Author: Peter T

May 14 2012.  The frenzy of May is at, or just past, its peak.  The hordes of birds are settling into their breeding territories, some returning to the precise spot where they nested last year, others staking out new suitable territory.  Many of the sensational birds we’ve been seeing of late still have a long way to go, they’re just passing through; but others are ready to get started on breeding.

After completing the daily census at the bird observatory, a rewarding but somewhat quieter day, I went looking for Upland Sandpipers and Bobolink.  I parked by a country graveyard along a rough dirt road and walked for a mile or so between large uncut fields of grass.  An intermittent hedge of hawthorn and wild plum flanked the road.   No Upland Sandpipers, but the fields were busy with dozens of male Bobolinks claiming their piece of turf, fluttering from spot to spot and calling liquidly as they flew: “ bu-alinka-linka-link-ink“.

Several landed on branches along the hedgerow and watched over their domain for a few moments before fluttering away.  Savannah Sparrows were playing the same game too, their call is less musical: “Tsit tsit tsit tsit seeeeee” but just as evocative of summer grasslands.  The Bobolink was my Bird of the Day for starting the next and quieter chapter in this birder’s year. Here they are, the birds of summer.

May 12 2012.  It would be hard to repeat the experience of a day like today.  It wasn’t just a day of good luck or happenstance; it was a planned birding blockbuster. I had the privilege of leading a team of five birders of mixed experience and capability on a Birdathon.  To list what we saw here would clog up the system, so I have created another blog page reporting on the day.  Suffice to say here that we saw and/or heard 141 different species.  That’s a lot.

Among an endless stream of birds, two perhaps three, species stick out.  The ‘maybe’ candidate was a Wilson’s Phalarope. In my years of birding I can only recall seeing two or three phalaropes, and not necessarily Wilson’s; I don’t remember.  Phalaropes, and there are three found in North America: Red, Red-necked and Wilson’s, are somewhere between a shorebird and a ballerina.  They are birds of wetlands, much like a Lesser Yellowlegs, but very dainty and capable of doing pirouettes for food.  We found one standing quietly as if waiting for the music to start, among some more elephantine shorebirds like Dunlins and Killdeers. I wished we could have been closer.

We made a stop in an area of extensive forest famous for great bird diversity, and on a walk among some towering pines, oaks and ashes we were stopped in our tracks by an anxious screeching from above.  We were intruding in the territory of a Northern Goshawk and he (presumably) was trying to decide whether or not to take a swipe at us. It flew from treetop to treetop all the while warning us off.  We left after getting a couple of photos and on our retreat heard Pine Warblers, Ovenbirds and Red–breasted Nuthatches.

As our day drew to a close we stood on the edge of a very large cattail marsh.  The light was fading and we were enjoying the clamour of evening birds: Least Bittern, Marsh Wrens and Swamp Sparrows. One of us wondered aloud whether we’d have a hope of seeing a Sandhill Crane; they breed in this area so it was not out of the question.  As we debated our chances we heard the faint bugling calls of a pair way off to our right.  We searched and quickly found them flying our way.  As we watched they grew closer and closer until they passed right before our eyes, the pair in perfect formation, their long gangly grey bodies, necks and wings perfectly illuminated and their rusty caps shining.  It was a stilling moment for all of us.  What did we do to be in just the right place at the right time? Many of our group said they were the Bird of the Day and for a while I weighed them against the Goshawk and Phalarope.  Hard to say.

It may be self evident, but traveling does produce some wonderful surprises.  Around Cape May I’ve seen many birds which are probably just commonplace to the locals, things like flocks of Glossy Ibis, Whimbrel and Black–bellied Plovers.

I started my day early fueled by two-for-the-price-of-one Egg McMuffins and a coffee, and went back to yesterday’s last stop.  The tide was approaching its high point so the shorebirds had moved closer to high ground and my path, so my re-acquaintance with Willet, Short–billed Dowitchers and Least Sandpipers was much more intimate.  I saw a huge cloud of indeterminate shorebirds wheeling in the distance and when I caught up with them I found hundreds of  Black-bellied Plovers, Short-billed Dowitchers and Dunlin furiously feeding on a rapidly vanishing tidal mud bank. As I watched the flock a pair of Black Skimmers flew overhead.

Moving down to the tip of Cape May I found Tri–coloured Heron, Orchard Oriole and Blue Grosbeak.  Of all of the above noted, most of them, with the exception Glossy Ibis, Tri-coloured Heron, Black Skimmer and Blue Grosbeak, are seen from time to time around home, but none of them could be called abundant.

I’m not one to get worked up about seeing a ‘lifer’; there’s plenty of new experiences to be had in this world, so while seeing a new-to-me-bird is a pleasure, it’s not champagne time.  Blue-headed Grosbeak and Seaside Sparrow were both new ones (as was Kirtland’s Warbler a few days ago).  But finding, watching and photographing a Piping Plover did set my hair on end. I’ve never seen one before so, despite the day’s enormous variety and wonderful sightings, it was instantly Bird of the Day.

