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On Canada's East Coast, the world's highest tides move more than 100 billion tons of water as the mighty Atlantic Ocean rises and falls. In just one day, more water will funnel through this bay than the combined discharge of all freshwater rivers on Earth. Always eroding away, it's always moving back and forth. It never stops, just ceaseless tides continually reshaping the bay. It's summer on the Bay of Fundy, and thousands of shorebirds have arrived to fuel up during their great migration south. As the tide rolls in to Fundy's coastal flatlands, tiny migrant birds called semi-palmated sandpipers retreat to the shore.
It's a unique scene on the shores because the beach it looks like pebbles but at high tide it's possible you could be looking at a group of say 20,000 little semi-palmated sandpipers all bunched together. Subtle brown, gray, and white coloring camouflages the birds. Semi-palmated sandpipers are long distance travelers. The Bay of Fundy is the only stop these sandpipers will make before their 4,000 km journey south. They arrive here from their breeding grounds in Alaska and in the Canadian subarctic having already flown a distance more than 2,000 mi.
They haven't slept for 3 days. When these birds arrive from their breeding grounds on their shores here they weigh about 20 g. That's um less than an ounce so about the same weight as a big strawberry. Young, small, and hungry. The birds will spend the next 3 weeks here restoring their depleted energy. They will fly for 3 days nonstop to reach their wintering grounds in South America. Well, I thought about the last time I was on an airplane and the flight took about oh 2 hours and I felt pretty tired at the end and I actually complained and so I'm very inspired by these little semi-palmated sandpipers who manage, you
know, weighing only 40 g and maybe being only 16 cm long that they can fly all the way to South America. The birds will need to double their weight before they set off on their journey to South America. The surging waters of the Bay sustain some of the richest ecosystems on the planet. Twice a day, high tides kick up nutrients from the depths of the Atlantic that feed an abundance of marine life like this humpback whale. While low tides reveal kilometers of ocean floor that team with tiny creatures like the mud snail. Each day, more than 160 billion tons of water funnel through the Bay of Fundy.
It would take 2 years for the same amount of water to cascade over Niagara Falls. The Bay of Fundy stretches along 290 km of Canada's East Coast cradled between the provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Its mouth is 100 km wide and reaches depths of more than 200 m. The name Fundy is thought to date back to the 16th century when Portuguese explorers first sailed across the Bay. They called it Rio Fundo deep river. The Bay's extremely high tides are due to its length and unusual funnel shape. Water surging in from the Atlantic flows into the basin. As the bay gets narrower and shallower, there's no place for the water to go but up.
Currents will rise as high as 15 m along the coastline of the bay. The planet's oceanic tides are controlled by the orbit of the moon. High tide occurs on the Bay of Fundy when the moon is directly overhead. The gravitational force of the moon pulls ocean currents towards it, creating a high swell. Throughout the day, the Earth and Moon rotate away from one another, and the high swell is released like a slingshot, causing a tidal wave into the bay.
The time it takes for this wave to travel into the bay, then back out into the ocean, is the same amount of time it takes the moon to orbit the Earth. When the tide leaves the bay, it collides with the high swell caused by the next gravitational pull of the moon, once more forcing water into the bay. And it's called the seiche effect or the bathtub effect, you know, when you get in a bathtub and the water will go like this. If you sit quietly, it levels out. If you push or move a lot, the water goes up further. That's what the bay does. The seiche effect or the bathtub effect combined with the shape of the bay causes the huge, huge tides.
I'm completely enthralled with the amount of water that comes into this bay. It's just blows my mind. As the high tide leaves the bay, Fundy's muddy ocean floor is exposed once again. From a distance, the sea bottom appears deserted. Up close, the expansive tidal flats of the upper Bay of Fundy team with life. The extreme tides of the bay whip up a perfect blend of water, oxygen, and mud, creating an ideal habitat for marine creatures like the mud snail. These coastal wetlands, called mud flats, form in sheltered areas like bays and estuaries where tides and rivers deposit mud.
The mud flats may just look mud to most people, but to me they're velvety, expansive, unique habitat. A complex food web of invertebrates and mollusks is hidden in the mud. A nutrient-rich broth called biofilm underpins the entire food web. This soupy liquid brims with microscopic organisms that rely on the sun's energy to grow. At low tide, a 2-km stretch of mud flat receives direct sunlight, making these coastal wetlands one of the most vibrant ecosystems in the bay. Mud snails sail along the slushy surface. Each forages its own path through the muck to slurp up nutrient-rich biofilm.
