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June 23, 2012.  We did the second of two Forest Bird Monitoring (FBMP) surveys early this morning; it’s been nearly three weeks since the first one.  It had been cool overnight, a blessing because it kept the mosquitoes down.

This second survey had a different feel; there was less of a sense of urgency and more of an ‘I just want you to know I’m here’ tone to bird song.  Much the same species were evident: Wood Thrush, Red-eyed Vireo, Hairy Woodpecker, Common Yellowthroat and Ovenbird among them. Later as we left the woods a Yellow–throated Vireo ushered us out, singing high up among the Sugar Maples and oaks.  Sounding a bit like a Red-eyed Vireo with a slur, they’re the Sean Connery among vireos.  Instead of a clear-toned “three eight,- eight three”  or “see me – here I am – way up – tree top”  it was more like “tree ert – treee– tree ert.” Yellow–throated Vireos are not as abundant as the Red-eyed Vireo and this was the first one I’d heard in my two trips into these FBMP woods, it got a wow out of me and was my Bird of the Day.

Later I walked along the river flats at the bird observatory and reveled in a perfect summer day: not too warm, a light breeze and the pervasive sweet clove-like fragrance of Common Milkweed in the air.  It’s a little odd and perhaps anachronistic that Common Milkweed should be officially a ‘Noxious Weed’.  It is one of a family of several milkweeds with attractive, though in some cases subtle, flowers, and its fragrance is among the best of summer.  Its cousin the Butterfly Weed bears large clusters of eye-popping orange flowers.

Along the path Song Sparrows and a Common Yellowthroat all watched me carefully to make sure I didn’t try to dive into the dense grape and dogwood tangles to eat their babies.

A pleasant surprise came later when I heard a Yellow-billed Cuckoo calling softly from a cluster of tall Hackberry trees and try as I might to see it, I was reminded that cuckoos prefer to be heard not seen. I watched in admiration as a Northern Rough-winged Swallow wove large, twisting, roller coaster loops over the river, swerving and stalling to catch flying insects at each turn. Its sharp, high-speed precise aerobatics are the stuff of dreams for the folks at McDonnell Douglas, Lockheed and General Dynamics.

I have sometimes wondered what it takes for some of our more ho-hum birds to make the kind of impression that would qualify it as Bird of the Day status.  I did feature the European Starling one day last fall, it really stood out in its classy newly moulted plumage.  But take the Double-crested Cormorant for example; maybe if they weren’t dressed so somberly they’d be more appreciated, maybe if their guano didn’t destroy their nesting trees they’d find a place in our hearts, and just because they’re generally reviled by fishermen, boaters and lakeside property owners it doesn’t mean their mothers don’t love them. But they are what they are, and no-one seems to care for them very much.

Today on a distinctly urban errand I stopped to see if there was anything interesting out on the lake. Most of the ‘interesting’ waterfowl, things like Common Goldeneye, Bufflehead and Long-tailed Ducks have flown north to nest somewhere more secluded and traditional, somewhere that’s been a part of their genetic makeup for eons.  I wasn’t expecting much , but about half a kilometer offshore a mass of Double-crested Cormorants, about 500 by my best estimate, had gathered in a feeding frenzy, diving excitedly on a large school of small fish.  The whole gorging flock (which also included a few Ring-billed Gulls) moved quickly across the surface in a rolling wave.  I managed to get a couple of decent photographs, in the one below you can also make out a flight of new birds coming in to share the wealth.

On a different note and in appreciation of Victorian nonsense poets I’m including this oddball piece of cormorant verse.

The common cormorant or shag

Lays eggs in a paper bag.

The reason you will see, no doubt,

Is to keep the lightning out,

But what these observant birds

Have never noticed is herds

Of wandering bears may come with buns

And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.

 June 24 2012. Back to the Lake Erie shores today, to the same darkened forest preserve where we’ve been doing point counts.  I went with three goals: to be alone, to see if I could confirm a suspected Canada Warbler, and to study the many species of ferns that grow there.

Alone I move at my own pace and suffer or surrender to the mosquitoes as it suits me.  They were certainly active and unpleasant, especially when I crawled low for photographs  to capture the undersides of fern fronds.  I dislike insect repellants with the active ingredient DEET, but they work and I use them, though sparingly. Quite apart from DEET’s apparent toxicity I know that it will melt plastic; I’ve seen it happen, I spilled some in my car.

The putative Canada Warblerhas been singing from deep within a roadside tangle of cedar, grape and willow for a month or so.  On every visit I have tried without success to draw him out, today I was prepared to spend all morning at it if I had to.  Worse, the suspect was one of three or four more all singing the same song in the same general area, a tease that only heightened my desire to clinch it.  The Canada Warbler always starts his song with a single tiny ‘chip’ just ahead of a fast scramble of clear notes, I could hear a ‘chip’, a compelling clue, but not good enough for confirmation. A blow-by-blow description of my search would be tedious so it’s enough to report that he put up a good fight but in the end I found him, flitting low in the dark cedars. Here are two shots of a Canada Warbler, one to show what a handsome creature it is, the other exemplifies how elusive they can be.