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RBG Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON.  November 7, 2024. With our fall transects complete, I walked the valley today hoping to sustain some sort of birding momentum. But it was slim pickings, we had seen the best of it and watched it drain away.

This Eastern Screech Owl should have satisfied me but we see it there half the time, so really not a surprise. We usually admire this same grey individual and have for several years, at least we assume it’s the same bird. We might go on making that assumption were it not for the fact that every now and then, a rufous look-alike takes its place. Like people, this species comes in different colours so no big mystery there but what it tells us is that at least two birds share the same roost.  But on what terms? Are they siblings, a bonded pair, one at a time, or squeezing in together?   With those questions unanswered I have to conceded that just seeing it is pretty special, although not the sort of special I was looking for today.

I had a non-birder companion with me, Rod. He’s not a muddy hiking boots type but he showed polite interest when I pointed out a few birds: White–throated Sparrow (2 or 3) , Dark–eyed Junco (1), Cedar Waxwings  (16) and a Wood Duck, his were grunted acknowledgements mostly;  until I pointed out this Great Blue Heron. It stopped him dead in his tracks.

With a little instruction he had my binoculars onto the bird and… Wow!  Rod is a very skilled watercolour artist and was quick to explain his proposed choice of paint colour, Paynes Gray, and how the fallen-leaves-on-water background was perfect. I’d never looked at it that way, Our Bird of the Day.

It always seems to catch me off guard just how empty the place becomes in November. There’s a pause after the birds of summer have gone and before the birds of winter move in.  They may be out there, not yet pressed for food or shelter, but when winter closes in they’ll find both in this steep-sided valley of woods and wetland.

Westdale, Hamilton. ON.  November 1, 2024. Although not cold it was certainly November-ish this morning. With sudden gusts hurling fallen leaves back skyward and a  ceiling of torn grey cloud, my companion and I struggled to count waterfowl species by the dozens and hundreds. Scattered over wide waters were Northern Shovelers, Green-winged Teal, Gadwall, Mallards, American Wigeons and many more. All hungrily refuelling as they retreat from northern breeding grounds and facing a long journey ahead to warmer waters.

Back on land, most summer visitor migrants had left, but the woodland edges were happily busy with American Goldfinches ravaging thickets of goldenrods, hungry for the seeds. My Birds of the Day were a pair of somber Common Ravens.  Ravens are known to mate for life and these two seemed to be bonded, maybe not in courtship, a bit early even for Ravens, but one was making what sounded like gentle ‘glug’ sounds and little dance-like nods with flared wings. Its mate was obviously paying attention.

Photography of a black bird against the sky was difficult, but given the tone of the day and the date perhaps it is perfect.

RBG Arboretum, Hamilton. ON.  October 12, 2024. This was one of the best days birding in a while. Perhaps it was the fine weather, certainly it suited me, but it’s the bigger weather events that nudge birds into heading south and make our transect work more varied.

I completed one of our transects, thoroughly enjoying a few special moments: dozens of White-throated Sparrows in one patch of weedy grasses, flocks of Cedar Waxwings settling into tree-tops and Yellow–rumped Warblers busily working wherever the sun stirred small insect movement. A Peregrine Falcon turning in relaxed circles high over the lake was a nice sighting, followed a little later and much lower, by a young Bald Eagle who cruised along unconcerned by the consternation it caused to the many ducks below:  Gadwall , Mallards and Northern Shovellers.

My Birds of the Day were hundreds of Blue Jays.  There was an intermittent stream of them passing overhead, trending south and west; but just as many stayed, milling around, socializing and most importantly feeding. A huge acorn crop made the ground crunchy in places and dozens of jays had found and preferred the fallen acorns of one Northern Pin Oak in particular. The wide green expanse beneath the tree often had 20 or 30 Blue Jays all feeding hungrily, gulping down just two, three or four acorns before leaving, crop bulging, to be quickly replaced by another hungry jay. I wondered what was special about this oak but noticed that its acorns were quite  small, perhaps the size if the top joint of your little finger, while Northern Red Oaks’ acorns were twice as big,  thumb-tip size.

