Author: Peter T

2 December 2013. Puslinch ON. Not a birding day for me, just an odds and ends sort of day.  But it included a trip to one of my best birding spots where (please hear my confession) we like to snip a few stalks of Red Osier Dogwood and White Pine; front porch decorations you see. As we walked up a trail I spotted something large and stark white atop a bare maple, sunlit against an approaching bank of charcoal grey storm clouds it was very striking.  I’d left my binoculars at home (not a birding day remember) and regretted it, but I imagine it was a Red-tailed Hawk, although I’ll never know.

Later, as we walked back to the car, we heard the unmistakable, throaty-bass Crwaaark of a Common Raven coming our way.  Turning to watch, it flew overhead and disappeared in seconds; but as Ravens do, it seemed to fly as if blown along by a following wind.  It called again, this time using its surprised voice: Crqueeekt!  And then it was gone.  Bird of the Day I exclaimed.  It was.

29 November 2013. Niagara River, ON.  I drove along the Niagara Parkway today, an easy-drive of a road that parallels the Niagara River as it hastens to its much-appreciated headlong plunge.  A bright blue-sky day marred only by a inch or two of snow which, while technically permitted since it is winter, is far too early for my taste.  But it was an entertaining drive because I saw lots of waterfowl, some real and some fake, and watched a building burn down.

The photo above might at first glance look like a gracious riverside residential scene with a scattering of ducks gathered around a blob in the water.   I stopped to take a closer look and was delighted to discover that the ducks were Canvasbacks, a favourite of mine because of their rather regal demeanour; but it was the blob in the water that demanded more study.  I couldn’t quite make out what it was, maybe a stranded oil drum (possible but rather too large) or the wreckage of a submarine (hardly likely) or a mid-stream rocky shoal (possible).  But there was something on it, something moving; every now and then a seal-flipper-like appendage waved briefly.  Well, I was quite baffled for a while until one of those flipper moves had a distinctly anthropomorphic look about it; then I got it.  It’s a duck hunter lying prone in a flat-bottomed scow trying to look natural among his anchored flotilla of Canvasback decoys.  Of course I have no idea how successful he was or even if he survived the day, for if his scow should break away from its moorings it would be something like a forty-five minute hi-speed ride from here to the edge of the world-famous waterfall and a mere three second drop to the rocks below, duck decoys in tow or no.

Other ducks and related waterfowl were abundant, particularly Mallards, Lesser Scaup, Redheads and a couple of Tundra Swans. Large stringy flocks of Bonapartes Gulls swirled around dipping delicately at the water’s surface for food.  Best and perhaps most surprising were a group of Horned Grebes close to shore.  One of them had me baffled for a while, it was swimming a little farther out and its neck was extended to its tallest, and I wondered if in fact I’d found a wintering Red-necked Grebe which would, I think, have been extraordinary.  But in the end I was convinced that they were all Horned Grebes in winter attire.  Not a species to provoke hard-core list-makers to stir from their slumbers, but they made me exclaim Wow! and that is the test by which I measure my Bird of the Day.

Finally, to my astonishment I found myself among a battery of fire trucks and police cars, and I watched as a once elegant, turn-of-the-century, downtown building burned to the ground.  It’s a chilling experience to watch someone’s home or livelihood destroyed by fire, but the smoke blackened “Nightclub” sign told a story of a building that had almost certainly seen much better days.

This post contains photos only visible if you’re on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.

26 November 2013. Burlington, ON.   I’m really not sure why I’m writing this, except that I saw a couple of American Goldfinches in our back yard today and was delighted and impressed by them.  Goldfinches are a bit of an enigma at the moment because the bird observatory where I spend and inordinate amount of time, has witnessed a crash in numbers. I quote from the Ruthven blog, “…On the other hand the 198 American Goldfinches banded was 340 less than our average going back to 1999. “ There seems to something amiss.

Anyway, as I left the house a couple of goldfinches flew up into the cedars chiming their tinkling calls as they vanished.  Nothing remarkable in that, except that they were almost the only birds I saw today.  Seeing them reminded me of a handful of American Goldfinches from a couple of months ago, the memory of which enhanced today’s encounter.  With a snowstorm pending and early flurries of sleet in the air, not much of anything was moving, It was a grey, bare sort of November day, doing exactly what it’s mother told it to, we deserve goldfinches at a time like this, so here are a few from that September day.  Perhaps that’s why I’m writing this.

This post contains photos only visible if you’re on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.

 

25 November 2013. Burlington Bay, ON.  There is a sheltered corner of our large industrial harbour where thousands of ducks and swans gather for the winter.  It would be a stretch to suppose that this little haven owes its attractiveness entirely to its natural attributes: sheltered from north winds and shallow weedy waters; but it’s very much a man-made spot with a busy spring-summer-&-fall marina, fish-friendly artificial rocky reefs and perhaps most importantly, for the ducks and swans anyway, the almost industrial scale of grain handouts.

It’s a good place with plenty of waterfowl variety including Canvasbacks, Redheads, Bufflehead, Tundra Swans and early migrant Horned Grebes to name a few.  Not surprisingly odd species show up almost every year: last winter it was a male Wood Duck, and the winter before a King Eider.  It reminds me of the oft-cited aphorism about the weather, if you don’t like the ducks, wait a half hour and they’ll change.

It has become the premier overwintering spot for Ontario’s small population of Trumpeter Swans and I went to see if they’d arrived for their winter handouts yet.  About a dozen had and I’m sure the others aren’t far behind.  Making a sweeping binocular scan across the waters it seemed to be all Mallards out there.  The odd American Coot, Scaup and a Red-breasted Merganser, but hundreds of Mallards.  I noticed how the male Mallards’ heads, if turned just the right way, shone in the sun; so the picture at any one spot was punctuated by bright iridescent green heads.  Here’s a handsome group, handsome enough to make them Bird of the Day, nicer even than the returned  Trumpeter Swans.

This post contains photos only visible if you’re on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.

20 November 2013. Woodland Cemetery and Burlington Bay, ON.  Funny thing about owls, and perhaps winter birds in general, is how predictable, how performance-on-command some of them can be.  I fell for it today by stopping by a damaged Silver Maple where a Eastern Screech Owl was a popular celebrity last winter.  It’s back and has appropriated a hole where a branch tore away in some violent storm.

I wasn’t the only sightseer; I’ll leave it at that.  Anyway, Screech Owls come in two colours or morphs: red and gray, this is a red morph just in case anyone asks you, it is a marvelous bird and an obliging photo subject.

The owl was just one of a handful of worth-stopping-for birds today.  A handsome Hooded Merganser, a Redhead and to a lesser extent a rather sad Double-crested Cormorant all challenged my camera skills.

The cormorant was a sorry sight.  It really should be long gone from these chilly parts by now.  It would be hanging around a catfish farm in Louisiana or Arkansas if it knew what was good for it; or if it could fly – which I came to realize it probably can’t.  But perhaps because of a physical disability it’s still here and I’d lay odds that it won’t survive the winter.  I’m not a fan of cormorants but I took rather a liking to this one, partly because of its plight and partly because of how easy it is to make out the arrangement of feathers on its wings.  You may need an illustration from a bird guide to follow along, but the precise configuration of its primary and secondary flight feathers, primary, greater, median and lesser coverts are all there to see.