My Bird of the Day

May 19. 2025. Churchill Park, Hamilton, ON. Canada.  I’m writing this while the thrill of finding a Mourning Warbler is still aglow.  To get right to the point, my companion and I were two-thirds of the way around a transect route, we paused to listen for a hinted-at Great-crested Flycatcher struggling to tease apart the cascade of bird sound and song around us.  Straining, I caught a clear three or four note chant that brought me up with a start. I couldn’t quite bring it to mind (and it was not the flycatcher) although in my mind’s eye I could nearly picture it.  Turning on Merlin, the bird song app, I hoped for help; Mourning Warbler it said, and yes between us we nailed it.

It took a few minutes, and we finally managed to coax the bird to come our way, and then it showed itself in textbook fashion. It was a male in fine breeding plumage. I doubt the bird cared much what we looked like, but we were almost speechless with admiration of it. Photos here are from a decade or so ago, perhaps the last time I was privileged with lingering looks at a Mourning Warbler.

This Mourning Warbler episode really topped off what was nevertheless a very rewarding three hours.  It’s mid-late May and while many birds have settled into brood rearing, just as many are still making their way north, following the back end of winter.   We’d had lots of high points: A large flock of Chimney Swifts, perhaps 30 or 40, circling and weaving to feed on aerial insects; Countless Warbling and Red–eyed Vireos, Rose–breasted Grosbeaks, Baltimore Orioles and at least two Scarlet Tanagers competing in song to claim the upper layers of forest;  A handful of Black–throated Blue Warblers, Northern Parulas and Tennessee Warblers were heard but not seen.

It was quite simply just a great morning immersed in the best of spring birding with a hard-to-beat, Bird of the Day Mourning Warbler.

April 21. 2025. Royal Botanical Gardens, Hamilton, ON. Canada. April can be such a tease, it promises so much but delivers too little too often. School days’ geography lessons taught me about our continental climate: “….characterized by significant annual temperature variations, with cold winters and warm to hot summers, and typically found in the interior of continents, away from the moderating influence of oceans.” Well, that’s us and the more you read about them the more subsets of continental climates you’ll find.

Two early mornings of birding have turned up some spring arrival delights. Yesterday I walked some hilly trails and, trudging my way up a mid-winter toboggan hill cut through thick brush, I could hear White-throated Sparrows and Ruby–crowned Kinglets whispering among themselves, and then spotted a little movement of pale yelllow in the undergrowth. It soon emerged to surprise me as a Pine Warbler. I patted myself on the back for identifying it because we don’t associate Pine Warblers with undergrowth – rather we usually only hear them unseen among the upper levels of White Pines. So, this was a lovely sighting, albeit brief.  Then I came to realize there were many more of them on either side of the toboggan run, I counted five or six, and they were all singing, staying in touch. Pine Warblers sing a short, sweet if somewhat dry trill, like that of a Chipping Sparrow. Those three: sparrows, kinglets and Pine Warblers, were all in the same area and a little later several Yellow–rumped Warblers, firsts of the year, appeared and I warmly welcomed them too. They all must have swept in overnight on a wave of warm weather, evidence that winter is on its way out, and it went through my head that the Pine Warbler would surely be My Bird of the Day, but then other stuff crowded in.Pine Warbler mid summer

Today winter let me know it is not leaving without a fight. With cold rain threatening I hastened around a different series of trails. Perhaps because of my haste it was not great birding; never mind, it was good for the soul.

We hear much about nature as a cure. “ …The idea that as people, especially children, spend less time outdoors than formerly, this contributes to a range of mental and physical issues like attention deficit disorders and obesity.”  I don’t need persuading.  A case in point was hearing and then finding a Brown Thrasher this morning, it topped-up my reservoir of bird-song goodwill. There was plenty of background clatter: Red-winged Blackbirds, American Robins, the wind, and distant road traffic, but through it all, fighting to be heard, came a familiar song.

I mentally reached for it: Northern Mockingbird I wondered? Uncommon but possible; Perhaps a Gray Catbird? Also possible but not quite; Then gradually I picked out the clear phrases of a Brown Thrasher.  I turn to Cornell Lab of Ornithology for this description of its song, “Apart from being variably inventive the song is distinctive for usually having each phrase uttered twice, rather famously described as: “plant-a-seed, plant-a-seed, bury-it, bury-it, cover-it-up, cover-it-up, let-it-grow, let-it-grow, pull-it-up, pull-it-up, eat-it, eat-it, yum-yum”.

It took a minute or two and a bit of care working around some old fallen fence wire, but finally I managed to get a good long look at the bird.  For me it was a raw blustery day but apparently the thrasher didn’t mind.  Flying from bare treetop to open shrub it was just delivering its song and was My Bird of the Day.

April 18. 2025. Hendrie Valley. Royal Botanical Gardens, Burlington, ON. Canada. I have many times mentioned or featured a certain Eastern Screech Owl in these pages, most recently just six months ago.

Always a screech owl, always regarding the world from the same hole in a tree, but not necessarily the same bird.  It intrigues me to know there has been more than one individual. Eastern Screech Owls come in two colour choices, grey and rufous-red.  Usually we see a grey individual but every now and then it’s a rufous one. I’m a bit baffled.

Well maybe two birds share this safe daytime roost, in there together, or maybe not; maybe they are a mated pair; or siblings, who switch around; and perhaps they have several snug retreats. It does puzzle me. The bird(s) and this place have become well known among walkers, birders and photographers and the hole they occupy is very close to, and quite high above, a well-trafficked trail, the occupant-of-the-day is best observed from some distance away.

