September 28 2018 Grey Doe Trail, RBG, Hamilton, ON. For a while this was just an ordinary September day’s birding, blustery breezy and late summerish. But it stopped being ordinary as fourteen Turkeys exploded in front of us when someone’s off-leash dog snuffled them out of a field. Until the dog scattered them they had been staying out of sight deep among goldenrods and asters. The dog’s owner seemed quite unconcerned, not in the least bit interested, almost as if that’s what dogs are supposed to do. Fourteen turkeys taking panicked flight, spraying out to all points of the compass is quite a spectacle and I wondered how long it would take them all to re-find each other; assuming they would. It was also a lesson in how much we miss because had the dog not flushed them we wouldn’t have even suspected their presence. But that was it for excitement for quite a while.
We made our way following a trail through a mature broadleaf woodland looking and listening hard for sight and sounds of birds. But other than non-stop Blue Jays, some far away Red-bellied Woodpeckers and a couple of Downy Woodpeckers it was quiet. Fall, migration is in full swing and there should be lots to see; I guess we werein the wrong place at the wrong time. Those Blue Jays kept up a steady background of shrieking as, in their dozens, they kept streaming south-westward, bent on leaving Ontario for somewhere with better winter prospects.
But then it all perked up when my companion motioned me to slow down. A thrush! she said, looking intently at the ground a few yards ahead while trying to tell me exactly where it was. She gave me a field-marks description: Brown back – eye ring,– nicely spotted breast. No wait, she said, Not a thrush, it’s an Ovenbird. Then I found it making its way slowly along a small branch at ground level. It paused and then flew a few yards and we followed its flight, staying on it. It moved again and still I followed hoping for a lucky photo (like these two below).
Ovenbirds are birds of the forest floor, heard much more often than seen, there is a ringing quality to the male’s territorial song as it belts out ‘Teacher-teacher-TEACHER-TEACHER’; at least that’s what it sounds like. Although it is actually a warbler, my companion’s initial reaction that she was looking at a thrush is understandable as the photo below (from another time) amply shows.
