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August 24, 2012.  Cootes Paradise, Hamilton, ON. Just a hot summer day today.  This morning on some nearby mudflats I made out a Black-bellied Plover, Greater & Lesser Yellowlegs, and a probable Short–billed Dowitcher.  There were lots of Killdeer running around and a Semi–palmated Plover or two as well. This particular marsh always seems to attract Great Egretsin late summer, and today I counted twelve.

They, and numerous Mute Swans, make bright white splotches everywhere, rendering the Great Blue Herons almost invisible by contrast.

This afternoon I volunteered help at a fish control experiment.  I watched an Osprey make three plunging attempts to catch a fish and on its last go it managed to seize a small wriggling perch.  Then a little later I was pleased to hear a Warbling Vireo singing tentatively in the nearby willows. It seems odd to hear bird song in the late summer / fall but it’s quite common, particularly among robins.  The song is never full-on, more hesitant and rarely complete.  Why should this be?

I have read that levels of testosterone increase in some songbirds in the autumn.  Elevated testosterone levels lead to the onset of breeding behaviour, including song.  But what prompts testosterone production, and why now?

Somewhere I think I read or heard that late summer /fall birdsong may be prompted by daylight length.  That makes sense in the spring.  We are now two months past the summer solstice so our daylight length is the same as two months before the summer solstice, or mid/late April, and the robins were certainly singing then; however the Warbling Vireos hadn’t even arrived.  I would appreciate anyone’s thoughts on this.

Anyway hearing the Warbling Vireo this afternoon was a wow moment, and it was my bird of the day.

August 22, 2012. Lowville, ON.  Changes in weather hinting at cooler days to come prompt our birds of summer to start heading south.  Arctic-nesting shorebirds began showing up around here in July and now the passerines (perching birds or, less accurately, songbirds) too are on the move.

Today I accepted an invitation to join a young birder in exploring his home turf to look for migrant warblers.  He’d seen 14 species a few days ago so he was optimistic and I was keen to learn more.  As it happened there were many fewer migrants evident today.  I explained to him that they seem to move in waves; you’ll get great days with lots of birds and then a lull until a change in the weather drops the next broad hint to get going.

I learned a useful lesson from him, to listen for vocal chickadees; where there’s chickadees there’s often other birds (warblers in this case). Over three hours we encountered 3 or 4 little microbursts of chickadees and warblers.  Our tally included Canada Warblers, American Redstarts , a beautifully close-up view of an Ovenbird, Black and White Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler and a Wilson’s Warbler.  Added to that were a few Red–eyed Vireos, an undetermined “Empidonax” flycatcher, Eastern Wood Peewee and, as my Bird of the Day, a close but briefly seen Great Crested Flycatcher.  The warblers were all great birds, challenging and rewarding, but somehow it was the Great Crested Flycatcher that was part way through it’s post breeding molt but still quite colourful, that made me exclaim Wow! For my young companion his BotD was the Ovenbird for the same equally good reason, it made him say wow!

August 19 2012.  Bruce Trail, Walkers Line, Halton ON. I stumbled upon early signs of another chapter in the birds’ year today, the southbound, or fall, migration of warblers, vireos, flycatchers and the like.

I set out quite early to continue my study of fern species.  After a rather long, uphill and mostly unproductive search, I was returning along a well travelled hiking trail when I heard a familiar, rather liquid chip note coming from a small goldenrod and dogwood break in the forest.  I paused and tried a chip note of my own in return expecting a Common Yellowthroat to react.  To my surprise a young Canada Warbler popped up, and then another. And as I watched I realized there were many more small birds flitting around including: a Willow Flycatcher (probably, although it could have been a Least or Alder Flycatcher; they’re almost indistinguishable at this time of year) two or three young Bay–Breasted Warblers, a couple of Orange–crowned Warblers and best of all, a Wilson’s Warbler.

Later while still looking for ferns at another site, I apparently offended a family of White-breasted Nuthatches who were soon reinforced by a very vocal Red–breasted Nuthatch and two Scarlet Tanagers.

It was a successful fern day in the end and the Wilsons’s Warbler with its natty black cap carried the day.  They are one of those fleeting warbler species that we see in May, if we’re lucky, on its way to the alder and willow swamps of Hudson Bay lowlands.  It’s a privilege to see them at any time; and especially good today.

