Birds and Nature on the Trans Canada Trail in New Brunswick

 “Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.”
 
Rachel Carson
 

#Hike4Birds trek across New Brunswick

 

When we crossed the Confederation Bridge from Prince Edward Island and stepped onto the Trans Canada Trail in New Brunswick, autumn had already begun to transform the landscape. We had spent the previous months walking through Newfoundland, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island, watching the birds and landscapes change as summer slowly gave way to fall. New Brunswick would carry that transition much farther. By the time we finally crossed the border into Quebec in early November, after hiking roughly 900 km of roads, rail trails, boardwalks, forest paths, and rugged coastal footpaths across the province, the brilliant fall colours would be disappearing, frost would cover the landscape each morning, Canada Geese would be moving overhead, and winter would be close behind us.

 

In many ways, birding New Brunswick from the Trans Canada Trail was a story of changing seasons, dynamic landscapes, and new possibilities for enjoying nature. We began among salt marshes, beaches, tidal flats, and coastal wetlands near the Northumberland Strait, continued through the marshes and agricultural landscapes around Sackville and Moncton, entered the mixed forests of the Dobson Trail and Fundy National Park, crossed the rugged wilderness of the Fundy Footpath, returned to the coast near St. Martins, and finally followed the broad Saint John River north through farmland, towns, and increasingly cold autumn weather toward Edmundston. Looking back across the province, what stands out most is not one particular bird or habitat, but how quickly one region seemed to give way to another.

 

Cape Jourimain and the Northumberland Strait

 

Our introduction to New Brunswick could hardly have been better for two people walking across Canada as part of a #Hike4Birds journey. Because pedestrians cannot simply walk across the Confederation Bridge, the shuttle from Prince Edward Island deposited us at the Cape Jourimain National Wildlife Area. As such, instead of arriving beside a highway or in the middle of a town, we began our fourth province surrounded by coastal dunes, salt marshes, brackish lagoons, hardwood forest, beaches, and of course - birds.

 

We took the opportunity to explore the Nature Centre, climb the lookout tower, wander down toward the lighthouse, and walk along the shoreline beneath the enormous bridge we had just crossed. Cape Jourimain protects a remarkable mixture of habitats, and our timing in September meant that migration was already underway. On the beach we found Semipalmated Plovers, a Willet, a Greater Yellowlegs, and several Greater Black-backed, Herring, Ring-billed, and Bonaparte's Gulls. Beyond these, around fifty Double-crested Cormorants were gathered at the base of the bridge pilings, while Common Yellowthroats, Yellow-rumped Warblers, Black-capped Chickadees, and Blue Jays moved through the vegetation behind the shore. A pair of hawks circled above us, and shortly after we finally began walking south, a Bald Eagle swept low over the trail and disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

 

Those first kilometres also introduced us to one of the dominant features of our New Brunswick crossing - wetlands. Golden cattails stood against blue water, red maples were changing and brightening the forest edges, ducks moved through the marshes, and bleached snags rose above ponds and flooded areas. Hurricane Dorian had recently passed through Atlantic Canada, and its effects were still obvious. On our first day alone, we climbed over, under, or around dozens of fallen trees, but even that made us look more closely at the regenerating forests, marshes, wildflowers, and waterways surrounding the trail.

 

Marshes, Migration, and Sackville

 

Between Port Elgin and Sackville, the trail passed through young forest, clear cuts, wetlands, hay fields, and agricultural landscapes. Autumn migration was becoming increasingly underway. In one flooded area, trees killed by a beaver dam had become perches for Palm Warblers, Yellow-rumped Warblers, and Black-capped Chickadees. As we stopped to watch them, a Spruce Grouse calmly walked across the trail in front of us. Later we crossed a trestle bridge covered with Double-crested Cormorants while a Great Blue Heron hunted in the marsh below and a Belted Kingfisher circled noisily overhead. Waterfowl rested farther out on the water, beyond the useful reach of our binoculars.

