Author: Peter T

May 20 2012.  As a rule there are no Golden Pheasants in Ontario except perhaps in a petting zoo or wildfowl park; or so I thought.  But today was evidently made for breaking rules; now there’s one at Rondeau Provincial Park!.  I was up at dawn walking a quiet path at the south end of Rondeau, listening to the many warblers, peewees and thrushes when a Golden Pheasant wandered my way. It was in the middle of the path and walking straight towards me.  It was apparently oblivious to a whole host of incongruities: the absurdity of the moment, its exposure to any of a number of predators and the fact that it really should be in western China.  I’m sure I was more baffled by the pheasant than the pheasant was by me.  We passed and nodded a Good Morning to each other, and as I stood there looking back agape and scratching my head, the pheasant just kept walking; off to see about a cup of coffee or something like that I suppose.

Later I stopped at the park’s interpretive centre and tried to appear blasé when I asked about the pheasant.  I expected them to say something like: “Oh that! We see him around the picnic areas all the time.”  But they didn’t.  Instead they were flabbergasted, one of them turned and yelled for Steve, the park’s birding guru.  Steve appeared and shared their bemusement, then slowly started to retrieve a distant memory of someone losing a pheasant a couple of years ago.  Why anyone would bring a pheasant to Rondeau Provincial Park is beyond me, but stranger things happen.  If someone’s loss is the explanation, then this bird has survived for two years or more, mixing in with all the other local fauna, without a hope of finding a mate and just hanging around. Most odd.

Other than that it was a bird-rich day again with Canada, Magnolia and Tennessee Warblers passing through.  At a nearby marshy pond a mud flat was host to dozens of Ruddy Turnstones, Black–bellied Plovers and Dunlins.  I also watched and photographed this obliging Willow Flycatcher who was happily singing its trademark ‘Fitz-bew’ song.

May 21 2012.  One of my most productive ways to see birds is to find an opening in the forest, somewhere with lots of edge habitat, lots of cover, maybe some water and preferably quiet and well lit.  I find a reasonably commanding spot to sit or stand still; then I let the forest relax.  Yesterday when I did this all was quiet for a long time, but what I didn’t realize was that I had parked myself within a few feet of a fledgling American Robin, spotted and spiky with a stubbly emerging tail.  It too was just sitting silently on a branch but it was waiting to be fed; no doubt the parents knew where it and all of its siblings were.  When the adult male arrived and saw me all hell broke loose, he started clucking and squealing urgently, the sort of loud and insistent alarm calls you hear when a cat strolls through a robin’s urban territory.  Birds’ alarm calls like this attract other birds to find out what the problem is; maybe they’re there to help out, I’m not sure.  Within moments yet more robins arrived, but the parent robin couldn’t tolerate their presence for a second and fiercely drove them off.  Then in came a Gray Catbird, a female Red–winged Blackbird, male and female Common Yellowthroats, Baltimore Orioles, and Yellow Warblers.  Then two warblers I’d be straining to find: a handsome male Canada Warbler and an American Redstart, and lastly an Eastern Towhee.  All of them came to within a few yards of where I sat.

Today I tried the same technique but had little success, although I did hear the call of a Yellow–billed Cuckoofrom above and behind me.  Cuckoos are a little mysterious, they arrive towards the end of the spring migration and seem to move secretively, dodging from one hiding place, high in a well-leafed deciduous tree, to another; glimpses are what you get.  The European Cuckoo is well known for its onomatopoeic call and for being an obligate brood parasite; it always lays its eggs in the nests of other birds.  Like its American cousins it is handsomely plumaged and in flight brings to mind a falcon: slender, fast and with pointed wings.

Later I stopped for a coffee to reflect on a successful day’s birding which had included Mourning, Magnolia, Wilsons, and Hooded Warblers as well as an Olive–sided Flycatcher, Philadelphia Vireo and Ruby–throated Hummingbird. Sitting at a picnic table looking across open parkland I spotted a sleek, fast moving falcon; or so I thought.  But a moment’s thought and I knew I was seeing a Yellow–billed Cuckoo. I scooped up my coffee, binoculars and camera and moved closer.  With a bit of neck craning I managed to find this elegant bird high in a cottonwood tree. After all of those warblers and vireos the cuckoo was a nice change and my Bird of the Day.