Protected by a hard shell, mud snails face little threat from predators. Tiny mud shrimp hide out of sight. They burrow in the mud to avoid being eaten by the sandpipers. There are as many as 6 million mud shrimp concealed in every square meter of brown sludge. But at high tide, this tasty seafood buffet is closed for business. Thousands of hungry shorebirds wait patiently for the tide to retreat. It will be another 6 hours before they can eat again.
Playful sandpipers splash in a shallow tidal pool. For most, this time between meals is a crucial rest period. They come up onto the shore and a lot of times stand on one foot, tuck their little beak in under their wing, and remain as still as possible so that they conserve energy. It's what we call roosting. The birds cannot swim or cannot eat at high tide, so they get in these massive protective flocks. As the tide edges further ashore, the sandpipers crowd the pebbled beach. But while the shorebirds wait for low tide, another bird is eyeing them. The wooded outskirts of the mudflats are the nesting grounds for the world's fastest predator.
Nearly as fast as a Formula 1 race car, the peregrine falcon is one of the most accomplished hunters on the mudflats. These little tiny birds move as one huge organism. I don't know how they do it. You could see 10,000 birds flying at the same time in this unison formation. There's kind of a dance in the sky and like an aerial ballet. Flying in these miraculous formations that I sometimes think look like the northern lights. So, that is actually a defense mechanism for these little sandpipers.
Like a school of fish in the sky, the flock twists and turns through the air, confusing its predators. But in this case, the predator does not leave empty-handed. This peregrine falcon flies off with a sandpiper clutched in its talons. As the tide begins to ebb, the sandpipers follow the retreating waterline, bobbing their beaks in and out of the mud. The semipalmated sandpiper is named for the webbing between its toes. This tissue makes it well-equipped to tread along the surface of the mudflats without sinking. As the tide recedes, the birds spread out.
Each minds its own section of the beach. Sandpipers use the tips of their bills to pluck invertebrates out of their burrows. One bird can eat as many as 20,000 mud shrimp in a single tidal cycle. With a 4,000 km journey on the horizon, stocking up on food is essential for survival. Every single bird's vulnerability is felt. And you can connect with these little birds and be inspired by them. As the sun descends on the gleaming mud flats, and night sets in for most, the birds will continue to fuel up for their great migration.
Across the bay, sandstone statues sculpted by the tides stand on one of the Bay of Fundy's most iconic shorelines. The Hopewell Rocks. What we have here that's better than many other places in the bay, is we have sea stacks that are great measuring sticks for people to see the vertical manifestation of the tide, which is absolutely amazing. Here, the tides climb 14 m up the sea stacks and wash over more than 10 km of mud flats. Wind, rain, and the restless tides of the bay carve these unique formations.
Water trickles down vertical fissures in cliffs, prying cracks open. Over thousands of years, large blocks of rock separate from adjoining cliffs, and powerful tides carve away at their base, shaping the top-heavy formations known today as the Flowerpot Rocks. The term came from a single sea stack shaped like a flowerpot. The nickname stuck, and today all sea stacks in the Bay of Fundy are referred to as Flowerpot Rocks, though only one truly resembles a flowerpot. Well, there's one person who's responsible for this, and guess who it was? Robert Ripley, Ripley's Believe It or Not, was here in the 1930s.
I don't know if he coined the expression, but he certainly popularized it by calling that rock the Flowerpot Rock, and ever since then people have referred to them as Flowerpot Rocks. Each of the 17 Flowerpot Rocks is as unique as a fingerprint. As the tide retreats to expose the mud flats, visitors are able to walk on kilometers of ocean floor that just hours ago were submerged deep below the Atlantic. A deep-set cave hollowed out by the powerful force of the tide accompanies the sea stacks. One of my favorite spots is in the huge sea cave. And that is the most glowing or the best example of appreciation of how high the tide comes cuz you're
standing up there where those holes are and you're looking down at low tide and you're thinking the water actually comes up here and made these holes. The surging waters of Fundy's ceaseless tides wear away softer layers of sandstone rock leaving the tougher layers unsupported. Eventually, chunks of the harder rock collapse creating small caves that grow larger as pounding waters erode the rock. Barnacles and snails are left exposed on the porous sandstone cave.
