Month: May 2012

May 29, 2012.  Last year a Prairie Warbler was found about a 30 minute drive from home, it appeared to be on territory, so rather interesting.  Prairie Warblers are uncommon in Ontario; in fact the sighting of one is a celebratory event.  Today I decided to go and see if last year’s bird had returned to the same site.  It was a very worthwhile trip because I found one and then perhaps 2 more in the same general area.

It was quite hot today and my daughter’s Black Labrador was shuffling slowly along beside me.  He’s a good companion who stays within a few yards of me at all times; just as well, I wouldn’t want an unruly or undisciplined dog spoiling the experience.  We are well into a prolonged drought, one that started late last year and played a large part in giving us such a mild and snow-free winter.  Most rivers and creeks are shrunken, and while everything looks green and lush right now, the heat of summer will do a lot of damage unless we get enough rain to recharge groundwater levels.   I mention this because the Prairie Warbler’s territory lies close to a march of power lines where the soil is thin and the vegetation scrubby.  Along the way I noted many herbaceous plants withering; when plants wilt for lack water, it’s okay, wilting can be reversed, but withering cannot.

As I walked I watched a Brown Thrasher singing loudly from a the top of a dead elm, Thrashers thrive in scrubby habitat like this; but little else was singing, perhaps because it was mid-afternoon. To cut a long story (and walk) short I eventually heard the distinctive rising buzz of a Prairie Warbler, it’s a song low on volume that seems to carry well despite that.  The song is a fast, buzzy trill that rises to a sudden staccato ending: “doo doo dee dee dee de de ddd ee”. I found the bird with little effort and was able to walk to within a few yards of him and get some photos. Very suddenly his song changed and he flew off quickly to intercept 2 more small birds flying nearby; perhaps they too were Prairie Warblers, which gives me hope that there may be a small breeding population here.

May 27th 2012. I have a goal to explore more of a rural municipality nearby, one rich in swampy forests, marshes and upland fields.  The landscape owes much of its natural and scenic interest to post-glacial land forms, features such as drumlins, eskers and other ice-sheet leftovers that have trapped water between abrupt hills and ensure meandering courses for the many rivers and creeks.

This morning, long before most people were up and about, I decided to walk a long but straight path that started at the top of a hill and then plunged into a low flat and wet valley.  The view at the top was wonderful and almost endless, a convenient bench is there for a very good reason.  Wide fields of grass, still uncut (& I hope they stay that way for a while yet) support Bobolinks, Savannah Sparrows and Eastern Meadowlarks; all were singing.  It was a morning of bird song because the hedgerow was home to singing Yellow Warblers, a House Wren and a pair of Eastern Kingbirds that flew from treetop to treetop making their distinctive clinking tin can sound.

At the bottom of the hill the wide, dry path continued straight through dense wet woodland that was lively with the songs of Gray Catbirds, Eastern Wood Peewees and several Northern Waterthrushes.  I couldn’t really see any of them, the woods are so dense that anything beyond 6 feet away is pretty much out of sight.  The Northern Waterthrush has a sharp, loud, assertive song; sometimes described as  “Three-three-three twotwotwo oneone”. Or “Twit twit twit-sweet sweet sweet-tew tew tew.”  I tried to draw one closer to me with some sharp chip sounds, but without luck. I have sometimes found Northern Waterthrushes to be quick to investigate intruders (like this rather blurry one in my only photograph of a waterthrush ), but not today; at least not that I could see.  I contented myself with knowing they were there, just like a Canada Warbler and a Veery, both heard singing but not seen.

The Veery was Bird of the Day despite staying out of sight, which was a bit of a shame because it is a subtle and graceful thrush, shy and quick to move away.  It has a warm rufous-chestnut back and head and an almost clear cream breast marked only by a hint of spots.  A Veery’s song can stop you in your tracks; you just have to listen;  it attracts descriptions like ethereal, flute-like, somewhat mournful, and downward spiraling. It’s a breathy exhaled “Viuw, Veeer vir v’r v’r  vr r” fading away into the forest.

May 25 2012.  They are such an elusive bird, and it’s such an event when you see one that most birders kind of gush with enthusiasm about seeing either of Yellow–billed and Black–billed Cuckoos. They are both late-spring migrants probably because their preferred food is caterpillars, both are tough birds to get a really good look at; they seem to move slowly and carefully out of sight behind any maddeningly thick fan of leaves.  Sometimes they’ll remain still for a long time, perhaps assessing or stalking a morsel of food, then just when you think it’s really not there at all, it flies quickly to another obscure tree-top hiding place.

Birders are more likely to hear their characteristic and strange songs, better described as vocalizations.  Pete Dunne in his excellent book cleverly describes the Yellow-billed Cuckoo’s vocalization as “… a low loud clucking that starts fast and insistent, and loses speed and interest at the end: Kluk luclucluclucluc luc luc k’lowp k’lowp k’lowp.”  And the Black-billed Cuckoo he says makes a “…slow k’awp k’awp k’awp that is similar to the Yellow-billed but faster, higher pitched, and less coarse.”  I admire his (or anyone’s) ability to transcribe bird vocalizations into word-ish forms.

