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9 March 2015 Burlington, ON. The morning started well for me with a Carolina Wren singing boldly just outside our front door. Like a nearby Northern Cardinal, also in full song, it was commenting, as only they know how, on the change in weather. This day dawned bright with temperatures well above freezing. It must have been our change to daylight saving time that made it warm enough for rivulets of melt-water to appear everywhere.

Looking back at my notes, and photos from a year ago, I could see that we’re at about the same point in the reemergence of light and life.   I headed off to a couple of favourite lakeside sites. Naturally it was pretty much as expected, a little less ice-free than last year but a day or two of warmth will make a lot of difference. At a nearby marina were many Lesser and Greater Scaup, Long-tailed Ducks and White-winged Scoters all diving for food.

I spent quite a long time trying to capture photos of White-winged Scoters in the act of diving. It was surprisingly difficult because it all happens so quickly. After many missed shots I began to anticipate the process. Over the span of a second, or maybe two, a White-winged Scoters goes from a rather placid, barge-like posture to: sit-up-and-pay-attention, brief neck stretch, minor wing-spread – and then dive; gone. I realized that the sit-up-and-pay-attention moment was my cue to press the button. There was always a momentary camera pause to allow for, but it worked and I brought home an entertaining and vaguely instructive collection of shots on how to make diving look easy.

Later I stopped to check on our local pair of Peregrine Falcons. One of them, I couldn’t tell which, was on a ledge near the top of the bridge superstructure where they have their nest site. I watched it through binoculars for a long time; it seemed to be unusually attentive as if anticipating something. I wondered if it was on guard duty and scanning the skies for unwelcome visitors; territorial peregrines will aggressively chase off any other hawks or falcons that come anywhere in sight.

Eventually it launched itself off the ledge and flew to land on a large cable directly overhead. So directly overhead that I had to move quickly to avoid an unwelcome shower of Peregrine poop; not everything about peregrines is awe-inspiring. As I regained my composure, a second peregrine swept in, calling as it flew, came to a fluttering stall and promptly mounted and copulated with the bird overhead; an unusual viewpoint, but at least I now knew that it was the female I’d been watching for so long.

Reflecting on the morning, it’s hard to be sure which of the three sightings gave me the greatest pleasure: the spring-heralding Carolina Wren, the diving White-winged Scoters or the mating Peregrine Falcons. Interestingly each, for various reasons is a bit of a newcomer: The Carolina Wren is a species that has expanded its range into this part of Ontario as recently as the last twenty years, perhaps in response to milder winters. The White-winged Scoter and many other winter duck species were virtually unknown as Great Lakes winter residents, again until about twenty years ago. Now they overwinter here in their hundreds of thousands feeding on the vast colonies of invasive Zebra Mussels that have become established. And the Peregrine Falcon is the poster child for bringing a species back from extinction; they were virtually eliminated from the landscape by the use of DDT. As the rescue bird it was my Bird of the Day.

4 March 2015. Hamilton Harbour, ON. Today was the first day in the better part of two months that the air temperature edged above freezing. Just getting above the freezing point was a big leap and one that many birders seemed to appreciate. I went down to the entrance to our large industrial harbour to see if I could spot our resident Peregrine Falcons at their nest site (I did) and maybe some interesting ducks in and around the canal that connects the harbour to Lake Ontario. The canal is such a dynamic and surging waterway that even when the entire harbour and adjacent expanses of the lake are frozen, it has open water and is consequently crowded with wintering ducks. They were all there in thousands: Long-tailed Ducks, Lesser and Greater Scaup, Common Goldeneyes, Redheads, Canvasbacks, Trumpeter and Mute Swans, White-winged Scoters (pictured below) and Red-breasted and Common Mergansers; eleven species, and all but the swans were diving to feed on the Zebra Mussels which have colonized the Great Lakes.

There were Herring, Great Black-backed and Ring-billed Gulls too and, away in the distance, eight Bald Eagles.

I met another area birder there; Kevin is highly respected for his encyclopedic knowledge of all species of our birds and is widely consulted as a specialist in the evolving plumages of gull species from juvenile to full adult; a three or four-year process (and utterly baffling to most). We walked out to the end of a pier, into the teeth of a northwest wind coming off the frozen harbour and, cold though it was, for the first time in a long time I didn’t feel that I was risking frostbite.

