Category: Uncategorized

August 30 2015. Hendrie Valley, Burlington ON. Our team of volunteers restart the routine censuses in two days, we monitor the busy migration months of September and October and then April and May. I did a warm-up census around one of our routes this morning, a mix of wooded valley-sides, swampy flood plain, quiet ponds and a small river. It’s always interesting.

A change in weather seems to have slowed things down a bit in contrast to some pretty exciting days last week. We are in for a week of very warm, probably thunderous, days. Not great birding weather. It’s cold fronts pushing down from the north that stir migrant birds into moving, not blankets of sticky warmth like this.

Over the next four to six weeks, once the warm humid air moves away, there will be lots of variety to come . Today was rather well, not ho-hum exactly, more so-so; if there’s a difference.  Black-capped Chickadees by the score, actually I counted forty-three, late brood, young Song Sparrows, Common Grackles and American Goldfinches everywhere.

Among summer residents counted were: Eastern Wood Peewees, Warbling and Red-eyed Vireos, Gray Catbirds, Common Yellowthroats, Eastern Phoebes and three Ruby-throated Hummingbirds.  

I watched a mini-drama as a Cooper’s Hawk was harassed by some Blue Jays and I was starting to wonder where today’s wow! moment would come from. Could it be the young Common Yellowthroat who seemed to want to keep an eye on me, or maybe a vocal but unseen Carolina Wren, if only it would show itself.

Then, to validate my belief that there’s always a bird of the day no matter how tedious or otherwise unexciting the day may be, I spotted this Great Egret watching over the ponds from on high. Great Egrets aren’t rare around here; they used to be, but bird populations expand and contract and Great Egrets are in an expansionary mood.  While we see them infrequently in spring, as summer wears on they start to show up and it’s not uncommon to have a dozen or two in the area in August and September. It’s hard to miss them of course.

We are heading to the UK in a couple of days.  I’ll be posting from there. The change of bird life will be refreshing, if not novel.  It’s what I grew up on.

August 25 2015. Paletta Park, Burlington, ON. I’ve been following some rather lively commentary about the appearance (not altogether unexpected) of a handful of migrant shorebirds: a Wilson’s Phalarope, and some Red Knots in particular. It sounded intriguing enough that I shouldered my telescope, slung my camera and binoculars and went to see if I could find them. I can claim to have seen the Wilson’s Phalarope, but the distances were great and the gusting wind too strong to make it entirely enjoyable. In fact I was reminded how little I really enjoy long-distance through-the-telescope birding. Deciding there had to be a better way, I gathered my stuff and made my way to a local park known for its densely wooded, unmanicured corners.

It was quite a different experience. Out of the wind, wandering the wood-chip paths, warm and fragrant with the scents of late summer; finding birds seemed of lesser importance. But, hearing a distinctive ‘plik’ note I replied with my own immitation and up popped a young Common Yellowthroat. It was unimpressed by me and quickly dove back into the deep tangles of wild cucumbers and grapes.

I sat down on the dry path and waited to see if it would reappear, it didn’t, but a Gray Catbird busied itself working through those tangles and several Ruby-throated Hummingbirds seemed to take exception to a group of American Goldfinches. One of the best sightings was a Yellow-bellied Flycatcher that sat for a few moments on a strategic perch waiting patiently for a meal. It dropped down to catch something and I lost it, a pity because we don’t see enough of them, a pretty little flycatcher.

Bird of the Day was a briefly seen Chestnut-sided Warbler. It takes experience to know a late summer Chestnut-sided Warbler because they bear little resemblance to the bird of spring with its bold splashes of chestnut. By August any traces of chestnut have gone from a female and are much reduced on a male, it’s a transformed bird with new field marks: a bright green back and clear eye-ring.

The pursuit of birding offers many ways to be challenged and rewarded: Some birders maintain life-lists and year-lists: Some spend hours hoping for the great photo; Others seek to see every extant North American sparrow species (imagine!). Today, abandoning the long distance pursuit of the uncommon for a quiet hour at close quarters with the familiar was all I needed to make a good day in the field.

August 19 2015. Lakefield ON. Well, the delayed grandson arrived today; 7Lbs 7 oz. and everybody is well. Under the circumstances I’m sure you’ll understand that it wasn’t much of a birding day, nevertheless a late, fleeting glimpse of an Osprey registered with me and was a reminder that many Birds of the Day are just happy happenstance sightings.

I’d say that almost every day I hear or see something that makes me pause for a moment. Around home this summer it’s been the odd flight of Chimney Swifts, a passing Common Nighthawk or one of our wrens (Carolina or Winter). And now as summer starts to lose its grip, a bank of sunflowers is attracting American Goldfinches while a Ruby-throated Hummingbird is still hanging around the monarda. For me they all add a touch of sparkle to the rhythm of daily life.

