29 June 2013. Flamborough ON. Continuing my education in ferns, I stopped at a small watercourse that bisects a swampy woodland hoping I might catch sight of a few bird species that I felt sure would be around. I could hear several odd chips, clucks and sighs coming from deep in the mosquitos’ realm. At this stage of spring-turned summer such bird sounds are mostly contact notes between parents and young, essential bits of communications with messages like: “I’m here and hungry.” “Food’s coming, stay there.” Or, “Danger. Don’t move.”
A sharp chip led my gaze to an anxious Northern Waterthrush hopping around just in front of me, another joined it, also chipping, and then another. My presence was clearly unwelcome so I moved on. Northern Waterthrushes are recognized as a New World wood warbler although their brown and cream colours set them apart visually from many of the much more celebrated and sought after drama kings and queens. Still I like this bird, I like its splattery, emphatic spring song, its propensity to check you out if you get too close and its bouncy tail-bobbing posture; it was my Bird of the Day for all of those endearing qualities.
I caught sight of a Common Yellowthroat retreating into a thicket of willow and heard a couple of far off Great Crested Flycatchers, a late singing Wood Thrush and a loud and confidently singing Carolina Wren.
There were Veerys too and I came across one that surprised me by its boldness; it was carrying food and perched conspicuously in the open and called repeatedly a bold “Few”. After a while I reasoned that it was delivering food, perhaps to a nest rather than to a fledged youngster, and the loud calling was advance announcement of its arrival. I’m not sure whether my presence prompted extra caution, I sensed not because a little later when I had moved well away, I again heard it announcing a food delivery. They are usually rather shy, even reclusive, birds but this one most definitely was not.