Seaweed that stood tall in an underwater forest just hours ago now becomes a carpet soaking up the sunlight it needs to grow. And the red cliffs of the bay contrast with the bright green mosses that blanket the caves. It is a marine habitat temporarily accessible to terrestrial visitors. Soon, their footsteps will be erased by the rising tide of the bay and the caves will once again fill with water. Walking the base is fascinating and seeing it at high tide is fascinating and another component to that is going kayaking because the kayakers can go to places and touch things that you as a pedestrian cannot.
Amanda Harrington is an adventure guide and an avid sea kayaker who has paddled these waters since she was a teen. Just to be out in the nature and to be on the water. I get to share the nature that people don't get to see on a regular basis. And it's kind of unexplored because the Bay of Fundy is very unpredictable half the time. The climate on the Bay of Fundy is temperamental and can change in a heartbeat. Sudden fog can disorient and threaten the safety of those on the water. You're always constantly thinking ahead because you have to be one step ahead of the Bay of Fundy cuz you never know what it can throw at you from day to day. As fog rolls over the bay,
a thick blanket of mist cloaks the dense coastal forest. The feathery needles of towering red spruce comb through the particles of mist collecting water on the tip of each needle. These drops fall onto a canopied forest floor watering a dense green carpet of moss. The Acadian fog forest of Fundy National Park is the intersection where boreal forest species from the north meet temperate trees from the south. It is a rare and special environment shaped by the tides. High tides on the Bay of Fundy keep the water cool year-round.
Twice a day, cold water from the Atlantic moves in and out of the bay. With no time to warm up, water temperatures here change by less than 10° C between summer and winter. The Acadian fog forest clings to the coastline, thriving on the fog exhaled from the mouth of the bay. As humid summer air hits the cool water, initiating the water cycle of this park. You've got this beautiful rocky cliff habitat and um areas where the forest comes down and meets the ocean. These beautiful, majestic, uh huge estuaries that have lots of salt marsh where so many birds and other animals use as refuge.
There's just so much diversity along the coast and the tide is constantly reshaping those things. The fog forest stretches from the marine coast of the Bay of Fundy up to the Caledonia Highlands, nearly 300 m above the coastline. A high wetland lake is crowded with mosses and littered with deadwood. Dragonflies buzz around the coarse grasses. A determined frog sits still in the shallow water. It waits for the right moment to pounce on its prey. One of the many insects that hover over the lake. Life on the marshland is hard.
The bog is highly acidic, low in nutrients, and home to some surprising predators. The carnivorous sundew plant uses sticky secretions to trap insects. The juice of the pitcher plant attracts, then dissolves unsuspecting prey. These bog plants have evolved in fascinating ways, ensuring their survival. But the star of the bog is the green carpet under these grasses, called sphagnum moss. Capable of soaking up 20 times its weight in water, sphagnum moss is so absorbent, it was used to bandage wounded soldiers in the First World War.
The spongy moss is the foundation of this marshland and regulates the park's most precious resource, water. During the rainy season, the moss soaks up water. During a drought, the water drains out of the bog, gradually seeping into small streams below. Water descends from the Caledonia Highlands Plateau, cascading over waterfalls into a deep-set ravine. A tiny community of creatures and plants sprayed by the gentle mist of the waterfall thrives under the canopy. Its steep valley walls shelter a variety of shade-tolerant plants, each fighting for a small piece of real estate in a competitive market.
Just like the forest, you've got different levels of the canopy, different tree species that are able to outcompete others and get up into the light. But the same thing happens in the understory. And down at Dixon Falls, you have lots of different ferns that have the ability to grow up much higher than the mosses and lichens around them. The rock polypody fern has a competitive edge. It grows straight out of the cliff, shading out other species below. All these species they start off very shade-tolerant themselves cuz they're under the canopy of the trees, but then as you go down through the layers, you
have to be more and more shade-tolerant um and survive with less and less light. Mosses like sphagnum prefer cool, shady conditions and dominate this ravine. A partnership between fungi and algae creates a special organism called lichen. Though lichens grow everywhere, they go largely unnoticed. If you look at the bark of most trees, you're not actually looking at the bark of the tree, you're just looking at a community of lichens. And the closer you get to that tree, you'll find completely different communities on the different species and those lichens are all competing for space on the tree on that bark and or on a rock
or wherever they're growing there just a sane amount of competition. The competitive spirit of the lichens and plants of the forest sustains the health of Dixon Brook Falls and regulates its water cycle. You'll see that the water in that brook is just crystal clear because this community all around there is capturing the fog, holding on to the moisture, filtering that rain water, filtering everything as it goes down through. And it all starts with that plant community. The waters of the brook flow into larger and rockier rivers. The beds of gravel below these waters are important habitats for spawning fish like the Atlantic salmon.
