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Eastport, Hamilton, ON. December 26 2022. The bitterly cold storm of this Christmas Day will be remembered for a long time by the many who had it hard. Perhaps surprisingly, with the wind’s direction in our favour, we got off lightly. Had we lived downwind of the lake we might well be digging our way out of a metre or two of snow.

Before lunch today I checked open water along the lakeshore, not really expecting much in the way of variety but rather just to enjoy the usual winter waterfowl, things like Long-tailed Ducks, White–winged Scoters, Common and Red–breasted Mergansers and Common Goldeneyes.  They were all there, drifting their way through winter.

I took the service road that skirts the rim of the industrial harbour and was lucky to glimpse a fast-flying sickle, – a small falcon. Merlin or Kestrel? I pulled over hoping to catch a better look, and luckily another one came up from behind me to land atop a streetlight a little further along. One quick look was all I got – an  American Kestrel, lovely! But the light was poor and it soon flicked away.

Although it’s six months off-season, I have the Ontario Breeding Bird Atlas in mind and a pair of them nested in this area two summers ago, my hopeful suspicion is that these were the same birds and that they’ll nest again.

Later, on my return, I kept a watchful eye for the kestrels and was very pleased to spot one of them, rocking in the gusts at the top of a wind-torn tree. This time I had a better vantage point and much better light. He was busy ripping apart a rodent of some kind, far too busy refuelling to bother with onlookers like me. Such is the life, death and purpose of a roadside mouse – post-Christmas dinner for my Bird of the Day.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Cootes Paradise, Hamilton. ON. December 18 2022. Ending my walk, I turned to look back and was struck by the silvery-ness of this shallow, remnant lake at the west end of Lake Ontario. I was finishing a long, almost bird-less, walk and realized now that silver had dominated this December day.

Almost bird-less but for ducks and swans. A small flock of Tundra Swans sat far from shore, most of them with their heads turned and tucked underwing, just whiling away winter. I think they should have kept on going east to the Atlantic seaboard, as most Tundra Swans surely have to: Virginia, North Carolina, perhaps Chesapeake Bay.  Open water means access to food and however cold this winter may become; the ocean does not freeze.

There were about thirty of them in a strung-out cluster of bright white against the opposite shore. There were Northern Shovelers, Gadwall and Mallards too, here and there, busy about daily life until a Bald Eagle appeared from somewhere and they all took off in an explosive panic until the threat drifted away. The swans were quite unmoved, apparently eagle-panic is not in their makeup.

Steadying my camera, I took several long-shot photos of the swans, they don’t really tell you much, except that a couple of them are youngsters, hatched this year and still smudged with sooty grey.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Cootes Paradise, Hamilton. ON. December 17 2022. Under a rather sullen sky I suggested we get out and get some exercise. It was not the sort of weather to inspire much of anything, instead it was windy, raw and hovering around freezing. (I know one or two birders who profess to love a day like this).

Birds of trees were hard to find, but ducks were plentiful and we scanned groups of Mallards, Northern Shovelers and Gadwall making the most of the open water.  Northern Shoveler males (above) are a little on the gaudy and disheveled side while Gadwall males are distinctly not. (below) – there’s something rather Bank of England about them; well dressed, confident and subdued. Gadwall are welcome any time.

In a low and soggy inlet that always seems to hold some active bird life even on the coldest days, there was movement: a Song Sparrow, possibly two. And then a wren – maybe. Each time I got my binoculars on the right spot it had moved. I suspected Carolina Wren but hoped for Winter Wren. Winter Wrens are so tiny they can be forgiven for being a bit pushy.  Carolina Wrens, on the other hand, are more like the noisy neighbour who plays his kind of music loud and takes liberties in the belief that everyone loves him.

Well it was a Carolina Wren and it showed itself for a few minutes.

Right. I thought. Don’t move and I’ll get some photos of you. Maybe then I’ll come to like you. It did, I did and then liked this Carolina Wren a lot (above and below). Certainly, My Bird of the Day today.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. November 21 2022. With a few days of unseasonably cold weather behind us, we walked the valley today. It was above freezing, at last, and the valley had a bruised and battered feel about it.

The birding was meagre: Black-capped Chickadees, Red-bellied Woodpeckers and White-breasted Nuthatches followed us hoping for handouts. We took several minutes to admire a male Northern Cardinal, brilliant against a rather drab background, and glimpsed what may turn out to be the last Fox Sparrow of the season.

Our walk was more about getting fresh air and exercise.  Anything airborne turned out to be a late-falling leaf or so we thought,  until we spotted three large black birds surfing the blustery south-west wind. Three young Bald Eagles, maybe migrants but quite possibly locals.  One moment they were soaring and sliding on the opposite side of the valley and disappearing behind trees, and the next minute, one would reappear swooping up and circling around behind us. It was a short-lived performance. It endorses my view that no matter how apparently unproductive or dismal the day may be, there’s always at least one bird that stands out and makes me say (or maybe just think) Wow!  Bald Eagles – My Birds of the Day today.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON November 17 2022. If there really is an Old Man Winter, a windblown, mean-spirited soul who touches ponds with ice and scatters snow squalls, then he just paid us a visit. We woke to a thin touch of snow, a centimetre maybe, enough that you could (and I have) use its novelty to get a twelve-year-old to wake up on a school morning.

But discouraging as a touch of winter may be, it doesn’t last long in November and you can always dress for a cold day. So, I hiked the valley today, aware that species after species has paraded through and gone south, it has become all but emptied of birds.

Almost last in the transients’ parade are the Fox Sparrows of October/November, and today I was surprised and pleased to come upon a group of five searching the trail-side leaf litter for food. They have a distinctive and apparently efficient jump-scratch technique for sorting the deep leaf debris, that and their foxy-red colour are what makes them so eye-catching. Where sparrows in general are brown, Fox Sparrows are a rich reddish-brown and their pale breasts are dotted with chevrons of a somewhat darker foxy red. I spent a few minutes watching and enjoying them, doubly pleased because now it was a big Fox Sparrow year for me. Just four days ago I’d spent several minutes studying another one who was busy doing that same jump-scratch search for food.

Later, as I was about to start on the home stretch, a small group of Hooded Mergansers caught my attention as they scurried away from a pond edge. I’m sure I’ve commented before that the male Hooded Merganser looks almost military in dress and style, perhaps a junior officer in a brigade of Habsburg hussars. The females by contrast are rather plain but the males take on this handsome plumage in early fall and small family groups are fairly common, you’d probably miss them if the males weren’t so conspicuous. Hooded Mergansers could have been My Birds of the Day were it not for the Fox Sparrows who won hands down.