Author: Peter T

May 27th 2012. I have a goal to explore more of a rural municipality nearby, one rich in swampy forests, marshes and upland fields.  The landscape owes much of its natural and scenic interest to post-glacial land forms, features such as drumlins, eskers and other ice-sheet leftovers that have trapped water between abrupt hills and ensure meandering courses for the many rivers and creeks.

This morning, long before most people were up and about, I decided to walk a long but straight path that started at the top of a hill and then plunged into a low flat and wet valley.  The view at the top was wonderful and almost endless, a convenient bench is there for a very good reason.  Wide fields of grass, still uncut (& I hope they stay that way for a while yet) support Bobolinks, Savannah Sparrows and Eastern Meadowlarks; all were singing.  It was a morning of bird song because the hedgerow was home to singing Yellow Warblers, a House Wren and a pair of Eastern Kingbirds that flew from treetop to treetop making their distinctive clinking tin can sound.

At the bottom of the hill the wide, dry path continued straight through dense wet woodland that was lively with the songs of Gray Catbirds, Eastern Wood Peewees and several Northern Waterthrushes.  I couldn’t really see any of them, the woods are so dense that anything beyond 6 feet away is pretty much out of sight.  The Northern Waterthrush has a sharp, loud, assertive song; sometimes described as  “Three-three-three twotwotwo oneone”. Or “Twit twit twit-sweet sweet sweet-tew tew tew.”  I tried to draw one closer to me with some sharp chip sounds, but without luck. I have sometimes found Northern Waterthrushes to be quick to investigate intruders (like this rather blurry one in my only photograph of a waterthrush ), but not today; at least not that I could see.  I contented myself with knowing they were there, just like a Canada Warbler and a Veery, both heard singing but not seen.

The Veery was Bird of the Day despite staying out of sight, which was a bit of a shame because it is a subtle and graceful thrush, shy and quick to move away.  It has a warm rufous-chestnut back and head and an almost clear cream breast marked only by a hint of spots.  A Veery’s song can stop you in your tracks; you just have to listen;  it attracts descriptions like ethereal, flute-like, somewhat mournful, and downward spiraling. It’s a breathy exhaled “Viuw, Veeer vir v’r v’r  vr r” fading away into the forest.

May 25 2012.  They are such an elusive bird, and it’s such an event when you see one that most birders kind of gush with enthusiasm about seeing either of Yellow–billed and Black–billed Cuckoos. They are both late-spring migrants probably because their preferred food is caterpillars, both are tough birds to get a really good look at; they seem to move slowly and carefully out of sight behind any maddeningly thick fan of leaves.  Sometimes they’ll remain still for a long time, perhaps assessing or stalking a morsel of food, then just when you think it’s really not there at all, it flies quickly to another obscure tree-top hiding place.

Birders are more likely to hear their characteristic and strange songs, better described as vocalizations.  Pete Dunne in his excellent book cleverly describes the Yellow-billed Cuckoo’s vocalization as “… a low loud clucking that starts fast and insistent, and loses speed and interest at the end: Kluk luclucluclucluc luc luc k’lowp k’lowp k’lowp.”  And the Black-billed Cuckoo he says makes a “…slow k’awp k’awp k’awp that is similar to the Yellow-billed but faster, higher pitched, and less coarse.”  I admire his (or anyone’s) ability to transcribe bird vocalizations into word-ish forms.

Today at the bird observatory a strong south wind seemed to repress most bird life, although in the shelter of the creek valley there was plenty to listen to; mostly resident birds on territory. A Blue–winged Warbler was doing the rounds of its property calling its inhale-exhale “zzzzz- buzz” from hard-to-find perches.  Also Eastern Wood Peewees, Great–crested Flycatchers and Red–eyed Vireos were patrolling their treetops.  A Gray Catbird had me fooled for a while with its imitation of a Black-capped Chickadee, and the longer I listened to him the more I could pick up phrases from the songs of Robins and Blue Jays.  An unseen bird was calling softly from low in the forest, it’s repetitive call was  “pit sa,- pit sa “ and my conclusion was a probable Acadian Flycatcher.  But only probable because missing was the explosive and insistent tone that marks an Acadian Flycatcher. Oh well.

Bird of the Day was a Yellow–billed Cuckoothat was trapped in a mist net, removed, banded and sent on its way, it was a truly elegant bird, a long handful, subtly coloured in grey, light cream with a reddish tinge to its primary flight feathers;- and a yellow bill of course.

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.