Category: Uncategorized

17 November 2014. Burlington ON.  If the first snow of winter should occur overnight it can be a useful aid in getting a determinedly sleeping, school-aged boy awake and out of bed. “Hey, Graham! There’s snow outside!” And Bingo, he’s up! It usually worked once a year, sometimes twice.

Our children are long past that stage now but we still get first of the winter snowfalls; it came last night and continued all morning. I had early errands to do but stopped at a favourite spot to see how snow was affecting the birds.

Well, firstly, this was a day to be a photographer, the quiet wet snow had outlined everything to Christmas Card perfection. Secondly, a coating of snow makes life tough for birds; it’s easy to forget that, and at this time with many late migrants still around, their distress was obvious. The snow had driven them to search for food in places which previously they probably would have avoided. I was quite surprised by the number of sparrows, in particular, seen hanging around bare roadsides looking for food. Snow and hungry birds made for some great, if slightly clichéd, shots but the still-falling snow was wet and I had to be careful not to soak my camera. That same caution seemed to have kept the often-encountered opportunist photographers at home; I had the place to myself. Here in a gallery visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email, are a few of today’s shots of adorable, if hungry, birds.

It was while dodging and stepping carefully around puddles of slush, that I noticed the arrival of a group of what I took to be sparrows, land some distance away. I’d left my binoculars in the car (water on lens avoidance again) so wasn’t sure what I was seeing. So I took a couple of long shots for later scrutiny and promptly forgot about them, they soon flew away.

Later as I was reeling through the morning’s cutesy images, I came across those two quick-shots and almost exclaimed out loud. What are these? Oddly my first thought was Redwings, not Red-winged Blackbirds, but Redwings, a pretty little winter thrush of north eastern Europe. Well, clearly it wasn’t that, and it wasn’t until I got home that I was able to take a better look to confirm my second thought, American Pipits. Here they are.

American Pipits aren’t particularly rare, but being birds of open fields and shorelines, they just seem to slip by under the radar. They are closely related to the Old World wagtails and share much of their rather effervescent charm.  American Pipits winter well south of the Mason Dixon Line in the U.S.A, and breed in our far north far beyond the tree line; so for us they’re transients passing through and this is the right time of year to see them. While  not especially noteworthy to those who collect rarities, I was pleased to see them, my Birds of the Day.

14 November 2014. Hamilton and Burlington ON There has been a lot of fuss recently about a Wilson’s Phalarope lingering on some nearby mudflats and making itself generally available to those who would photograph or otherwise record its presence. In the course of some errands I found myself (An odd expression since I wasn’t lost!) close to its reported location, so made a short diversion to take a look. Well, there it was, exactly where everyone said, fluffed up, neck drawn down and hunched. It stood quietly with its back to a cold wind that owed more to January than November. I’ve got to admit that I was underwhelmed, feeling rather flat about this lovely little bird; maybe because there was no element of surprise in finding it, no wow! moment.

It did get up and run around for a while mixing in with squads of shuffling Green-winged Teal. Its slender, finely drawn features put it in the fine-china category of shorebirds, but dressed as it was in its winter greys and looking a little abandoned, it was well, nice but a little uninspiring. I think I quite unreasonably expected more of it.

Phalaropes are dainty little shorebirds; worldwide there are only three species, all of which breed in the northern reaches of North America, two of the three in Ontario. Wilson’s Phalaropes head to western South America for our winter, they gather in tens of thousands at highly saline lakes in the highlands of central Andes in Peru, Chile and Bolivia. The time to see them at their best is on their return spring journey when the females in particular are extremely showy. One of the pictures in the gallery below (visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email) includes many spring plumage Wilson’s Phalaropes, it was taken by a companion in El Salvador in May of 2013.

Later in the day I stopped briefly to see what waterfowl had shown up in the harbour; it will soon be a mass of wintering ducks, species like Common Goldeneye, Bufflehead and Greater Scaup. In my brief scan I quickly picked up Trumpeter Swans, Red-breasted Merganser, Redheads and Canvasbacks, all nice birds. It’s not that I’m comparing Canvasbacks to Wilson’s Phalaropes, but the delight of seeing a Canvasback, a rather highborn looking duck, had that little wow! moment that made it, in some ways, a real Bird of the Day rather than the oh-yeah-there-it-is-ness of the earlier phalarope.

11 November 2014. Burlington ON. This just might have been the last warm day of the year. Taking advantage of this beautiful grab-it-while-you-can day, we took our exercise along a bird-rich valley and were well rewarded.

My companion soon spotted a very unexpected Cooper’s Hawk sitting on the railing of a large pedestrians-only bridge. Knowing that Cooper’s Hawks rarely tolerate human closeness for long, and hoping for a perfect photograph, I moved closer as unobtrusively as possible. Well, the results weren’t great but here’s what we saw.

Recently I dwelt on the mild embarrassment of being phalaroped; that is to say, leading myself down the garden path to an incorrect identification. I came close again today. We approached a group of three smallish birds high overhead in a bare, perhaps dead, tree. Through binoculars and craning my neck, I struggled to make an identification. Eventually I concluded that I was looking at three juvenile Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. I thought I was seeing the streaky underside of three young males with a vague patch of crimson at the throat. Their size was right, the timing was okay, but not perfect, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks should be well on their way to Guatemala by now, and frustratingly, I couldn’t think what else they might be. Fox Sparrows was a possibility, although I don’t associate them with tree-tops, they are birds of the forest floor that like to scratch around in leaf litter. My camera is the perfect tool in marginal viewing situations like this, so propping it against a stable surface, I took several pictures for closer scrutiny later. I’m glad I did for that’s when the Rose-breasted Grosbeak idea came unstuck.