Finally, these rivers flow out into estuaries where they feed back into the mouth of the bay. One of nature's expert fishers, the great blue heron, scans the estuary for prey. As the tide pulls away shallow waters reveal enticing prey like small fish headed for inland rivers to spawn. And it decides to try its luck on the other side of the channel. The heron has a wingspan of 2 m. Its long neck tucks into an S-shape in flight for greater aerodynamics. The heron seems to have spotted its prey. Soon, this estuary will once again fill with water. And a thick fog will roll in with the tide, exhaling its misty breath into the Acadian forest,
starting this water cycle all over again. Across the bay, the retreating tide reveals a much different forest. Fossil by fossil, these are the Joggins fossil cliffs. Traces of ancient plants that once stood as tall as 10-story buildings are fossilized in the walls of these cliffs. This jagged bluff, more than 14 km long, provides a window into our planet's past more than 300 million years ago, a time known as the Carboniferous period, millions of years ago, the mosses of Fundy National Park would have looked much different.
The typical mosses that you would see growing on the forest floor, and that's the size they are now. But back in the Carboniferous, tissues that grew like that uh grew up to 30 m in height or higher. Unlike the plants in shaded Dickson Brook Falls, the mosses that grew in this sun-filled ancient forest had no need to compete for sunlight and space. So they grew to monster proportions. These super-sized plants generated high concentrations of oxygen, 50% more than what is in the Earth's atmosphere today. In this hyper-oxygenated environment, insects thrived.
Most insects are able to take in oxygen at a rate much higher than other creatures. They do not have lungs. Instead, tubes all over their bodies deliver oxygen to each cell. With more oxygen penetrating their deepest cells, insects evolved to horror movie dimensions. What we're looking at here on this slab of sandstone are two rows of ripples that you can pretty distinctly see right here. It almost looks like a stroller or something was pushed over this rock. But these are trackways called Diplichnites, formed by a giant millipede called Arthropleura. This is actually the largest land invertebrate that we know has ever existed.
This monstrous millipede grew as long as 2 m. The Carboniferous period is known as the coal age. Over millions of years, heat and pressure converted prehistoric plants into the coal still used as fuel today. What coal is? It's not a rock. It's actually just the carbon that's left over from ancient vegetation. So, it's a huge mat of ancient vegetation that had a chance to rot as one unit. So, peat moss essentially. In Nova Scotia, there's been a lot of coal mining. So, that's what a lot of the people here had known for a very long time. I started in the coal business in 1939 and I did that till 1960. You see the timber standing there?
My dad used to work there. What we're looking at here is a drain from the old coal mine. This used to be the old pier that they used to load coal when the ships come in for coal. When everybody used coal for cooking, heat, but them days is gone. I can't walk this beach with my head up. My head's always down looking. And if I see something I think it's good to pick up, pick up piece like this. Now, that piece used to be the bottom of a lake at one time. And it's You turn it over. You see all the little That's uh feces.
Fish poop. That's 300 million years old. See all the little cracks in there? You keep tapping it and they break open for you. And I'll show you what's inside. See that? There's some more stuff inside there. And when you break a rock and look at it, you're the first person that ever seen that. You find scales, you find teeth. Wow, just like opening a storybook. And it's a great feeling. Standing looking at there and wondering what took place back then, 300 million years ago. That's why I love it here. I keep looking and wondering,
scratching my head all the time. Trying to figure out what took place. What [snorts] it really looked like. It was a mossy freshwater lakes. The plants was huge. Even the bugs we find is big. Not like today. I found a mayfly. Back then they were that wide. Today they're like a mosquito. In 2008, this Coal Age Galapagos was named a world heritage site for its rich fossil record. The first major discovery was made on this beach in 1859. An associate of Charles Darwin used dynamite to excavate the bones of the earliest known reptile ever discovered.
It was the missing link between amphibians and vertebrates that moved onto land. Today, the cliffs are excavated naturally by Fundy's 12-m tall tides, allowing researchers to pull fossils without digging. Way back during the Carboniferous, Joggins was situated right in the center between the newly formed Appalachian mountain range. So, huge Appalachian mountains all around us. We were on a sinking block of land between some mountains, actually. So, we were the lowest point. And all of the sediment that was coming down from those mountains and being carried by all of the meandering rivers and the fast rivers and everything like that, was all being deposited at the lowest point, which was us. So, we get so many layers
of rock there because of all of that sedimentation that was constantly happening. This formation didn't really have a choice but to buckle into that basin. It's bowl-shaped, and that's why these layers are tilted. They're all in chronological order. So, you can walk back 15 million years by going straight up the beach and not digging down. Every kilometer is a million years. You're actually walking through the evolution of some groups of plants and animals. 20 km off the coast of Nova Scotia is a reminder of the Bay of Fundy's turbulent geological past.