Today after visiting hours, we were sitting on an outdoor patio enjoying a latish dinner. It wasn’t a particularly scenic spot and not much to see; a cheerful family crowd in front of me and a solitary, somewhat academic-looking man making a pint of beer last several hours behind. And then while I contemplated my emptying glass, an Osprey soared low overhead, it was holding a fish, face forwards as they do, more aerodynamic that way. It was there one moment and out of sight the next; just an Osprey. But really NOT just an Osprey; I know them as elegant, accomplished, catchers of fish who patrol waterways, hover, plunge, seize fish, haul themselves out of the water and, in mid-flight, shake themselves dry like a retriever. Bird of the day today – just because.

August 18 2015. Townsend ON. We were scheduled to greet a new grandson today but the anesthetist couldn’t attend, so we all have to wait another day. Standing down from high alert, I visited a sewage treatment plant instead. Birders generally limit discussing the relative merits of sewage treatment facilities to birder gatherings (flocks,) for obvious reasons. But I’ll share with you that modern, large-scale, concrete and steel treatment plants with flood-lights, aeration tanks, and sludge-settling cells aren’t a lot of fun, except perhaps in December when they might attract lingering insectivorous migrants; and then birders can be seen hanging around them. Constructed wetlands with several linked sewage-treatment ponds: the first receiving untreated sludge and the last discharging supposedly clean effluent, are generally disagreeable places but they are enormously attractive to both shorebirds and swallows; it to one of these that I was drawn today.

After several weeks of slow birding, it was nice to see some new faces, old friends in a way. I’d seen them all in May on their way to the Arctic: Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers, Semipalmated Plovers, Lesser Yellowlegs, some Pectoral Sandpipers and Solitary Sandpipers.

All of them are now leaving the far northern reaches of mainland North America, anywhere from Hudson Bay to Alaska and they’re heading back to spend our winter in the food-rich tropical zones of North, South and Central America. They take a few days to pay us a fatten-up visit on the way.

For a while I thought the little Semipalmated Plovers were the day’s highlights. They have a lot going for them, visually anyway; and plovers of all shapes and sizes are really cool birds. The Killdeer is our local default plover, it’s with us for nine or ten months of the year and a common sight in open grassy areas. Even though they are common it would be hard to not admire their smart appearance.

But in the end a Sora stole the day; it was quite unexpected. Soras are small rails, rather like a diminutive chicken, but they inhabit marshes picking over the various wriggly lifeforms found therein. They are infrequently seen because well, they usually stay hidden among the reeds. I’ve heard several over the years, had momentary glimpses of a few and enjoyed lingering looks very rarely. I was able to photograph this one several years ago as it wandered around among the cattails below a marsh boardwalk. Curious and endearing little creatures.

Today, on the homeward stretch after walking around the rather malodorous settling ponds, I heard a familiar, sharp ‘keek’ off to my left. In the back of my mind I registered that something, perhaps one of the various sandpipers, sounded like a Sora. I paid it little heed. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a real Sora scuttling across open mudflats; a triumph of sorts and probably my best ever lingering looks. Alas no photos, not this time. But Bird of the Day for all that.

3 August 2015. Windemere Basin, Hamilton, ON. Last night, as we drove to meet with family members for an early restaurant dinner, I looked up at an ill-coloured bank of rolling clouds hanging like the rim of a fat saucer and stretching across the sky from west to east.  And while storm fronts like that are interesting and beg further investigation, it was of little consequence to us as it was apparently passing us by and besides, hungry people were waiting for us.  Later I learned that it was a mere fraction of what was probably a circular thundercloud of some thirty of forty miles in circumference.  Evidently it held a thunderstorm of satanic malevolence, which excited much media comment and attention. But we knew nothing of that and were peacefully ordering our dinner as it did its work; our town felt not a drop of rain. However three or four hours later another towering wall of inky doom came upon us and this time it made sure to startle and drench us.

This morning I looked out at a wet and flattened world and wondered whether any interesting birds had been blown in; it happens sometimes.  Skipping breakfast I headed to the often-productive wetlands and settling ponds of our industrial periphery. There wasn’t anything new to see, at least not that I could make out within the reach of my binoculars or telescope; but I think things had been stirred up a bit. I could hear and just make out a few Lesser Yellowlegs picking away in the farthest shallows and I’d like to think I was seeing some Blue-winged Teal too, but between intervening reeds and distance I couldn’t be sure.

The waters of the river below me were laced with swooping, feeding Tree and Barn Swallows and to my surprise a Lesser Yellowlegs sometimes joined them, weaving and swerving quite swallow-like to pick food from the surface. I’ve never before seen such behaviour from a yellowlegs, or any shorebird for that matter.

In front of me, across the water about twenty metres distant, was the bank of an impoundment and I think that on the other side of the bank (out of my sight and reach) the feeding must have been good. A culvert pierces the bank on top of which there must be a path, in any event there’s a handrail of sorts above the culvert and it was popular with herons. In the half an hour or so I was there, some adults and a juvenile Black- crowned Night-heron, a Green Heron and a Great Blue Heron all lighted upon the handrail to watch over the waters below. I was captivated by them, partly because there was a compositionally pleasing picture to be had, the bird, the riot of wild flowers and the geometry of the handrail all seemed worth framing and giving up my scan for distant celebrities. Good enough to make them collectively my birds of the day. (Click on any of these photos to enlarge it.)