MESSAGE FROM THE REEVE
It’s hard to believe we’re already into May. It’s safe to say 2025 is flying by quickly. We’re already looking at the beginning of the summer camping season and the summer fire advisory season. Please be sure you keep an eye on M.D. social platforms for up-to-date information on the current status in our region. At the time of the printing of this newsletter, we were sitting at a Fire Advisory, which means no new fire permits for non-essential burning were being issued, but safe campfires were still allowed. Let’s all make sure we do our part to have a safe and smoke-free summer. You can do this by:
Not throwing lit cigarette butts on the ground (or out of the window of a moving vehicle)
• Keeping an eye on your exhaust when our quadding
• Monitoring any burn piles you have, and making sure you have a way of dousing flames/embers
• When you have a campfire, follow the motto of soak, stir, and soak again to ensure your fire is out.
In the coming months, we will have students from across the region graduating and moving on to higher education,
NOTES FROM THE CAO
Spring in the M.D. of Bonnyville doesn’t arrive with a gentle breeze and pastel flowers. No, it typically arrives like an old off-road truck at 3 a.m. — loud, chaotic, and usually dragging a lot of mud and oil in behind it. As the snowbanks finally begin to retreat (only to reappear in a surprise blizzard around mid-April!!!), they reveal the treasures of winter: a half-buried lawn chair, a few unidentifiable car parts or pop cans and other debris, at least one rogue mitten that’s been missing since Christmas and, if you’re lucky, you might even find that garbage bin that blew away in January (or at least the lid).
The real joy, though, is the temporary transformation of every ditch, driveway, and backroad into a picturesque water feature. Locals affectionately refer to this period as “Lake Season” — not to be confused with actual lake season (which starts in June and involves less water in your boots). During this particular Lake Season, waterproof footwear becomes a social occurrence, and spotting someone trying to cross a flooded field in sneakers is the local version of slapstick comedy.
Local wildlife also becomes a bit disoriented by the seasonal chaos. Deer stumble out of the treeline looking both majestic and mildly annoyed, like they’ve been rudely woken up from a nap. Foxes dart across thawing fields, leaving their muddy paw prints in yards and occasionally
whether that be from elementary school to high school or high school into post-secondary, Council and I congratulate you on all your hard work and wish you well in the future.
Speaking of post-secondary studies and the future, did you know the M.D. has a scholarship program for students in programs related to medicine and veterinary medicine? Check out the story on Page 5 for more information including what programs are eligible and how to apply.
Council and I hope to see you at some of our upcoming open houses. We will be celebrating Emergency Preparedness Week May 10 at the Riverhurst Hall. Drop by for a burger and grab some information on emergency preparedness, meet some of our first responders, and find out more about our emergency alerting system, Voyent Alert! On May 25, we invite you to celebrate National Public Works Week with us at the Transportation & Utilities Shop. We’ll have equipment on display and operators on hand to answer any questions about what they do and the equipment they use. You’ll find out more about these open houses on Page 11.
showing up on doorbell cams like furry little burglars. Birds start returning, chirping their confused songs at 6 a.m. while dodging freezing rain, and the geese (aka cobra chickens) return like they own the place. Loud, territorial, and ready to hiss at anything within a five-foot radius, they march across roads with zero regard for traffic, daring you to challenge their authority.
Squirrels resume their high-stakes parlour routines between leafless branches, now looking thinner and twitchier after a long winter of rationed birdseed and questionable life choices. Even the neighbourhood dogs seem to have mixed feelings — torn between the joy of digging through half-melted snowbanks and the horror of the mysterious smells they uncover.
The M.D. itself seems to wake up full of energy ready to take on all the new jobs that spring up, much like a beaver furiously damming up running water. Snowmobiles vanish overnight, replaced by quads and muddy bicycles, while neighbours cautiously begin venturing out in hoodies, pretending it’s warm enough to justify putting away the winter coats (it’s not). Barbecue grills are dusted off like sacred relics, and the smell of slightly charred hot dogs starts to battle with the scent of thawing earth and last fall’s forgotten leaves. Welcome to the M.D. of Bonnyville in the spring — it’s a wonderful place to be.
