Month: July 2012

July 29 2012.  “I haven’t yet seen a bird that made me say ‘Wow!’ “  I explained to my young companion as we left for home after a full morning.  We had visited several expanses of oozy mud, something birders get pleasure from at certain times of the year.  He had a spotting ‘scope so was able to see a few oddities that I didn’t, like Bairds and Stilt Sandpipers.  I have never really fallen for telescopes as an aid to finding and seeing birds, too often the image seems to be somehow unsatisfying; so if I can’t get it with binoculars, well there’s always another day.  We tallied about 40 species in the morning including Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Caspian and Common Terns, Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warblers, but really nothing that made me say Wow!  Until I got home that is, when perched and feeding happily on a faded sunflower head was this beautiful male American Goldfinch.  Wow!

July 28 2012.  I’ve previously noted that the seasons have changed, moving from spring-summer to high-summer. Singing birds are now pretty much silent; their priorities have changed from holding territory and feeding young to fattening up in anticipation of whatever the dark half of the year may hold.

Ferns in particular and trees and shrubs more generally are good reason for me to get out in the field and today I wanted to learn more about a large, low-lying woodland that is bisected by a wide, clean and slow moving creek.  No sooner had I found a shady spot for my car than a Great Blue Heron rose  heavily from a nearby drought diminished pond. To my surprise and pleasure, on checking the margins of this pond, I found a Northern Waterthrush searching for food among the debris .  It was happily moving along and bobbing like a small toy, its yellowish streaky breast and distinct eyebrow line were clear and plain to see in the full sun.  Seeing one like this was such a contrast to a month ago when, although I’d heard several waterthrushes, I could never quite find them in the dense woodlands they favour.  I knew right away that this would be my Bird of the Day; and it held up despite some nice encounters later with Eastern Wood Peewee, Savannah Sparrow, Red-eyed Vireo , Alder Flycatcher and Common Ravens .

We’ve had many weeks of drought so the wide creek was very low although its forest floodplain was still very soft.  Stepping from one seemingly firm spot to another I misjudged my footing and sunk deeply into the mud. In an achingly long struggle to remain vertical I could foresee myself toppling over and burying my camera, my binoculars and myself in the dark ooze.  Somehow I regained my balance and composure and then retraced my steps to reasonably solid ground. All of this came about because I was paying more attention to the ranks of scarlet Cardinal Flowers blooming along the creek bank.  Cardinal Flower is surely the most spectacular wild flower you’ll ever encounter, as I think this photo will attest.

July 25 2012.  To say that I went exploring would be to make more of this morning’s rambles than is justified; investigate would be a better choice of verb.  So I was investigating a stretch of country trail that I’d never walked before, and it was such an intriguing area that I really didn’t go very far.  Apart from time spent struggling to identify expanses of graceful ferns (which all seem to be nearly but not quite identical) I couldn’t resist long stops at series of man-made ponds, which at one time were the quarries for marlstone (a lime-rich mud used as a soil conditioner).  When I arrived the ponds were busy with birds but not dragonflies, but by late morning with the sun higher and warmer, it was just the opposite.

It was all very picturesque, ponds rimmed with trees and cattails and reflecting the clear blue sky. A single quiet Hooded Merganser watched me cautiously; in contrast a large group of nervous Mallards wasn’t taking any chances, those that could exploded into flight leaving two week-old youngsters to fend for themselves, which they did handily by scuttling furiously out of sight.  I watched an Eastern Kingbird sallying out from a conspicuous perch and catching large deer flies, while a small flock of Cedar Waxwings was swooping around and snapping up other flying insects.  Heard but not seen were: Swamp Sparrows, a Common Yellowthroat and American Goldfinches, which by the way, seem to have become increasingly vocal over the past few weeks.  Not that they’re particularly assertive in their song, at best a short string of tinkling notes: ‘Tee-dee  dee de”  or something like that, but this, their breeding season, is timed to coincide with an abundance of food such as thistle and sunflowers, and perhaps that has something to do with it.

My Bird of the Day was an unexpected Solitary Sandpiper found at the far side of one of these ponds, it was slowly working the edge picking at food and teetering whenever it paused in its search.  This sort of habitat, a small lake or pond among trees, is just the sort of spot they seek for breeding, although all of that happens well to the north of us, so this one is probably just an early southbound migrant. Solitary Sandpipers are well named, I have never seen more than one at a time, they’re just loners and they seem to be happy that way.