Today at the bird observatory a strong south wind seemed to repress most bird life, although in the shelter of the creek valley there was plenty to listen to; mostly resident birds on territory. A Blue–winged Warbler was doing the rounds of its property calling its inhale-exhale “zzzzz- buzz” from hard-to-find perches.  Also Eastern Wood Peewees, Great–crested Flycatchers and Red–eyed Vireos were patrolling their treetops.  A Gray Catbird had me fooled for a while with its imitation of a Black-capped Chickadee, and the longer I listened to him the more I could pick up phrases from the songs of Robins and Blue Jays.  An unseen bird was calling softly from low in the forest, it’s repetitive call was  “pit sa,- pit sa “ and my conclusion was a probable Acadian Flycatcher.  But only probable because missing was the explosive and insistent tone that marks an Acadian Flycatcher. Oh well.

Bird of the Day was a Yellow–billed Cuckoothat was trapped in a mist net, removed, banded and sent on its way, it was a truly elegant bird, a long handful, subtly coloured in grey, light cream with a reddish tinge to its primary flight feathers;- and a yellow bill of course.

May 20 2012.  As a rule there are no Golden Pheasants in Ontario except perhaps in a petting zoo or wildfowl park; or so I thought.  But today was evidently made for breaking rules; now there’s one at Rondeau Provincial Park!.  I was up at dawn walking a quiet path at the south end of Rondeau, listening to the many warblers, peewees and thrushes when a Golden Pheasant wandered my way. It was in the middle of the path and walking straight towards me.  It was apparently oblivious to a whole host of incongruities: the absurdity of the moment, its exposure to any of a number of predators and the fact that it really should be in western China.  I’m sure I was more baffled by the pheasant than the pheasant was by me.  We passed and nodded a Good Morning to each other, and as I stood there looking back agape and scratching my head, the pheasant just kept walking; off to see about a cup of coffee or something like that I suppose.

Later I stopped at the park’s interpretive centre and tried to appear blasé when I asked about the pheasant.  I expected them to say something like: “Oh that! We see him around the picnic areas all the time.”  But they didn’t.  Instead they were flabbergasted, one of them turned and yelled for Steve, the park’s birding guru.  Steve appeared and shared their bemusement, then slowly started to retrieve a distant memory of someone losing a pheasant a couple of years ago.  Why anyone would bring a pheasant to Rondeau Provincial Park is beyond me, but stranger things happen.  If someone’s loss is the explanation, then this bird has survived for two years or more, mixing in with all the other local fauna, without a hope of finding a mate and just hanging around. Most odd.

Other than that it was a bird-rich day again with Canada, Magnolia and Tennessee Warblers passing through.  At a nearby marshy pond a mud flat was host to dozens of Ruddy Turnstones, Black–bellied Plovers and Dunlins.  I also watched and photographed this obliging Willow Flycatcher who was happily singing its trademark ‘Fitz-bew’ song.

May 21 2012.  One of my most productive ways to see birds is to find an opening in the forest, somewhere with lots of edge habitat, lots of cover, maybe some water and preferably quiet and well lit.  I find a reasonably commanding spot to sit or stand still; then I let the forest relax.  Yesterday when I did this all was quiet for a long time, but what I didn’t realize was that I had parked myself within a few feet of a fledgling American Robin, spotted and spiky with a stubbly emerging tail.  It too was just sitting silently on a branch but it was waiting to be fed; no doubt the parents knew where it and all of its siblings were.  When the adult male arrived and saw me all hell broke loose, he started clucking and squealing urgently, the sort of loud and insistent alarm calls you hear when a cat strolls through a robin’s urban territory.  Birds’ alarm calls like this attract other birds to find out what the problem is; maybe they’re there to help out, I’m not sure.  Within moments yet more robins arrived, but the parent robin couldn’t tolerate their presence for a second and fiercely drove them off.  Then in came a Gray Catbird, a female Red–winged Blackbird, male and female Common Yellowthroats, Baltimore Orioles, and Yellow Warblers.  Then two warblers I’d be straining to find: a handsome male Canada Warbler and an American Redstart, and lastly an Eastern Towhee.  All of them came to within a few yards of where I sat.

Today I tried the same technique but had little success, although I did hear the call of a Yellow–billed Cuckoofrom above and behind me.  Cuckoos are a little mysterious, they arrive towards the end of the spring migration and seem to move secretively, dodging from one hiding place, high in a well-leafed deciduous tree, to another; glimpses are what you get.  The European Cuckoo is well known for its onomatopoeic call and for being an obligate brood parasite; it always lays its eggs in the nests of other birds.  Like its American cousins it is handsomely plumaged and in flight brings to mind a falcon: slender, fast and with pointed wings.

Later I stopped for a coffee to reflect on a successful day’s birding which had included Mourning, Magnolia, Wilsons, and Hooded Warblers as well as an Olive–sided Flycatcher, Philadelphia Vireo and Ruby–throated Hummingbird. Sitting at a picnic table looking across open parkland I spotted a sleek, fast moving falcon; or so I thought.  But a moment’s thought and I knew I was seeing a Yellow–billed Cuckoo. I scooped up my coffee, binoculars and camera and moved closer.  With a bit of neck craning I managed to find this elegant bird high in a cottonwood tree. After all of those warblers and vireos the cuckoo was a nice change and my Bird of the Day.