.”

Debbra Mikaelsen is a freelance writer and editor based in Vancouver. After 24 hours she was somewhat disappointed to leave Oliver without encountering a snake, toad or bat.