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April 12 2013,  LaSalle Marina, Burlington ON. We’ve just been swept by a very late winter storm.  It came at us slowly from the west, we had plenty of warning: expect freezing rain, or ice pellets, or snow; expect chaos on the highways and expect flooding. And just as predicted it swept over us taking a day and a half to do all of those things, if you stayed indoors and maybe read a book or had a nap, it was all right.  Some people went birding I expect, but not me.

This afternoon, in the calm after the storm, I went to see what birds were around, to see if any oddities had blown in, or maybe friends blown away.  At a nearby marina a small group of very cold men were trying to recapture and reconnect a bunch of floating docks that had broken loose and washed up on a distant shore.  For a while it was all rather discouraging, even the birding was hardly noteworthy.  I was mildly interested in six pairs of Gadwall, maybe they’ll nest around here I thought.  A couple of male Mute Swans were pummeling each other in an effort to impress a female who seemed to be paying them little attention. Several pairs of Red-breasted Mergansers were prowling along the shore and sort of grunted at me as they swam off. There seemed to be American Coots everywhere and for a while I rolled the alliterative pairing ‘Coot Country’ around my brain, but eventually that too faded.

Trudging back to the car I spotted a Caspian Tern just a few yards away, low and flying parallel to the shore.  My first of the year; and it made me think wow! and thereby qualified as Bird of the Day.  Invigorated, I pulled out my notebook and started to jot down my sightings, I remembered that I’d heard a Carolina Wren and a Northern Flicker; I’d seen a Pied Billed Grebe, a Brown Creeper and three or four Golden-crowned Kinglets up close.

A little later I stopped to check a raft of ducks I’d spotted just offshore and found that they were mostly Ruddy Ducks with a handful of scaup (not sure which kind) mixed in. A couple of Turkey Vultures sailed low overhead and a Common Grackle was squeaking and creaking for his mate’s benefit.  This winter storm will be forgotten in no time, and then we can get on with spring.

April 8 2013. Caledonia ON.  After a fulfilling morning at the bird observatory, a morning that produced lots of welcome sightings: Osprey, Eastern Phoebe and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker among them, I drove home wondering what would be next.  Spring migrants are streaming in, we heard our first Northern Flicker, a flight of three ponderous Great-blue Herons laboured their way nortward high above the river and the first Tree Swallows were swirling around checking out nest boxes. And I surprised myself with a couple of on-the-go shots of a group of Common Mergansers flying upstream.

There’s rain and a chance of thunder in the forecast; such turbulence does funny things sometimes setting off a cascade of new birds.  And if we do get a decent April rain it will prompt a frenzy of amphibian activity: Wood Frogs, Chorus Frogs and salamanders will all be racing (as only an amphibian can race) to the nearest pond to get the egg laying underway.

As I joined a fast moving four-lane stream of traffic I noticed something along the edge of a dun-coloured field.  The traffic was reasonably sane so I pulled over, set my four-way flashers going and grabbed my binoculars.  As I’d suspected, a male Woodland Turkey was strutting along a hedgerow, fanning his tail to proclaim his dominion.  Somewhere in that vicinity he has a harem of lady friends, or at least he’s making plans to.  I managed to get my camera out and zoom in on him for this lucky, but hardly award-winning, shot. His impromptu appearance made him my Bird of the Day.

And if you’re wondering what species a Woodland Turkey is, well, I’m on a one man mission to get the so-called Wild Turkey renamed.  Here’s a link to my rant on this topic.

April 6 2013.  Beamer Falls Conservation Area. Grimsby, ON.  There’s a place not far from here that has become the place to watch migrant hawks returning in spring to breed.  It can be pretty spectacular, I’ve been there on mid April days to see hundreds of Sharp-shinned Hawks buzz by at tree-top level, and I recall one warm cumulus cloud day when we tallied over 2,400 Broad-winged Hawks circling high overhead.  But it can be a bit hit and miss and we’ve come to appreciate and expect other reliable passage migrants including Tree Swallows, Blue Jays and Northern Flickers.

Fox Sparrows are also regulars at this time of year.  They hang around with American Tree Sparrows, Song Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos scratching in the leaf litter beneath some sunflower and millet loaded feeders.  It was a bit cold for hawks this morning so, from the shelter of my car I tried, without great success, to see if I could get a decent photograph of a Fox Sparrow.  As sparrows go they’re quite pretty, melodious and even enchanting, but for all that there’s no Fox Sparrow Appreciation Society that I’m aware of.  Maybe it’s because they’re just sparrows which puts them in the LBJ (little Brown Job) category.  Such dismissal is a loss to society because foxies are cut above ordinary brown, they have rich chestnut-red wings, rump and tail feathers, a liberal sprinking of reddish spots on their flanks and breast, and a patch of chestnut on their cheeks. (Click on the picture above at left to get a better idea.) It’s true that they tend to skulk out of sight a lot, but they make up for it by singing frequently, a musical song that Pete Dunne (who always seems to masterfully capture the essence of a song) describes as  “Sounds like a lazy or dreamy R2-D2 of Star Wars fame”.

