Ruthven Park, Cayuga, ON. January 10 2025. It takes some persuading to get me outdoors for long in mid-January. It is a bleak and snow dusted countryside largely empty of birds. If I really put my mind to it, I’m sure I could find some Dark-eyed Juncos, American Tree Sparrows, Blue Jays, American Robins and, with a bit of effort, maybe Short-eared Owls and Rough-legged Hawk. A task for a day with a bit more light perhaps.
Today I took a friend to see a couple of quirky cemeteries tucked away in the grounds of Ruthven Park, a place that might count as a stately home, a nineteenth century relic anyway. I’m well acquainted with this place, having spent countless spring and fall hours at the bird observatory on its grounds. So half expecting, I took along my binoculars and camera just in case, I’m glad I did.
My companion had never been to Ruthven so, while he wandered off to explore, I made my way to check the bird feeders. Two surprises there: a large flock (20-30) of Brown-headed Cowbirds hungrily cleaning up debris cast from the feeder above and a couple of Tufted Titmouses.
The Brown-headed Cowbirds, North America’s most familiar nest parasite, really were a pleasant surprise. They get a bad rap for being a colourless blackish grey brown; for being largely tuneless; and for their brood-parasite free-love culture. I prefer to view them as another bird of summer albeit an extraordinarily interesting one. They arrive mostly unnoticed in mid spring, hang around idly through the breeding season and gather in late fall flocks who depart by December. Challenged by today’s off-season encounter I did a bit of checking and found a few other mid-winter local records. It seems we are on the fuzzy northern edge of their winter range so I don’t suppose my sighting will rock the bird record-keeping world, but I was taken aback – and wowed enough to call them my Birds of the Day.
A Tufted Titmouse can’t help being endearing. Even if it were the blood-thirstiest villain in the avian world, its wide-eyed, who-me? demeanor says otherwise, they make you want to love them. Today’s pair (I think there were two) seemed nervous, in view one second and gone the next so getting long looks and a photograph was difficult. The species is a year-round resident at Ruthven but is a bit of an outlier, like the cowbird, we are just at the fuzzy northern edge of its range and no doubt that elusiveness adds to the intrigue.