July 20 2012.  On this cool morning I wanted to the seasonal changes along one of my favourite walks; a cool, thick, densely wooded swamp that a month ago echoed with Canada Warbler, Veery and Northern Water Thrush song.  All had gone quiet as expected except for distant Winter Wren and White-throated Sparrow songs.

Walking down the rough trail on the way to the wood I listened carefully to Song Sparrows singing at each other.  I use the preposition ‘at’ deliberately because although for us their songs are familiar, there’s a lot more going on.  Song Sparrows’ songs are among the most studied by scientists and I understand that adjacent Song Sparrows’ (SOSP) territories are delineated by songs, which, while they may sound much the same to us, in fact deliver powerful, distinctly important messages.  Like this:                                                                     SOSP 1 “I’m Jack. This is my place stay away”.                                                              SOSP 2 “This is Ron. This my place you stay away too”                                                    SOSP 1 “I’m Jack. This is my place stay away – just a reminder”.                                      SOSP 2 “This is Ron. This is my place. Don’t you forget it either.”                                    SOSP 3 “Steve here. This is my place, both you guys better stay away.”                           SOSP 1 “Jack again. This is my place stay away”. Etc. etc.                                                  And perhaps they even include the avian equivalents of: “ My dad is stronger than yours.” or “Oh Yeah?  Well my dad is bigger than yours.” I don’t know. But I’ve discovered that listening is more rewarding than just hearing.

July 18 2012. One of the best ways to see lots of birds is to not move.  By that I don’t mean stay at home and watch T.V.  I mean get out of the house, go somewhere with a mix of habitat, get comfortable, sit, stay, and watch.

After a scorchingly hot few days I needed to stretch my legs and went looking for migrant shorebirds.  I ended up at a convenient lookout elevated over a cattail marsh with a vista across a sluggish creek to a small island, a large expanse of mudflats and another large body of water beyond; all of this surrounded by hardwood forests.  I sat for nearly three hours; just watching!  The weather was perfect, a light breeze and hazy cloud and many avian mini-dramas unfolding. I made a lot of field notes here’s what I wrote:

“Herring Gull wrestling with a dead (?) catfish or perhaps a carp.  Struggling, tugging and occasionally recoiling, but it’s a meal.  Its cry reminds me of an Atlantic harbour.

“Hearing a distant Swamp Sparrow stridently chiming at the edge of the marsh, and far off across the creek, a Marsh Wren chattering.

“A flock of 15 Lesser Yellowlegs found marching across the mudflats, every now and then they pick up and move fifty yards, their long legs trailing in brief flights.

“Scattered Least Sandpipers skittering and picking at the mud, lots of them but individuals, not in flocks.

“A Caspian Tern has caught a fish that’s way too big to eat easily, but too good to give up.  It keeps looking up and back fearing losing the fish to a marauding gull or even another Caspian. It has a legs-astride stance as it struggles to control the meal and stay alert.

“A Great Egret swoops in low.  Slow in flight but lands like a ballerina and stalks gracefully, picking up each foot slowly and carefully.  A surprise, haven’t seen one here since last summer, so Bird of the Day!

“Cautious approach of a Great Blue Heron from around the end of the island, then carefully pacing, stalking something, eyes it carefully judging distance then moves on; not edible I guess.

“Five Hooded Mergansers, a tough identification, floating low in the water almost submerged. Working together in a tight group, diving, plunging and fluttering the water.  A difficult i.d; so active and colourless.  Not until one eventually got up onto a rock was I sure.  A learning experience, I’ve never noticed the low-in-the-water, almost submerged behaviour before. And small; maybe youngsters.

“Caspian Terns in a tight pursuit, like two sharp-winged Ws swooping high and wide against a blue sky.  One making a coarse growling sound.”

And the morning also included Red-eyed Vireos calling endlessly in the forest canopy, spaced, it seems, equally about 100M apart, a Rose–breasted Grosbeak still in full colour and a couple of Woodland Turkeys trying not to be seen.  Not many shorebirds as it turns out; but an endorsement of just sitting and letting the birdlife happen.