 

Closer to Sackville, flocks of Canada Geese were staging in the agricultural fields, and a Northern Harrier swept low across the landscape. White-throated Sparrows called from the vegetation, American Crows moved overhead, and four Ring-necked Pheasants provided one of the day's more unexpected sights when they sprinted at remarkable speed across a field. By the time we reached town, we were tired, rain was threatening, and we still had kilometres to go, but the boardwalk through the Sackville Waterfowl Park was impossible for us to hurry through. We stopped to watch American Wigeon, Gadwall, and Blue-winged Teal on the water before finally continuing to where we were staying.

 

We returned to the Waterfowl Park the following day in a gentle rain and had time to look more carefully. The trails and boardwalks wound through open water, marsh, woodland, and meadow, all within the community itself. Double-crested Cormorants, Gadwalls, American Wigeon, Mallards, Blue-winged Teal, a Pied-billed Grebe, Great Blue Herons, a Belted Kingfisher, Swamp Sparrows, and Black-capped Chickadees were among the birds we encountered. What impressed us almost as much as the wildlife was seeing how many local people used the park. It was a reminder of something that has increasingly become important to us during this walk - that meaningful encounters with nature do not necessarily require travelling into remote wilderness. Sometimes they begin on a boardwalk within walking distance of people's homes.

 

This lesson would repeat throughout New Brunswick – as it was a region with so many remote forests, but as one where it’s urban centers such as Sackville, Moncton, Saint John, and Fredericton each demonstrated how natural spaces are part of cities and a means for residents to explore nature.

 

The Bay of Fundy and an Autumn Landscape

 

Leaving Sackville took us back onto roads and into an increasingly pastoral landscape. The hills rolled beneath us, commercial blueberry fields had turned brilliant red, and patches of conifer forest stood dark against orange, yellow, and crimson deciduous trees. Near Dorchester we returned to the Bay of Fundy, where the enormous wooden Semipalmated Sandpiper known as Shep reflects the area's close association with the shorebirds that gather along the bay. We also found ourselves doing something we certainly had not anticipated when planning a cross-Canada hike: walking along the red mudflats with three goats before spending the night in a cell in the old Dorchester jail.

 

From Dorchester toward Moncton, green agricultural fields, old dykes, red tidal waters, exposed mudflats, and forested hills created an entirely different environment from the marshes we had entered only days before. Here, birds were only part of what kept drawing our attention. The changing colour of the fields, the smell of the coast, and the movement of the tides all made it difficult simply to put our heads down and walk.

 

The Bay of Fundy repeatedly reminded us that a landscape is never really still. Water advanced and retreated across enormous distances, mudflats appeared and vanished, rivers changed with the tide, and migrating birds arrived and departed. Walking through the region made such natural rhythms difficult to overlook – if only because we were travelling slowly enough to have the opportunity to enjoy them.

 

Into the Forest: The Dobson Trail

 

After Moncton and Dieppe, the character of our journey on the Trans Canada Trail changed dramatically again when we reached the Dobson Trail. After days of rail trails, towns, wetlands, and coastal landscapes, the roughly 58 km footpath carried us through rolling mixed and deciduous forests, around lakes and marshes, and beside small rivers and streams. We spent several nights in the forest, and as we climbed higher toward the Kent Hills wind farm and the edge of Fundy National Park.

 

By this point in the season, the forests were quieter than they would have been during spring migration or the breeding season. Many of the warblers that had surrounded us earlier in the summer were moving south or becoming increasingly difficult to find. Birding became less about seeing large numbers of species and more about listening for movement among the leaves, stopping when a chickadee flitted by, or noticing the occasional bird moving through the canopy.

 

The lack of evident bird life was neither a failure on our part nor reflective of a general absence of life. It was simply autumn. Throughout our journey, we had been learning that the experience of birding while walking long distances is very different from visiting a destination specifically to create a species list. We could not choose ideal weather, wait indefinitely for a species to appear, or arrive somewhere at dawn after receiving an eBird alert.  In addition to these realities, some days we were walking in heavy rain; on others, wind made hearing nearly impossible. Sometimes a difficult section of trail demanded enough attention that watching the canopy simply wasn't an option.

