The Picnic in the Laurentians

"Very, very long ago – over a billion years at least – the first mountain range on Earth was squeezed upward by the movements of tectonic plates deep beneath the surface of the planet. These first mountains are still here, although altered by ancient volcanic activity and worn and scraped by several ice ages. In Quebec, this mountainous area is called the Laurentians. The earliest human residents of the Laurentians were the indigenous peoples, the Algonquins and later the Iroquois. There were some semi-permanent settlements along the major rivers – the North and the Rouge – but in general, these populations were small and seasonal, due to the rigors of the climate. These hunting and gathering cultures penetrated the region as far north as Mount Tremblant (the “shaking mountain”), reports of which were given to European traders by the late 18th century."

"The Picnic in the Laurentians"

Nobody knew where he came from.
With long wings the colour of earth
And thin unwieldy body,
He crashed Louis' birthday party
On the edge of a lake
In the heart of the Laurentians:
A giant night butterfly,
In solitude seeking our company.

The whole afternoon,
The forest rang with our laughter
(Urbanites unleashed en plein air),
The water absorbed the shrieks
Of the kids paddling their
Green plastic boat
(Sunburned savages eager to play),
The bushes and leaves breathed in
The smoke of our fire with chunks of
Meat and marshmallows inside
(Traditional
North-American picnic fare).

Now we were gazing at the intruder
Wondering how he lost his way,
And welcomed him to what we thought
Was our turf. It was all ours,
And he was our guest, silently
Partaking of our celebration,
Gratefully taking the crumbs
From our feast.

He was from there
But it was all ours,
And he never put in a word
Of complaint. Not even when
Soon he was forgotten,
Sadly misplaced among the plates,
With crumpled tissues and half-eaten
Cake.