As for hawks, well there were a few.  Perhaps my bird of the day should have been the Northern Goshawk that sailed low overhead, skirting the edge of the parking lot allowing us all a good look. Dozens of Turkey Vultures waltzed by like a parade of undertakers, a single Sharp-shinned Hawk darted through the trees carrying what I suspect was formerly a junco, and an American Kestrel spun low overhead fanning its banded tail as it turned.  But I liked the Fox Sparrows best, maybe even enough to start a Fox Sparrow Appreciation Society.

April 4 2013.  Bronte, ON. The town immediately to the east of us is a rather high-priced place.  It has miles of Lake Ontario shoreline, a couple of pretty high-end marinas and plenty of gracious neighbourhoods.  It also has some good birding spots.  This afternoon I was reminded of the desirability of waterfront properties when, through my binoculars, I followed the flight of an American Kestrel.  It flew strongly from the water’s edge, across a grassy park and up to the top of a newly completed, several-storey apartment building.  As I looked intently at the kestrel I gradually recognised that a woman of perhaps my baby-boomer age, dressed in form-fitting and fashionable exercise clothes and standing on a  Stepmaster or Fitnessform treadmill, was glaring back at me through the window of her penthouse with a view.  Hmmm. Well I’ve been coming here longer than she’s been standing there!

I was at one of the town’s marinas to see if the Red-necked Grebes had started their spring courtship dances yet.  I watched them last year and marveled at their aquatic synchonization and braying love songs; I don’t want to miss this year’s performances.  I think it’s still too cold.  They have formed pair bonds but seem more content to float around like a couple of logs; they don’t stray very from each other though and I’m sure they know exactly what to do when the time is right.  A day or two of warm spring weather and I think it’ll be the Sound of Music all over again.

Just along the path I came upon a female Common Goldeneye working the rocky shoreline diving for food.  Interesting because goldeneyes prefer deeper water and this one spent a long time diving in shallow water within a few feet of passersby; I actually wondered if it was sick, it had a rather manic expression. In any event it was interesting to be able to study it at such close quarters and even to be able to watch it underwater.  I managed to get several photos including some of it diving and a few more just as it surfaced. Here’s some of them; my Bird of the Day Common Goldeneye.

3 April 2013.  Ruthven Park, Cayuga, ON.  Spring banding and observations restarted 2 days ago at the bird observatory, and today was my first day back there. We’re at the observatory four months of the year, April, May, September and October.  The overall pattern is the same, spring birding activities start against a backdrop of bare trees and cold snaps, and ends in mosquitoey T-shirt weather; September and October is the reverse.  This early April may be remembered for its snow squalls and a cutting north wind but despite that a good influx of birds.

There’s more about the bird observatory on a separate page, click here for more.

My Bird of the Day was almost my first bird of the day, a Golden Crowned Kinglet found lying quietly in one of the mist nets. I quickly removed it and was astonished by the vivid splash of scarlet and gold that runs lengthwise along its crown.  It’s a wee mite of a bird that manages to survive our northern winters quite handily feeding on insect eggs and larvae found in the corners and crevices of trees, mostly conifers.  When temperatures spiral far below freezing Golden Crowned Kinglets huddle together and take it in their stride.  Under a kinglet’s external plumage are layers of insulating down feathers which enable its fast-metabolizing system to maintain a viable core temperature and to come out the other side of the winter intact. That’s not to say there aren’t losses, something like 80% of young birds fail to survive their first year; consider that a kinglet pair will raise 4 or 5 young every year for perhaps 3 breeding years, that’s 12 – 15 babes just to replace themselves and maintain a stable population.

As is almost customary, I completed the daily census, an hour or two walk around a prescribed route recording all birds seen or heard.  There were clumps of ice still lining the riverbank, the ground was crunchy and icy-crisp and a lazy wind (one too tired to go around, it prefers to cut straight through) brought tears to my eyes and nose. Regardless of the weather I enjoy the census as an opportunity to stretch my legs and to see what’s out there, there’s a bit of an internal challenge too, to see just how many species I can find. In mid-late May, fifty or even sixty species is achievable; at the end of October, twenty is a good number.

Today it was a surprisingly good (to me) twenty-nine, including some friends I’ve missed these past months: a sole Eastern Phoebe staying close to the river where there was some hope of insects to eat, a trio of Eastern Bluebirds, two obviously courting and one who was using the bare branches of a tree to watch for food in the grass below, and several Brown-headed Cowbirds.  On the river were all three species of Merganser: Hooded, Red-breasted and Common, five Wood Ducks, a handful of Mallards, three Great Blue Herons and a bottomless supply of Canada Geese.

The churring call of Red-bellied Woodpeckers was a welcome sound, and another sound that was new to me, was the buzzy electric trills of Common Redpolls, an irregular winter visitor that has appeared in large numbers this past winter and has yet to decide it’s time to head back north.  We banded several and they really are a pretty little bird; like most finches.

Many of today’s birds: Northern Cardinal, Eastern Tufted Titmouse, Blue Jay, Brown Creeper and Turkey Vulture would hardly rate a mention at other times.  But they all have their charm and when they mark the end of winter so much the better.