A bit like the Kirtland’s Warbler, this little bird is an extreme rarity and it gets special protection whenever and wherever it’s known to breed.  The Atlantic beaches are favoured nesting sites for Piping Plovers, but vacationers and people in general like beaches too; so the plovers are losing ground.  But a few of them nest on the protected beaches of Cape May, and when I found mine it was wandering along the shoreline of a small pond picking and digging for food.  I hastened to get a for-the-record shot, but needn’t have worried for it kept walking towards me until we were within 10 feet of each other.

A list of birds seen would be too long and a little dreary, but Fish Crow, Clapper Rail, Brant and a Northern Harrier all added some wow-factor to the day.

May 9 2012.  I have long wanted to witness the spring migration of shorebirds along the Atlantic seaboard. The returning birds swarm northwards following the edge of the continent until finally they leap north to their Arctic breeding grounds.  We see scant few in central Ontario, so a trip to Cape May, New Jersey seemed to be called for; even though it’s a long day’s drive to get there.

Especially intriguing is the symbiotic relationship between birds and the prehistoric looking Horseshoe Crabs that come ashore to lay eggs at the surf-line, particularly  along the Delaware shoreline. Here’s one, were they the inspiration for Darth Vader’s headgear?

There must be billions and billions of crabs’ eggs laid because millions and millions of birds rely on them as a source of high-protein food and the din and sight of endless ranks of egg-gorging Laughing Gulls is amazing.  Amazing enough to make the Laughing Gull my Bird of the Day.  They are a very smart looking gull and perhaps I should give them their due before I come to disregard them in the way I disregard Ring-billed Gulls in Ontario.

I really wanted to see Red Knots and Ruddy Turnstones, the Red Knot because its Atlantic population is crashing as humans have over-harvested Horseshoe Crabs (and concomitantly the supply of crabs’ eggs as food) to use as fertilizer.  Presumably Horseshoe Crabs have been seen as deserving of slaughter for fertilizer because of their rather threateningly prehistoric (& therefore grim) appearance.

Quite apart from Laughing Gulls in the thousands, I was captivated by birds that I have rarely seen, simply because they are birds of the coast. As the tide receded the mud flats became home to Short–billed Dowitchers, Oystercatchers and Greater Yellowlegs. Willets stalked around long-legged and stately in a heavyish way, conspicuous even though they’re rather drabbly coloured.  They stood around watching what everyone else was up to, then when time to fly off in alarm, they flashed black and white zig zag wing markings and called out with loud fluting complaints.

I could hear, but not see, many Clapper Rails calling in the marsh grasses, they make a sound like a sharp throaty ” Cratch-cratch-cratch-cratch” slowing and diminishing after a dozen or so repetitions.  Great and Snowy Egrets, Forsters and Common Terns dotted the vast expanse of marshes with white splashes.  I took lots of pictures, so I’ve posted some more on the photos page.

A Black–throated Blue Warbler found working among the forest floor debris suddenly brought order to the day.  I was doing the census at the bird observatory and the Yellow-rumped Warblers outnumbered other warblers ten to one.  But lots of first-of-the-year sightings had started to make my head spin: Northern Waterthrush, Chestnut-sided Warbler and Ovenbird for starters.

An Orchard Oriole singing high in a White Oak had stopped me in my tracks.  It reminded me how 35 years ago I’d seen two mystery birds in our Toronto neighbourhood, one was calling loudly “Whit-t-tu  Whit-t-tu  Whit-t-tu  Wha-chew”  I had no idea what they could be but retained that powerful song in my mind, and then twenty or so years later concluded that they were probably Orchard Orioles.  That last note “Wha Chew”  is distinctive.  Now I see them every year, they’re not common, but they’re not rare either.

Several Black and White Warblers, a single Nashville Warbler and a brilliant Magnolia Warbler kept me busy, and then I found myself in a wave of warblers picking and flitting all around. Among them at first one, then two more, Black–throated Blue Warblers.  The thing about male Black–throated Blue warblers is their crisp, almost military plumage: snow white, coal black and evening sky blue, with a precise square wing flash to add authority. It was that precision that brought order to the day and made it my Bird of the Day.

A little while later I found a female Scarlet Tanageron the edge of a maple woodlot.  She’s a stout olive-green bird, and knowing tanagers to stick together, I wondered if a male could be anywhere close.  It took just a moment for me to find him in his explosive scarlet uniform.  At this time of year he’s always a treat, glowing red hot like the fanned coals of a campfire. I have added a not very good picture of a Scarlet Tanager from last year, the colour is really all you need.

There were lots more that made me stop and stare: two Eastern Kingbirds were chattering and fly-catching over the river and a young Bald Eagle was inspected closely by a territorially minded Red-tailed Hawk.