 

Fundy National Park and the Fundy Footpath

 

From the Dobson Trail we entered Fundy National Park and eventually reached the Fundy Footpath, one of the most physically demanding sections of our journey across New Brunswick – and as we understood, across Canada. Here birding inevitably became secondary to the trail itself. The route climbed and descended relentlessly through steep river valleys, crossed rugged forest, descended toward secluded beaches, and repeatedly returned us to high viewpoints over the Bay of Fundy.  Or, more simply put, the route was exhausting, and it took most of our energy simply to reach our campsite each day.

 

There is no denying that forest and coast were both beautiful, but the trail demanded our complete attention. Wet roots, rocks, erosion, steep climbs, river crossings, and heavily loaded backpacks meant that we could not always (or even rarely) stop simply because something rustled above us. Nevertheless, the natural experience of the Footpath went far beyond birds. We were travelling through a coastal wilderness where forested hills seemed to plunge directly toward the bay, streams cut through deep valleys, and forest spread across the ridges around us.

 

By the time we reached the Big Salmon River and began following the Fundy Trail Parkway toward St. Martins, rain had settled over the coast. Yet even under grey skies, the landscape remained spectacular. Waterfalls appeared beside the trail, waves broke around sea stacks below the cliffs, and the tide exposed rocky shorelines at the base of the famous red sea caves near St. Martins. At the time, reaching the village felt like emerging from another world. During our stay in St. Martins, the sun finally returned, and with it came one of our favourite birds of this part of the coast - a flock of Common Eiders floating in the bay nearby. It was another addition to our growing list and a fitting coastal species to find after days travelling beside Fundy.

 

Autumn Roads, Salamanders, and the Kennebecasis

 

Beyond St. Martins, the Trans Canada Trail unfortunately returned us to long stretches of roadway. Although road walking is rarely ideal for birding, the countryside between St. Martins and Hampton was extraordinarily beautiful. Forested hills glowed yellow, orange, and red, while on small farms horses, sheep, goats, and even a llama appeared between the woodlots.

 

The wildlife encounters in this section were sometimes quite literally at our feet. At one point we stopped to move a Spotted Salamander off the highway and found a tiny garter snake basking at the edge of the pavement. While Canada Geese rested in the fields, Black-capped Chickadees called excitedly from the trees, American Crows were nearly constant companions, and White-tailed Deer became increasingly common as evening approached.

 

When we reached Hampton, frost covered the landscape in the early morning, and fog hung above the local marsh. Loons were present on the water, and farther along the Kennebecasis River the brilliant foliage was reflected so perfectly in the dark surface that the landscape seemed doubled. These moments increasingly became the nature experiences we valued most - not necessarily rare species or dramatic encounters, but the ability to watch mist rise from a river, hear a bird calling from somewhere beyond the reeds, and notice the progression of a season one walking day at a time.

 

Saint John and Nature in the City

 

As we approached Saint John, the Trans Canada Trail took us through Rockwood Park, where forest, lakes, and recreational trails created another example of nature remaining woven into an urban landscape. During our time in the city, we also visited the New Brunswick Museum, where we were delighted to find an entire room dedicated to the birds of the province. The display included 116 specimens representing part of the remarkable avian diversity recorded in New Brunswick. We had also hoped to explore Irving Nature Park, but the recent storm damage and strong winds complicated our plans. Even so, the park's mixture of forest, salt marsh, and beach habitats reinforced just how many different ecosystems we had already crossed since entering the province.

 

This was an aspect of New Brunswick that surprised us. The province certainly offered remote forest and rugged coast, but it also repeatedly demonstrated how natural spaces can survive alongside communities. Sackville had its wetlands, Moncton its riverfront, Saint John its parks and coastal habitats, and Fredericton would soon provide another extensive urban trail system. Each offering people an opportunity to notice and explore the natural world that exists around them every day.

