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1 April 2014 Hamilton Harbour ON.  I pay attention what birds are being seen around our area but rarely do I drop everything and go.  But this evening I happened upon a note that “a full blown adult male King Eider” had just shown up close to where I found the Pied-billed Grebe just five days ago.

I posted about a trio of King Eiders a few weeks ago, two females and a young male.  The thing is, those three were basically mottled brown; what birders yearn for is a male in breeding plumage, they are so absurdly spectacular.

So grabbing binoculars, camera and spare battery, and with the evening light failing, I made my way there as quickly as I could.  The bird was easy to find just a hundred yards or so offshore, Whether it will still be there in the morning remains to be seen, for as we looked across the water a tight flock of twenty or thirty scaup rose together, circled to gain height and headed away to the northwest.  The hundreds of thousands of bay ducks that crowded these waters just last week have diminished by perhaps 90%.  That avian Berlin Airlift I referred to is a very serious matter, it’s a dash to northern breeding grounds that cannot be delayed; the King Eider may well leave tonight.

. , and inasmuch as a picture is worth a thousand words, here it is.

31 March 2014 Grimsby ON. Birdwatching places tend to have their seasons;  just when and where depends on the lifecycle and biology of the birds in question.  Not too far from home there is a hawk watching spot, it’s a busy place during the spring migration, just two and a half months.  Come snow or shine, a formal hawk count starts on the First of March and human socializing starts as soon as the weather improves; it started today.

I’ve been harping on about the weather, the persistence of winter and all that goes along with it for too long.  Today the sun rose on time and stayed all day warming the earth and driving away the ice imps and frost-devils.

I knew it would be a worthwhile day at the hawk watch if only to catch up with some long-time-no-see friends. It’s been an astonishing thirty-six years since I first spent time here and there have been some notable changes in raptor sightings in that time.  We used to celebrate a Bald Eagle or two per season, maybe one or two Peregrine Falcons and Turkey Vultures, though hardly rare, were not commonplace.  Today Bald Eagles are regulars, Peregrine Falcons reasonably frequent and Turkey Vultures almost reluctantly counted.

Well what about today?  A clear blue sky doesn’t necessarily mean good hawk-watching. Wind strength and direction is important, and against a bright sky with no cloud ceiling the birds can be too high to see.  But for all of the limitations it wasn’t bad. Hundreds of Turkey Vultures sailed by, some almost directly overhead but most to them a mile or so distant and no more than big black dots.  A lone Peregrine Falcon swept low overhead, its black wingtips contrasting against its otherwise pale under-parts.  There were perhaps 30 or 40 Red-tailed Hawks, a handful of Sharp-shinned Hawks and best of all for me today a dozen Red-shouldered Hawks.

The Red-shouldered Hawk is one of just four species of hawk in the genus buteo that may be found regularly in Ontario.  The others: Red-tailed, Rough-legged and Broad-winged Hawks are all captivating birds each in their own way, not the least of the attractions is the bold patterning, and whether seen from above or below doesn’t matter much.

Red-shouldered Hawks often exhibit a distinctive flight rather like Sharp-shinned or Coopers Hawk – a bunch of quick shallow-ish wing beats then a glide: flap-flap-flap-flap…glide.   When circling to ride a thermal of rising air, and backlit, they can be breathtaking.  There’s a finely banded tail, wings with dark trailing edges and black fingertips to set off lighter patches often called windows, and if you’re lucky enough to see it, there’s a wide sweep of robin-red across the forewings and chest.  My camera struggled to focus on this rather high-flying bird but you’ll get the general impression I think.

Outside of about a three week migration window, we don’t see Red-shouldered Hawks all that much in southern central Ontario. We expect them to pass through in early spring long before there are any new leaves to be seen. While the species is widespread across the continent, (and downright common in Florida and California) in Ontario they prefer wet woodlands and there’s plenty to chose from further north. So this rather limited opportunity while certainly not a hardship makes sighting them a mini celebration, and all the more so when you get a beautiful full adult backlit one overhead. Ahh spring!

30 March 2014. Vinemount ON. Over the last 24 hours a large and dirty storm swept from west to east passing just south of us.  For us, the day dawned clear and bright, but listening to National Public Radio from northern New York State I heard countless messages about the storm: its impact, its duration and worst of all how much snow it was expected to leave behind.  I could see the large bank of clouds from where I went exploring, but then suddenly realized that I was driving on roads covered in wet snow, recently fallen snow too. So that storm had come closer than I’d realized, missing my happy town by a dozen kilometers at most.

The birding in this sloppy snow landscape was dismal and my interest soon waned. Horned Larks stood out against the white fields, a disconsolate group of five Tundra Swans squatted on the ice crust of a flooded expanse and a solitary Eastern Meadowlark, perhaps the same one from nine days ago, watched from the top of a hawthorn several yards from the road.

Just when I’d decided that it was time to head home, I caught sight of a Northern Flicker flying overhead.  It was the yellow of its under-wings that gave it away and it set me thinking of how we distinguish between two colour forms of Northern Flicker, the Yellow-shafted of the eastern half of the continent and the Red-shafted of the west. It’s easy enough for us in the east, but the two forms interbreed over much of the middle of the continent causing some confusion for those to whom it matters.