Kevin was busy taking photographs as a resource for his monograph on determining the age of female Long-tailed Ducks. I, however, was looking the other way, captivated by the sight of my Birds of the Day, the group of Bald Eagles some distance from us. Bald Eagles now regularly spend the winter on and around the ice of the harbour, where they prey on the thousands of overwintering ducks, particularly those that fail to keep their wits about them.

Here is a gallery of some of that group, mostly juveniles. It takes about four years for the full white head and tail of the adult eagle to develop.

(The gallery is visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.)

Historically Lake Ontario was perfect habitat for Bald Eagles, but their numbers crashed in the early to mid twentieth century and as recently as twenty years ago the sight of a Bald Eagle around here was quite sensational. We now have a local breeding pair, which for the past two years, has successfully produced two chicks per year; and the wintering Bald Eagles have been reliably present for perhaps the last five winters.

10 February 2015. Finca Lerida, Chiriqui, Panama.  In the last week of my three-week stay in Boquete, my Spanish lessons were shorter but more intense. As a result by 10 a.m. each day, school was finished. On this particular day, a look at the surrounding mountaintops suggested that Finca Lerida would be enjoying very fine weather so I decided to go and explore its many trails again.

Just as on my recent return trip to the quetzal trail (see Tufted Flycatcher post) , I determined to take my time and enjoy everything the forests around Finca Lerida had to offer. I often cover a lot of ground when I’m birding but I’m not really sure whether slow ambling ranks as effective cardiac exercise; I rather doubt it. But I can say that around Boquete, and at Finca Lerida in particular, the elevation makes all walking a workout. Boquete is at 3,900 feet above sea level, and I’d guess Finca Lerida is another four or five hundred feet higher still.

After a heart and lung-stretching hike up, endlessly up, through ranks of coffee bushes I made it to the fringes of the forest backdrop where the interesting bird are to be found. But there’s lots more than just the birds to enjoy here.  On any branch that offers a reasonably horizontal surface, many of the large canopy trees support dense growths of bromeliads, orchids, and grasses . Bromeliads are designed to capture rainwater in the overlapping leaf bases and, with enough rain, the added weight often causes bits of branches to break and fall; the ground in this rain forest is littered with such debris. I found a piece of branch about eighteen inches long encrusted with a fascinating blanket of two or three types of bromeliad (one in flower), small orchids, bamboo, mosses and goodness knows what else. Holding and inspecting this microcosm of the treetop world, I wanted to take it home with me, but it didn’t take many moments’ thought to see far too many obstacles; Agriculture & Food Canada not the least of them. Here’s a photo of that little piece of jungle treetop.

Continuing along the path I caught movement deep within the understory – a flash of violet. I waited and hoped for whatever it was to move again. It did and flitted a little closer until, through a gap in the greenery, I could make out a small, iridescent violet hummingbird with a long decurved bill. This is how forest birding goes; the tropical rainforest vegetation is extremely thick, birds appear and disappear in milli-seconds; you would never want to be lost in it. For once my camera agreed to focus on the bird rather than the branches in front or the landscape behind and I was able to get this picture, good enough to identify it as a Violet Sabrewing. A day or two later, I commented on my sighting it to a local expert who nonchalantly responded that Violet Sabrewings are quite common around here. “They might be to you.” I replied. He just smiled.

Continuing slowly along the trail, with a deep valley on one side and thick rainforest on the other, I became aware of a strange, regular and repetitive call carrying through the forest with a resonance something like a cross between a squeaky gate, a metallic clang and an electric crackle; although none of those really do it justice. It was acutely difficult trying to locate whatever it was and I don’t think I have ever spent as much time and patience in search of one elusive creature; I didn’t know whether I was hearing a bird, a monkey or perhaps even someone pounding steel fenceposts. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be moving around so I persevered in my search knowing that I was probably looking for a needle in a haystack. It ended in triumph though, for high above me I found a calling male Three-wattled Bellbird, a curious creature if ever there was. Follow this link and listen and see for yourself. My own photos don’t do it justice. I’d heard of bellbirds but had absolutely no expectation of seeing or hearing one in my short time in Panama; it was such a surprise and thrill that it was unquestionably Bird of the Day, even displacing the flashy Violet Sabrewing of a little earlier.