Ile Haute That's part of the fun of going there and to get a step back in time and understand a little bit about it. It's a special place in the middle of the Bay of Fundy, 17 km out in the fog here behind me. More than 150 million years ago, the ancient supercontinent of Pangaea broke apart. A rift formed, creating two landmasses, one including present-day Africa, the other including North America. As the rift pushed the two plates apart, the pressure triggered volcanic eruptions, burying southern Nova Scotia under a layer of magma. Over time, lava solidified into basalt.
The entire island is made up of this volcanic rock. Ile Haute is one of the most prominent islands in the upper Bay of Fundy. Its 300-m vertical cliffs rise from the water, veiled by a sheet of thick Fundy fog. A colony of gray seals patrols the waters. And lush green vegetation claims the land. Beauty and dramatic rock formations, seals popping up, the scent. It is just a very unique spot. And then we're in a busy world where there's actually very few spots where there's no development, no action.
It's just so calm and just feel it. It has a lore and a meaning for people around the bay. Though now a peaceful retreat, Ile Haute and its surrounding waters were once among the most treacherous places in the upper Bay of Fundy. In 1604, the French explorer Samuel de Champlain first laid eyes on the He called it Ilhaut, high island, for its tall, vertical cliffs. I know now it was not foggy when he found it. He would never have made it then. He would either have grounded his ship and been in bad shape or not found it at all. It's fairly small, like just a kilometer and a half in length and much less in width. So, a
slim little baby out there. In the golden age of the sail, nearly everything moved by way of water. And Ilhaut was an obstacle for passing ships. There is a perilous place around Ilhaut. It has a long, hook-shaped out in the Bay of Fundy. So, you have deep water on each side and then this gravel bar sticks out. And that can be very, difficult to navigate around and it creates tidal rips at certain conditions. So, it was a very dangerous place to navigate around. For nearly 100 years, a lighthouse on the island alerted incoming ships to danger. But the solitary life of a lighthouse keeper on remote Ilhaut was a hard one.
When the lighthouse burnt down, the island became once again uninhabited. Back on shore, one of the oldest lighthouses on the Bay of Fundy coast still stands, reminding mariners of the many ships that have wrecked here. One of the most hazardous stretches on the waters of the upper Bay of Fundy is Cape Enrage, named for the turbulent waters that pass over this jagged reef, jutting sharply into the bay. For 100 years, the Bay of Fundy served as a marine highway that connected Canada's East Coast to the world's major seaports. People marked time by the turn of the tide and still do today.
Everybody who makes their living on the water like I do, they know that you have to work when it's possible. The fishermen here know it more than most. In the early morning, a colorful fleet of fishing boats waits in the bay for the tide to rise and fill the empty harbor with water. For us here, we don't have a 9-5 job. We run by the tides. You only have so much time to get the boat in, boat out. And then when you're out on the water, you're dictated by the bay. There is no way to get around it. The tides govern your lifestyle. They govern the job. And some days you think you're coming in at a certain time, you miss a tide, guess what?
You're up for another 12 hours. So, there's there's no way you're working around it. Tides control your job. Sometimes it's smooth sailing, sometimes it's rougher than hell. Modern fishing boats are outfitted with tools to aid navigation and avoid the perils that wrecked the ships of those who came before them. But times here in the Bay of Fundy you can get quite foggy. But you're prepared for it because uh we use a lot of electronics. We have radar and GPS and sounders and it's what you use and just almost like playing a video game when you're out there. You can't see nothing, but just dots on screens.
It has a draw on you and you can't explain that until you've been out on it. The water, the smells, the sounds. The Bay of Fundy is the best spot in the world to work. From coastal flatlands to towering sandstone sea stacks the landscapes on the Bay of Fundy change with the turn of the tide. It's like things get revealed. You are allowed to see inside a crystal ball or something. It is a landscape where powerful currents unearth 300 million-year-old mysteries. As long as I can walk and keep walking, I'm going to look for fossils. Who knows how many secrets is in this cliff and we're going to find them.
Fog breathes new life into old-growth forests. Shorelines team with wildlife. And communities are governed by the rhythm of the world's highest tides.