Their call is so distinctive and carries a long way, so hearing one usually comes long before seeing the first flicker of spring.  But today from among of the remnants of a wet winter storm I saw my first flicker of the year and for the pleasure of that sighting. it was clearly My Bird of the Day.

 

29 March 2014 Hamilton Harbour ON.When it comes to describing disagreeable weather, surely one of the most expressive adjectives is raw: a raw wind, a raw day.  It makes me shudder.  Today was such a day despite our efforts to wish it a daffodil spring day; all that you could really say in its favour was that it was above zero.  For migrant birds that’s good enough apparently, a quick trip along the shore of the lake and harbour turned up many birds we haven’t seen in quite a while.  There must be something like an avian Berlin Airlift going on, millions of birds taking flight, heading north and with them, freedom.

I stopped at three or four windows onto the wind-torn harbour and was pleased, though not entirely surprised, to see hundreds, if not thousands, of Common Goldeneyes, Red-breasted Mergansers, Common Mergansers, White-winged Scoters and Buffleheads.  But little sparkles of excitement came from spotting several Ring-necked Ducks, Canvasbacks, Hooded Mergansers and groups of Gadwall, the latter most particularly in more sheltered spots.

A sole Surf Scoter was a surprise.  They’re birds of salt water so I’m pretty sure this one is a migrant on its way to the Arctic Ocean from the Atlantic .  The last time I remember seeing Surf Scoters was on the Pacific coast near Vancouver, large rafts of them feeding happily until disturbed by ocean-going ships, whereupon they’d take off in rolling streams.

For a while I thought of the Surf Scoter as Bird of the Day until I found a Pied-billed Grebe bobbing around just a few yards off shore.  It’s not as though Pied-billed Grebes are particularly rare, it’s that they’re curious.  Late last summer I found and watched one for a long time and then, as now, was taken by how plain and well, improbable they look. Read more here.

By the time I’d enjoyed the grebe and grabbed a couple of pictures of a Black Duck, I was ready to get back in the car.  On my return journey I found a small group of Northern Shovelers to round out a pretty impressive list of nineteen species of ducks and other waterfowl.

While it’s still on my mind, at my last stop, a sandy Lake Ontario beach, I watched with near disbelief, a lone surfer trying to ride the erratic waves.  Working in his favour: surf of a kind driven by a strong easterly wind and a full-body dry suit. Working against him: Plates of ice along the shoreline and in the water, no covering on his face, Choose your own adjective for him.

23 March 2014. Cootes Paradise ,Hamilton ON.  Bird of the Day was a tough decision.  My choices were: a group of five Northern Pintails gathered along the edge of an opening in the ice; Tundra Swans, twenty seven of them, wondering why they’d left their Atlantic havens to find only ice where there was supposed to be water, or; four sub-adult Bald Eagles circling over a group of White Pines.

I visited our local library yesterday expecting to spend much of today indoors since a return to January temperatures was expected.  But although every bit as cold as predicted, the day was bright and I wondered if a brisk walk around some interesting trails might turn up the odd hapless migrant wondering where it’d gone wrong.  It worked, I place the pintails and swans in that category and also added a Great Blue Heron spotted plugging along wondering if it would ever find open water and a bite to eat.

But pleased as I was to find the pintails, they slipped into second place behind the swans. Male Pintails are such graceful ducks, they’re adorned with the avian equivalent of white-wall tires and chrome hood ornaments, I think it must have been a senior apprentice lad at the duck-design studios who created them, starting with an ordinary enough duck but adding as flourishes, an elongated tail and pinstriped necks.  I photographed these two pairs in 2011 in British Columbia. (For now we’ll leave aside any analysis as to why the males have so clearly set themselves apart from the females, or why the photographer appears to agree.)

The Tundra Swans did for me the two or three things for which I value them so highly:  First it’s the sound of them, a high-overhead flock calling amongst themselves, keeping in touch as they fly, a rhythmic, breathy “whoo whoo whoo”.  It always stops me in my tracks to search the sky looking for a long undulating and flashing white V.  I heard them today but I was in a wooded area and couldn’t find the flock; but still, it was there, that sound.  Then half an hour later I found a group, perhaps the same ones I’d heard, sitting on the ice.  They had probably just flown non-stop from the Atlantic coast, some seven or eight hundred kilometers, on the first leg of their journey to their breeding grounds on the shores of Hudson and James Bay. As I admired the group, I heard again a faint call and another eight or ten individuals arrived to join them; and this is where it can be magical.  Their controlled descent from several hundred feet up in full wing-spread, they bank and turn dropping fast and then for the last fifty feet or so they cup their wings like parachutes, spread their webbed feet as brakes, turn into the wind and finally ease down onto the water where, with a quick ruffling wing-fold, they coo and head-bob a greeting.  I could watch them all day.  This photo taken on St Patrick’s Day five years ago captures some of that controlled descent as flocks gathered on Lake Erie.

There was more to enjoy of course, Hairy, Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Red-winged Blackbirds staking out territory in the marshes, a splendid and hungry Blue Jay, Coyotes trotting across frozen expanses of lake and ice yachts going like a bat out of hell.

A review of today’s photos revealed this nice series of shots of a female  Red-bellied Woodpecker. (Click to enlarge. Visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email) The red cap covers only the nape and back half of the head of a female, but on the male it covers the entire head and nape. One of these photos shows as much of its red belly as you’re ever likely to see, a faint characteristic which someone perhaps thought was helpful to incorporate into its name.