Things changed today: instead of an owl, the hole had been claimed, or was being investigated, by a pair of Wood Ducks;  they are cavity nesters and abundant in the valley. A female sat at the entrance peering out at the world while her mate was perched just a few feet above her.

If they succeed in taking possession and rearing a brood it is conveniently close to a pond. Wood Ducklings usually leave the nest within a day of hatching. When conditions are right, the female flies from the nest cavity to the ground or water below and begins calling softly, the ducklings scramble to the entrance and leap to the female waiting below. They are small and so light they almost float down and have been known to jump 80 m to the ground without injury.

Observation of the owl(s) at this hole have always been made during the colder months of the year, September through to April, and I’ve often wondered if the hole is only a cold weather roost, perhaps unsuitable as a nest site, so maybe the owls have vacated it for the spring/summer season to go elsewhere to nest. Time may tell; will the Wood Ducks successfully appropriate the cavity, and if so, will the owl(s) let it go without a fight.

April 6. 2025. Royal Botanical Gardens, Cootes Paradise, Hamilton, ON. Canada. Ordinarily I would not choose two-degree, brisk-northerly-wind weather to go birding. But I’d committed myself to one of our transect walks, which meant a couple of hours walking a defined route and recording all birds seen and heard, only today with gloves and a wooly hat pulled over my ears.

It nevertheless got off to a good start, for as soon as I got out of my car I could hear an Eastern Phoebe calling: an abrupt ‘FeeBee’, repeated at something like 10-second intervals, and non-stop for as long as I was within earshot.  Phoebe’s have nested annually in and around the Nature Centre and the gardens. They seek nest sites sheltered by an overhang, often in a porch or under a bridge and their nests are an untidy assemblage of grasses and twigs.  They are a welcome flycatcher, always an early spring returnee and not at all shy about it.

Wandering on down to the lake I prepared myself to have to count distant duck-like shapes and there were many Buffleheads, Lesser Scaup and Ruddy Ducks.  The latter, Ruddy Ducks, are attractive just-passing-through visitors, they nest in the mid-continent prairie ponds and lakes.  In 1948 someone thought they’d be an interesting ornamental introduction to English lakes and gardens, the Ruddys were quite happy to go along with it and promptly started breeding with the closely related Eurasian White-headed Duck.  The hybrid offspring were fertile and back-crosses kept the process going.  Before long the Ruddys had genetically swamped the White-heads.  Aided and abetted by extensive drainage of their favoured habitat in Central Asia, the White-headed Duck is now considered endangered.

My Birds of the Day came when I scanned the open waters of the lake and was astonished to see a long, dense flock of white birds resting on the water, hundreds of them. It took a moment until I’d processed the clues and realized I was looking at a flock of Bonaparte’s Gulls.

Bonapartes are dainty visitors, and I have often seen small groups of them in spring-flooded fields, always in early April. They migrate in huge flocks in some parts of the continent, but I was happy enough with my very rough estimate of 200, maybe 400, birds.  Something happened to stir them, and they rose together in a large, white flashing-wings flock and headed west. Quite breathtaking.

Well after such a good start to the morning things seemed a little quiet, but it did warm up and I was able to pocket my gloves.

March 27. 2025. Hendrie Valley. Royal Botanical Gardens, Burlington, ON. Canada. Another chance golden day, too good to waste on the trappings of urban living. Far better spent looking for birds; and where better than my favourite valley.

I was hardly out of my car and could hear American Robin song and Blue Jay screeching. Black–capped Chickadees were pleased to see me thinking I’d come with peanut handouts but were wrong. The tally for the day built quickly with Dark–eyed Junco, White–breasted Nuthatch and Northern Cardinal, all regulars and to be expected. And, then a surprise.

As I stood listening and watching, absorbing this bit of early spring, an unfamiliar scratchy bark made me pay attention. Looking up I saw a crow-sized bird moving through the open treetops and almost immediately knew it was either a Cooper’s or Sharp-shinned Hawk, they’re closely related and look-alikes except for size differences . Well, it was a Cooper’s Hawk, and I watched it make its way to the top of a White Pine where it had a nest – or at least the start of one, an untidy platform of twigs.  The thing about Coooper’s Hawks, like many predators, is that they have an aura of noble bearing about them, at least in our minds. Coooper’s dominate as predators of smaller birds and rodents which they often capture by ambush or high-speed chase, nobility being irrelevant. Over the past few decades, Cooper’s Hawks along with the Merlins have become increasingly common nesters in our suburban and urban landscapes. It was almost bound to be My Bird of the Day, not much else comes close as an attention-getter at this time of year.

As winter’s ice has faded, Red–winged Blackbirds, Canada Geese, Mallards, Trumpeter Swans, Belted Kingfishers and Wood Ducks have started staking out their little piece of the valley and I was pleased, though not surprised, to see an Eastern Screech–Owl sunning itself at its arboreal doorway.  I first saw a Screech Owl at that roosting/nesting spot in April 2018, and it or its roommates have been there since, and who knows for how long before.

To those already noted above I added Song, White–throated, and American Tree Sparrows. Two woodpecker species, Downy and Red–bellied Woodpeckers, a low drifting Turkey Vulture, a Red–tailed Hawk circling way up and I spotted another Cooper’s Hawk hunting treetops.

My two-hour hike ended up with twenty-eight species, good enough for March and certainly good for the inner man.