 

Fredericton and the Saint John River

 

After the water section of the Trans Canada Trail beyond Saint John led us to trek the regional highway around a military base, we returned to the TCT, walking through Oromocto and following a rail trail toward Fredericton. After so much road walking, returning to a forested trail filled with walkers, runners, and cyclists felt wonderful. Within Fredericton, the route passed beneath mature hardwood trees, beside the river, through green spaces, and close to the city's historic and cultural centre.

 

From Fredericton onward, the Saint John River increasingly became the organizing feature of our journey. We followed it north through small communities, forested hills, agricultural lands, and increasingly cold weather. Hawks and even a couple of eagles occasionally appeared along the river corridor. Near Hartland, one was perched high in a tree beside the water. As we stopped to watch and photograph it, the bird launched itself into the air, circled broadly above us, before silently continuing downriver.

 

The river also became a highway for migration. By late October, Ring-billed Gulls seemed to stream along it in the same direction we were walking, while large V-shaped formations of Canada Geese passed overhead. Some appeared to be travelling between feeding areas while others seemed bound farther south. Given the sheer numbers above us, the movement was now impossible to miss. In many ways we began to get the sense that nature itself seemed to be telling us that our walking season was running out.

 

The First Signs of Winter

 

Between Hartland and Florenceville-Bristol, autumn began giving way unmistakably to winter. One morning the rising sun turned a valley full of mist first pink and then gold, while grasses, late flowers, and fallen leaves were coated with heavy frost. The river disappeared and reappeared between banks of fog as we continued north.

 

While Ring-billed Gulls and Canadian Geese continued to call out overhead, the fact remained that by this point many of the birds that had filled our first days in New Brunswick were gone. The warblers had largely disappeared. Shorebird migration had moved on. The landscape itself had become quieter. Yet there was something satisfying about having walked slowly enough to witness that transformation. We had entered New Brunswick while marshes were still filled with migrating waterfowl and the maples were only beginning to turn. As we approached the end of our time in the province, the nights were filled with frost and the days were distinctly shorter. 

 

On November 4th we finally crossed from Edmundston into Quebec. The following day brought the first snow and temperatures that would soon plunge far below freezing. Our timing, it seemed, had been extraordinarily close.

 

Birding New Brunswick from the Trans Canada Trail

 

Looking back over our walk across New Brunswick, it is difficult to choose one landscape that defines the province. Cape Jourimain gave us shorebirds, cormorants, marshes, beaches, and the Northumberland Strait. Sackville surrounded us with waterfowl and demonstrated how extraordinary bird habitat can exist almost in the middle of town.  Fundy National Park and the Fundy Footpath immersed us in rugged coastal wilderness. St. Martins returned us to seabirds and the enormous rhythms of the tide. The Kennebecasis and Saint John river valleys gave us frost-covered mornings, Bald Eagles, migrating geese, gulls, deer, and the final brilliant colours of autumn.

 

New Brunswick also reinforced something that has become increasingly apparent during our first year on our #Hike4Birds journey across Canada along the TCT. Birding from a long-distance trail isn't really about moving from one famous birding destination to another. It is about paying attention to everything in between. A flooded stand of dead trees beside a rail trail can suddenly fill with warblers. A municipal boardwalk can bring us within sight of ducks, grebes, herons, and kingfishers. A roadside ditch can contain a salamander.  And a broad river through farmland can become a migration corridor overhead.

 

After just over 900 km in New Brunswick, what we remember is movement: tides advancing across the Bay of Fundy, rivers flowing north and south through the landscape, birds migrating, leaves changing colour, and the seasons changing.

 

Now we continue on as the Trans Canada Trail leads us into Quebec. The landscapes, language, trails, and undoubtedly the birds will change again.

 

See you on the trail - with your binoculars!