Footnote:  Wilson’s Warbler today, Wilson’s Snipe a couple of days ago. Wilson’s Phalarope on May 5th.  If I get to see and report on Wilson’s Petrel  and Wilson’s Plover we’ll have a complete set.

August 16 2012.  Mountsberg ON.  If you’ve been following me closely over the past few days perhaps you’ve noticed some repetition in my birding.  It’s been all about shorebirds of late; I’m trying to learn more about them.

Shorebirds make many birders throw up their hands in despair:  “They all look the same.” and  “They’re so difficult to make out.” And it’s true, they are difficult.  But, like so many bird groups (and ferns and goldenrods too, I’m finding out) there’s really a rather limited palette of likely candidates at any one time.

Sometimes it’s the field guides that scare us off. The National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of North America describes in detail about 80 species of what we might loosely call shorebirds. Eighty! But wait, around here only half of those shorebird species have ever been recorded; and of all of those I’d say you have a reasonable chance, if you work at it, of seeing about 15 in any one year.

It gets simpler as you study them because there are some distinctive family groups like plovers and sandpipers that help narrow the field.  After that you have to concentrate.  It’s not like reading People magazine, you do have to think for yourself.

Today for example, my companion and I found a mystery shorebird lurking at just about the limit of our aided vision.  At first we knew just one thing, that it was different.  It wasn’t a Greater or Lesser Yellowlegs and it wasn’t a duck or a Killdeer, there were plenty of those around.  We squinted and strained to make out detail, and we could see that it had an extraordinarily long bill; twice the length of its head.  It fed with a probing, sewing-machine action.  We wondered if it was a Short-billed Dowitcher, but it was not quite right.  As the bird moved around we started to make out some facial detail and distinctive stripes on its head and eventually, long lines down the length of its back. Wilson’s Snipe seemed most likely, our field guide supported our suspicions, and when it shuffled along with a snipe’s distinctive short-legged waddle, that clinched it.  Interestingly once we knew in our minds what it was, it all became crystal clear literally and metaphorically; there was no doubt. A great learning experience.

My companion studied and triumphantly identified a rather drab Hooded Merganser and it became her Bird of the Day, but for me it was the hard-won Wilson’s Snipe.  Here’s a photo of one taken earlier this year.

August 15 2012. Badenoch, ON.  I can never look at an Osprey these days without thinking back to my adolescent years in the U.K.  Back then (the 60s) Ospreys were avian rock stars, and I blandly assumed that I would never ever see one in my life; shows how short sighted a young lad in post war England could be.

Ospreys had been extirpated from Great Britain by 1915; they were the targets of gamekeepers whose job it was to maintain healthy stocks of fish and game for their landowner employers.  Probably Ospreys were never very abundant so the methodical destruction of these conspicuously nesting birds was quite easily accomplished.  The Osprey vanished from the landscape so the salmon stocks were spared some trauma; all they had to worry about were the gentlemen anglers.

Then, sensationally, in the 50s a pair appeared on Loch Garten in northern Scotland. Ospreys are found on every continent except Antarctica, so the rest of the European population had presumably survived okay; it’s not far from Scandinavia to Scotland for strong flyer like the Osprey so a return to the British Isles was more or less just a matter of time.  This time the Osprey pair was cherished and closely guarded, they were avian rock stars remember, and in due course nested successfully; today the Osprey is well reestablished, and at last count there were over 180 nesting pairs in Great Britain.

Much the same fate befell the White-tailed Sea Eagle, which was reputed to snatch innocent lambs from their mothers’ care and was therefore a blight to be eliminated.  They too have since been reestablished to breed along the west coast of Scotland; but that’s another story.

Today after a pleasant hour or so scanning mudflats for shorebirds, with reasonable success (including yesterday’s Black Bellied Plover again, Lesser and Greater Yellowlegs, Least Sandpipers and a few well hidden Pectoral Sandpipers) I found myself driving through a small settlement that rated little more than a handful of houses and a small park with a baseball diamond.  It was important enough though to have floodlights, and on the top of a bank of lights a pair of Ospreys has established this nest.  They’ve been breeding for several years on this nest which is now starting to appear a little lopsided.

A very respectful, even nurturing, relationship obviously exists between today’s enlightened sportsmen and these Ospreys; quite a contrast to the tactics of sportsmen a century ago.