Above (in a gallery visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email.)  are a couple of reasonable photos of today’s birds as well as another individual in the hand for comparison. I make today’s birds Fox Sparrows. Here’s why: The imagined crimson at the throat turns out more of an agglomeration of brownish-red spots the same colour as its wings and under-tail, and consistent with a common field mark of Fox Sparrows. The reddish chevrons on the breast and belly are right for a Fox Sparrow, and wrong for a grosbeak. I’m left, however, puzzling over these three being way up high and exposed on top of a tree when I always though of them as birds of the low leafy understory. Most reference books make that point, only Pete Dunne acknowledges that Fox Sparrows, when flushed, often fly straight to take a high perch in a tree. Conclusion: there’s always something to be learned and the birds don’t necessarily read the texts.

There were other nice birds this morning. Notably, several shiny Green-winged Teal dabbling and swimming alongside some, giant by comparison, Mallards. Later a Sharp-shinned Hawk wheeled low overhead showing off the bands of its fanned tail and its under-wing patterns.

2 November 2014. Cayuga ON.  This Bird of the Day story started this same first weekend of November three years ago when I was taking part in our local naturalists’ clubs annual Fall Bird Count. A companion and I were criss-crossing an expanse of quiet countryside, mostly farmland and deciduous woodlots. A wide, yet generally shallow, river marked the west boundary of our chosen area, and it was on the shore of this river that we came across a sensational sighting, a phalarope; at least that’s what I made it out to be. On the opposite, gravelly, margin of the river I saw a small grayish shorebird wading chest-deep, or possibly swimming, darting and twirling in a frantic chase for food. It was really at the limit of reasonable binocular viewing, but I was almost certain that it was a phalarope of some kind. But… I hadn’t seen many phalaropes in my life, wasn’t really sure which of two or three of the world’s species it might possibly be, and wondered if it wasn’t getting a bit late for in the fall for them anyway.

Well, after my excitement had died down, and in the exercise of an abundance of caution, my companion and I drove to share the triumph with, or maybe solicit the help of, an expert birder who was rather easily convinced to come and look. By the time he arrived, there was no phalarope to be seen, however we could see a Lesser Yellowlegs picking and prodding for food along the same stretch of shoreline. I think it would be a 99.999% certainty that this was the very same bird that we’d seen, chest deep in water, barely an hour earlier. We thereupon coined the term ‘phalaroped’ as the term for willfully allowing yourself to be misled as to a bird’s identity. Being phalaroped is one of the realities of birding; it happens too often.

These photos, the two above of a bunch of distant Red-necked Phalaropes  (click photo to enlarge) and one below of a Lesser Yellowlegs, may help illustrate how, under marginal viewing conditions, they could be confused.

Today I undertook to cover that same territory for this year’s Fall Bird Count. It was sunny and cold and we encountered some notables including a flock of 45 House Finches, a young Bald Eagle being harassed by three Red-tailed Hawks and a Northern Harrier, always an elegant bird. But best Birds of the Day came at that same river’s edge where, to my astonishment, on the opposite, gravelly, margin were two Lesser Yellowlegs ! Same time and place; could it possibly be that one of them was the same bird as my phalarope of three years ago?

30 October 2014. Burlington ON. The study of birds, like many a generally worthwhile pursuit, is a constant learning experience. This morning included a teachable moment that reminded me just how much I don’t know.

Towards the end of a satisfying birding morning we came upon a solitary Snow Bunting that left me almost speechless. I was sure, certain, that we’d found a bird so far out of season as to be at least a mild sensation. After all, Snow Buntings are birds of mid-winter, January and February, they’re birds of hard cold days when the landscape is stark, hostile and windswept, not mild and still leafy as it was today.

I could hardly wait to get home to post a “Guess what I saw!” sighting on our local bird-reports line. But first (at least I’ve learned to look before you leap too far)….a precautionary check of the bible of local birding, Robert Curry’s Birds of Hamilton and Surrounding Areas. Here’s what I read; “We know them as winter visitors along the shores of Lake Ontario and Hamilton Harbour when they first arrive in October, and later in open fields as snow cover develops… In late October, flocks of arriving Snow Buntings sweep along the Lake.” Curry reports mean fall arrival dates in the last week of October. Well, yes, but… Oh never mind, it was a delightful sighting, it made my day (Bird of the Day) and it taught me something I didn’t know; Snow Buntings arrive here in October; look for them. Here’s a few more shots of it in a gallery.

It was not the only highlight of a pleasant two-hour walk through some of the richest, most varied habitat in our region. It started out a little flat with Slate-colored Juncos, White-throated Sparrows and Black-capped Chickadees, nothing wrong with any of those, but nothing all that newsworthy about them either. I had the company of a couple who are fairly new to birding and Marion was pleased when I found a small flock of Eastern Bluebirds, a first for her. A little later we watched a group of Cedar Waxwings feasting on the berries of Tartarian Honeysuckle and were surprised to see a Great Blue Heron perched on a riverside branch, uncharacteristically ambivalent about our closeness. For a while I wondered if it had managed to get itself into a place without an easy exit and therefore making it difficult to fly off, Great Blues are usually quick to distance themselves from any possible human threat.

Reaching an area of shallow water and mudflats, we were treated to a couple of small flotillas of Hooded Mergansers diving for whatever is usually found in shallow silty waters. The males were very spectacular in their striking winter/breeding plumage, especially with their hoods raised. There were Mallards, Northern Shovelers and Green-winged Teals too. The males of these latter three were in different stages of their fall moults which will take them into full breeding plumage. Mallards are now back in full look-at-me plumage, Northern Shovelers part-way there and the Green-winged Teals quite a long way from their Sunday best.

All of the above-mentioned ducks are in this gallery, but you’ll have to be on the website to see them, you’ll not see them if you’re reading this as an email.