I’m up to my knees in water, socks and sneakers submerged — why not? — a few hundred metres west of where Billings Bridge crosses the Rideau River. Not far from a busy, noisy, fumy stretch of Bank Street that typifies much of urban Ottawa, I’m stepping carefully over stones covered in seaweedy slime, immersed in a world of fish and frogs and dragonflies, between mainland Old Ottawa South and my magical destination: a small, unnamed, kidney-shaped island just off the Rideau’s north shore.