When eventually the bellbird flew off, I realized how hungry and weary I’d become. It was enough for one day, so I headed back downhill to the coffee shop for a very late lunch. I wouldn’t normally make mention of meal-time moments, but as I got comfortable outside the coffee shop, a Flame–colored Tanager joined me, clearly expecting that I would share my empanada lunch with him. I think we’ve all seen this sort of conditioned, easy-pickings behaviour by birds at some time, usually it’s urban House Sparrows, and I also recall being impressed by brazen Baltic Gulls cleaning up leftover Pizza at a Stockholm café. But if ever there was an appropriate metaphor for the searing tropical colour of Finca Lerida, it would be this spectacular tanager (and not forgetting the Green Violet-ear hummingbirds.)

8 February 2015. Quetzal Trail near Boquete, Chiriqui, Panama.The hike of a week ago, the one on which I caught glimpses of the Resplendent Quetzals, left me determined to return and take more time to explore that particular valley trail; to take all day if necessary. This was my chance.

Many hike this trail search of quetzals, it’s a very rugged path and climbs steadily towards the quetzal habitat, which is in deep forest about two kilometres from the start. As I observed a couple of entries earlier, I really doubt that anyone without an experienced guide would see a quetzal, but all sorts of hopeful and unaccompanied folks make the attempt anyway.

The trail starts where the valley opens out among fields which are cultivated after a fashion, it is flanked by towering forested mountainsides and follows the course of a fast running mountain torrent which defines the quetzal valley; the trail never wanders far from it or one of its tumbling tributaries. The apparently clean and perhaps drinkable waters sparkle as they gush and careen unstoppable through rocky clefts and interlocked tangles of straggling greenery.

 

I took my time trekking slowly uphill, sometimes explaining to passing groups of quetzal-questers what I was looking at, not that I was seeing all that much; and certainly not a quetzal. None of them was in the slightest bit interested in a Long-tailed Silky Flycatcher that I spent time staring at.  It was on the top of a bare and scrawny tree, but against the bright sky it was almost impossible to make out any of its colour, a pity because I know from illustrations that they are plumaged in a rather beautiful combination of greys and yellows. It was only by its silhouette, especially that of its crest and graduated tail, that I was able to indentify it.

The warm and lush forests naturally teem with insects; protein to many, and where there is protein there is always something ready to eat it. Apart from the Silky-flycatcher, my notes from Boquete include several other members of the large and variously adapted Tyrannidae or Tyrant Flycatcher family: Tropical Kingbird, Greater Kiskadee, Yellowish Flycatcher, Dark Peewee, Black Phoebe, Torrent Tyrannulet and Tufted Flycatcher included. There were a few others that I was sure were part of the family but was unable to identify for one reason or another. And of course there were many more eaters-of-flies such as swallows and martins, which are not part of the Flycatcher family and probably don’t care whether they are or not.

I continued on past the quetzal zone, climbing ever onwards and marvelling at how unthreatening this impenetrable jungle seemed; admittedly I was on a well used path but still…. This is the sort of country that should, I would have thought, have placed me in imminent danger at every turn. Where were the venomous snakes: Eyelash Vipers and Bushmasters? Why no clouds of malarial mosquitoes? And what about armies of looping leeches or flesh-stripping ants? There was none of it. It was as pleasant as a June stroll along one of our tranquil lakeshore trails; albeit a good bit bumpier.

I eventually reached the end of the path at the plunge pool where the river arrived from several hundred giddy feet above. I scrambled to a well-placed rock and enjoyed my picnic lunch, it was the sort of cool, green place that could have used a Victorian poet to do it justice.

Well, along the way this day I found a few birds of interest; quite enough to satisfy me. If you were an avid lister it might not cut it, for while the tropics, Central America in particular, may be rich in bird life it takes luck, effort and an absence of leaves to find them; a skilled local bird guide is the best answer.

I caught fleeting looks at a Ruddy-capped Nightingale Thrush, a nervously evasive member of the Catharus family of thrushes, some members of which spend spring and summer in Ontario. They are all rather slender and gentle-looking birds, subtly clad in buff and soft browns (see my earlier posting about a Hermit Thrush). The Ruddy-capped Nightingale Thrush has a glowing warm cinnamon-brown cap and back. Interestingly (to me anyway) I may have heard several of these birds singing on this and other days. I was, and remain, a little puzzled by the songs of what I thought were Wood Thrushes coming from within the thick forests. But the song wasn’t exactly right and surely, I reasoned, Wood Thrushes wouldn’t be singing unless they’re on their northern breeding grounds. Song, after all, is about establishing, defining and maintaining breeding territory. But still, I was hearing something very much like a Wood Thrush and some research on Xeno-canto (perhaps the ultimate repository of bird vocalizations) leads me to think that I was indeed hearing the songs of Ruddy-capped Nightingale Thrushes; although I’ll probably never know for sure.