May 19 2012.  Rondeau Provincial Park seems to take second place to Point Pelee as a birders’ destination. For my part I prefer Rondeau for two reasons: I rather dislike crowds, and a friend offers us free accommodation at Rondeau. Rondeau, Point Pelee and Long Point are the three sandy peninsulas that reach out into Lake Erie.  All of them are bird rich, especially in spring when the northbound migrants move in.  The birds come in overnight waves and jump across the lake, landing at these easier to reach outposts.

At dawn we explored the trails at the south end of Rondeau, The place was ringing with bird song, much of it from birds that have been here a while but still need to assert their territorial rights: Yellow warblers, Gray Catbirds and Baltimore Orioles in particular.  But there were plenty of really nice new arrivals including Tennessee, Magnolia and Blackpoll Warblers and we followed the liquid song of a Mourning Warbler and managed to get a decently long look at him.

Mourning Warblers tend to stay down low avoiding eye-contact, so seeing one is always a special event. A little later we watched a Philadelphia Vireo and a Chestnut–sided Warbler at close quarters in a low, scrubby patch of dogwood.  The warbler stayed around for a while and in the end I was able to get a decent photo of the it.

The Philadelphia Vireo was quicker to move away but I studied it long enough to refresh my memory.  They’re tricky to separate from the more common Red-eyed Vireo, their songs are almost identical and they’re very similar in general appearance, however the Philadelphia is a bit smaller, proportionately heavier and has lightly washed yellow underparts.

Around midday I explored an area of rich deciduous forest intermingled with expensive summer homes. I heard a Wood Thrush singing from the forest floor, and from high above a Blackburnian Warbler. Then my attention was drawn to the vocal antics of a trio of Red–headed Woodpeckers, their throaty “kwerrr” sound is a bit like that of their near cousin the Red-bellied Woodpecker.  The treesome seemed to be trying to decide who was in charge and who owned which piece of forest.  Red-headed Woodpeckers have become uncommon in Ontario (while at the same time Red-bellied Woodpeckers have greatly expanded their range.)  Few birds are quite as dramatic in appearance or quite as welcome; certainly welcome enough to be my bird of the day despite much strong competition before breakfast.

May 18 2012.  There’s a condition called Warbler Neck, it’s the lasting spinal discomfort that you get standing 60 feet below and straining to see a diminutive warbler picking its way through the upper reaches of a forest canopy.  It’s what we got looking a couple of Blackburnian Warblers today, we found them in the penthouse levels of an as yet un-leaved ash tree. Blackburnians rank among the best-dressed warbler, right up there with Magnolia Warblers, Canada Warblers and Cape May Warblers.  In another context you might call them a fop or a dandy with their flaming orange cravat.

The Blackburnian was among several great sightings on today’s census at the bird observatory.  We ended up with well over 50 species including migrants such as a Tennessee Warbler, a male and female Scarlet Tanager and Red–eyed Vireos.  Claiming territory were a Blue–winged Warbler, several House Wrens and Great Crested Flycatchers.  A pair of Hairy Woodpeckers chattered loudly in strong objection to our presence below their nest hole.  The female was carrying food for their young and got close to the nest entrance many times but could never quite allow herself to give away the secret location.

Along the river a pair of Canada Geese was shepherding 13 goslings and a small flock of Spotted Sandpipers flew by.  It was warm enough to put a dozen Turkey Vultures airborne rocking from side to side in their characteristic shallow V flight. A single immature Bald Eagle passed high overhead and a small team of Chimney Swifts flew tight circles around the property on fast sickle shaped wings.

May 16 2012.  I felt the turning point today, the turn when the fury of spring hands over to the warm deliberate days of summer; days that are for producing the next generation.

As I walked along a paved lakeshore path I heard Warbling Vireos staking their claim to the treetops with their ramble of flat toned notes that dwindle to an inconclusive end. An untidy “Ts wr-ilwr-lr-lwir-lee-le-lsit” is as close as I can get to it. I found the first Rugosa Rose flowers unfolding in the brushy tangles and Chimney Swifts twittering overhead as they flew fast wheeling acrobatics.

Later I watched Common Terns fishing at the canal and enjoyed studying how they differ from last week’s Forster’s Terns, the frosty upper wing tips of the Forster’s are perhaps the most obvious difference. Less obvious in flight is the Forster’s much longer tail and more orange bill. Then a Caspian Tern hovered overhead so I noted that apart from it being a relative giant, the Caspian has dark wingtips as if it’s wearing mittens.

I think it was the Chimney Swifts that caught my imagination more than the terns.  I like their absolute association with pure summer skies; how they wheel in high sweeping arcs, screaming and twittering.  They are a sound of lazy summer evenings.