2026 Little Canada Canadian Days Medallion Hunt

A community rooted through laughter and tears,
Where green minds have gathered for so many years.

"Green minds" refers to young, growing minds at the Little Canada Elementary School, an anchor location of the medallion.

Where seasons have turned and children have grown,
And roots have run deep in the soil that we've sown.

"Children have grown" refers to the schoolchildren who have passed through the school over the decades. "Roots" and "soil" are a double reference to the tree trunk in the ground where the medallion is hidden.

Considering what looms, keeping things clear,
Watching all that the township holds dear.

The Little Canada water tower is visible from the hunt area. "Keeping things clear" is a nod to the water tower's function of keeping the town's water supply clean and clear.

Unmoved by the decades that quicken their pace,
Just doing its job with a dignified grace.

The water tower is a permanent, unchanging fixture — a steadfast sentinel that has stood through all fifty years of Canadian Days.

Turn your back on a place where acquiring's the plan,
And give that direction a solid wide scan.

"Where acquiring's the plan" refers to the acquiring of knowledge, the elementary school. Hunters should turn their backs to the school and scan the area they see.

Look not to the sky and look not to the street,
But where kind of established things meet.

The medallion is hidden low to the ground, not up high or along any road. Trees are established things.

More than a gully but less than a canyon,
Not a close friend, more like a companion.

The ravine south of the walking path near the medallion is “more than a gully but less than a canyon.” It is not the hiding spot but runs alongside the hunt area as a companion landmark.

Where the path finds a fork, a choice must be made,
A patrol that is advising avoid that glade.

At the fork in the lower walking path that is near the medallion, is a black and white diagonally striped board serves as a barricade, “a patrol,” warning hunters not to go that direction.

A lone it is not and Elon's not there,
Arrangement has shifted but meaning is near.

Unscramble the letters in “lone” and in “Elon” to get Noel (Drive).

The prize doesn't reach to the name you've conceived,
Stay short of that stretch for a treasure achieved.

Stay short of, don't go back as far as, Noel Drive

A parcel of mown and you'll still hear the win,
Seek where the traveled gives way to has-been.

The old tar path where the medallion is hidden is deteriorating, “has-been” asphalt. Where the old path meets the lower walking path there is a noticeable wide area of mowed grass distinct from the surrounding uncut, wooded landscape. From that spot, cheers from “wins” at the nearby ballfields can still be heard.

What once stood in glory but does this no more,
And shrouds what you're seeking in waning floor.

What was once a living, upright tree is now a deteriorated trunk. This trunk is hiding the medallion.

A heap of potential is patient in wait,
The matter ready for some undisclosed fate.

The city stores a pile (heap) of fill near the ball fields, kept on hand for municipal projects.

Neither pile nor the row holds the prize that you chase,
But mark them as signposts that point to your place.

Laid out beside in such neat and orderly row,
Tween or so sentinels rest where no tire dare go.

Next to the pile of fill material is stored a “row” of approximately eleven concrete parking lot curb bumpers. These are near the entrance to the old tar path. The approximately eleven (tween) concrete curb bumpers are laid out in a row near the fill pile. They are no longer actively stopping tires, just resting in a neat line.

They've stopped all the rolling that once was their call,
Now shoulder to shoulder they weather their fall.

The bumpers are retired from active use, lying shoulder-to-shoulder weathering time.

Craze cobbled together from one summer's end,
Has found its own place where the footway does bend.

Pickleball is a nationwide “craze.” The sport was invented one summer (1965) and its name is cobbled together as a mix of tennis, badminton, and ping pong. The pickleball courts are visible from where the old tar path begins.

Conical feature where blows can get in,
A wordless direction toward where to begin.

The pickleball windsock (cone-shaped) is visible from the beginning of the old tar path. It points wordlessly in the direction of the wind, serving as a directional landmark.

Like the Beatles and ninjas, blood types, and the seasons,
Encircled are those deliveries where rising star reasons.

Things that come in fours - the Beatles, there are four teenage mutant ninjas, four blood types and four seasons. There are four ball fields behind the school. "Deliver" is the formal term for a pitching motion, and rising star refers both to students and to young ball players.

A netted ambition brought down to its knees,
A match if it finds one it's able to seize.

A soccer goal (net) is stored off to the side of the ballfields, waiting for a soccer match.

A lovely repast 'round a gathering centered,
Weathering cover for visitors who've entered.

The picnic pavilion near the parking lot is a gathering place. Its roof provides cover from the weather.

The southerly path asks you trust what you feel,
Through cracks in the surface and time's slow repeal.

Hunters should follow the old tar path heading south from the school. The path is cracked and time-worn. 

Count not by the clock and count not by the mile,
But pace out your steps in a mirroring style.

Hunters should count their footsteps rather than use any measurement tool. "Mirroring style" hints that the number of paces is the same from either end of the old tar path to the hiding spot — it mirrors itself.

When the number you reach matches as hand in glove,
And finds itself rhyming with heaven above.

The number of paces is 57. The "5" evokes five fingers fitting a glove, and "7" rhymes with "heaven." Walk 57 paces from either end of the old tar path to find the hiding spot.

The prize does not wait where the bases are found,
But farther along on less trafficked ground.

The medallion is not hidden near the ball fields or bases. Hunters should move beyond the ballfields onto the old tar path which sees less foot traffic.

And those who'd prefer that the pill pass them by,
Rest easy in the eye of cyclone strung high.

"Pill" is one of the oldest slang terms for a baseball. The cyclone fencing offers easy rest for spectators who prefer protection from foul balls.

Triad of tiers for the faithful roots from the side,
Unshielded from glory or from what's thrown far and wide.

The metal bleachers have three tiers - a triad - where fans cheer from the side of the ballfields. The other bleachers are open and unprotected, unshielded from foul balls.

The game is not here where the spectators wait,
But south of these benches lies fortune's true gate.

The medallion is not at the bleachers or ballfields. The hunt continues south, past these landmarks, down the old tar path.

Where asphalt surrenders at each end to earth,
A downhill persuasion will prove its own worth.

At both ends of the old tar path, there is no pavement, it has “surrendered” into bare ground. The path runs downhill from the school.

You've counted your paces and followed the clues,
Now reach into ruin, it's yours if you choose.

The hunter has done the work — counted 57 paces, found the decaying tree trunk, and arrived at the hiding spot. The medallion waits inside the hollowed ruin of what was once a living tree.