It’s interesting to note that almost exactly five years ago, I wrote about another Blue Jay acorn banquet.  The need, timing and place was the same, but the feeding behaviour a little different. The favoured tree then was a Shingle Oak (which this year has few acorns) and I noted that the jays seemed to prefer its smaller acorns too.

Today’s jays were able to accommodate  no more than four smallish acorns in their crops, good food for a good while I’m sure. A dozen years ago I watched and wrote about European Jays (a quite different species and much larger) similarly gulping down more and bigger acorns.

RBG Arboretum, Hamilton. ON.  September 27, 2024. For many years I had it in for the Wild Turkey.  Not the bird, it is fascinating in many ways, and I’ll come to that, but the name, specifically the adjective ‘wild’. Briefly, I think wild is needless and self-evident, serving only to distinguish it from plastic-wrapped Christmas carcasses. For all those years I boycotted ‘Wild Turkey”, suggesting Woodland Turkey or Northern Turkey as more suitable. No-one shared my passion on the topic. I gave up.

I had hardly started my transect this morning, when four Wild Turkeys emerged from a woodland edge and made a stately march-past, left to right, in front of me. They were in no hurry, just making their way and picking at the odd food item as they went. Here are 2 of them.

There was ample time to admire them and ponder the folklore and stories that revolve around them.  These are big birds, almost unbelievably so.  One New Jersey morning,  I came across a male turkey in full display mode with his admiring harem staying close, he was surely as large as an armchair!  I wonder how those sad, starving and sea-sick pilgrim fathers of 1620 reacted at the sight of them; unimaginable feasts to people whose memories of table birds were probably limited to the Wood Pigeons of Europe.

Wild Turkeys are native to Ontario but were hunted to extirpation by 1910. Several attempts were made to reintroduce them but without success until about 30 years ago, since then they have gone from strength to strength. While abundant they do have predators, at night they fly strongly to roost in the upper level of woodlands.

The rest of my transect walk was rather uneventful lacking the surge of migrants that we hope for, although the song of a Pine Warbler reminded me a little of spring, but the Wild Turkeys were clearly My Birds of the Day.

RBG Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON.  September 25, 2024.  Sometimes while birding, I’ll find or see something just a little bit different or special, enough that it kickstarts writing in my head. Often an assemblage of ideas, phrases and half-baked stories finds their way into these posts.

It doesn’t always happen, most days, like today, are just another day’s birding, a nice day in the country. Things happen, birds appear, are noted but not necessarily celebrated.  I walked the valley today and even though the species count wasn’t high there was plenty to savour against a backdrop of early colour changes.

Two birds whose behavior didn’t quite fit the surroundings caught my eye. I was pleased to pick them out as Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, here is one of them. Not the eye-arresting black, white and crimson of a spring male grosbeak, but a tidy pair of buff, cream, and brown youngsters. At this time of year they have an unmistakable squeaky-toy contact note to give away their presence when otherwise they tend to move slowly among thick bushes. It’s been too long since I last saw grosbeaks like these and they were instant Birds of the Day for me.

The day was far from over and dealt more noteworthy sighting. A Peregrine Falcon and a Red–tailed Hawk in a brief and vocal skirmish, the falcon protesting and taking close swipes at the much larger and slower red-tail. What it was all about is anyone’s guess.

A Bald Eagle drifted high overhead, sliding easily along on an unseen path, while at treetop level, a Cooper’s Hawk– or was it a Sharp–shinned Hawk, they’re hard to tell apart, sat stolidly in an old Red Ash. A trio of young Northern Flickers taunted the hawk until it gave futile chase.  I’ve seen this sort of play before, where a hunter is drawn reluctantly into a catch-me-if-you-can game by a group of flickers or jays. I speculate that there is some mutual benefit: the hunter practices or sharpens its chase skills while the teasers know they have enough of a head start to out-run and out-wit the hawk, learning despite the risk that it just may not work out well.