But back to flycatchers for the day’s best birds. I spent a long time watching a pair of Yellowish Flycatchers who seemed quite oblivious to my presence and later I watched a pretty, little, buffy-orange Tufted Flycatcher catching flies; well what else? The interesting thing about this bird was its habit of almost always returning to the very same spot after sallying out to grab a bite to eat; as if it were somehow tethered. Like the Yellowish Flycatchers, it was unconcerned by my approach, so obtaining a good photo was not difficult, I just steadied the camera, framed the shot, focused and waited for the bird to come back. Here it is, my bird of the day from a day that many might not celebrate for bird life, but which I reveled in for the whole experience of a tropical rain forest.

1 February 2015. Finca Lerida, Chiriqui, Panama.  At the end of yesterday’s expedition with Jason he suggested that I might like to make a trip to Finca Lerida some day. He said it’s the closest and most reliable place to see hummingbirds and, if I chose to visit, I might expect to see Green Violet Ears, White-throated Mountain Gems as well as Scintillant and Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds. A day of hummingbirds sounded like a good way to spend this second half of the weekend and since it would be just a $5 taxi ride, I followed his suggestion.

Finca translates roughly as estate, farm or ranch. Some years ago the owner of Finca Lerida, this sprawling hillside coffee plantation, saw an opportunity to share the beauty of the estate, set in its frame of towering jungle-clad mountains, by creating a relatively small but glittering bed and breakfast, restaurant and coffee-shop. He succeeded, it is very pretty and there are many extraordinarily scenic stops throughout the property.I wasn’t there to criticize, but I suspect that few visitors give a moment’s thought to how many thousands of acres of virgin forest were cleared in its creation or ponder the pros and cons of coffee monoculture.

I used the term glittering to describe the public face to emphasize the exuberant use of colour. The broad splashes and sweeps of gold, scarlet and magenta are almost shocking. There are huge Angels Trumpet (or Brugmansia) trees carrying hundreds of pendulous pink, orange or cream flowers. Extravagant banks of Bougainvillea provide waves of colour-shock, while familiar flowering plants like Impatiens and Fuschia line and define paths. And it is perhaps the thousands of brilliant orange flowering bushes (I wish I knew what they were) that hold the most appeal for hummingbirds.

Finca Lerida welcomes birders and provides a guide to a number of trails that skirt the background forest; I walked them all. My notes of the day record: ” ..I set off to walk the trails of Finca Lerida. It was several hours of walking of the kind I like best. There was always something fascinating: ferns of all sizes from the minute to 10M tree-size, leaf shapes and patterns, flowers, towering trees, bamboo and all a-tangle. I couldn’t help thinking of the early Spanish soldiers and merchants and the impenetrability of how it must have been. I hiked out to a putative waterfall, which, while vertiginous, was truly puny, perhaps a garden hose volume dropping over greened cliff. Back at Finca Lerida I enjoyed an hour or so of ambush photography of hummingbirds. I know I have Green Violet-ear, Scintillant and Rufous tailed – but what else?…and a photo of what I took to be a euphonia of some sort but can’t make a match.” (It turned out to be a Slate-throated Redstart.)

That hour of ‘ambush photography’ produced many duds as expected, but it’s a numbers game and inevitably some turned out okay. I had little idea what species I was photographing, but no matter, if I get a decent shot I can always i.d it later. It turns out that most were Green-Violet Ears, a self-explanatory name if ever there was. But I’m pretty sure there are a couple of Scintillant and Rufous-tailed Hummingbird shots and the odd mystery bird. Identification really didn’t matter a lot, they are all extreme exotics and, as always, it’s more about the day, the place and the experience.

Footnote. One of the things about hummingbirds that often catches my attention is their many fanciful names. (At least among English-speakers.) I suppose it’s something of a reflection of the somewhat cutesy and frivolous view we hold of them. A quick review in the index of The Birds of Panama came up with: Greenish Puffleg, White-vented Plumeleteer, Humboldt’s Sapphire, Green-breasted Mango and Violet Sabrewing; and that’s just in Panama. It’s as if they’re viewed more like Christmas tree decoration than a marvellously adapted and sophisticated family of birds.

There are several galleries of photos in this post.  They’re visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.