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Home. July 27 2021. I’ve been wrestling with some camera problems lately, I’ll spare you the details but that crumb of information is relevant to today’s birds of the day.

Late July is not good birding, it’s so quiet. The frenzy of spring migration is far behind us, most birds have either raised their broods to independence or are tending their second or third ones. I left home this morning, long before breakfast, to walk one of my favourite circuits, mostly for the exercise. It was a pleasant walk but, for birds, it was unexceptional – although I suppose an Eastern Screech Owl, a Black–crowned Night Heron (photo below) and a three sunlit Great Blue Herons like marble statues in the early light must count for something.

Back home, digesting breakfast in my colourful back yard, I thought it would be good practice to have binoculars and camera at hand; I was right. An out of sight but nevertheless close Carolina Wren starting belting out its I’m-in-charge territorial song. I don’t think Carolina Wren know any way of singing other than loud; while they can purr and mutter softly to themselves, their song is for broadcasting and is always delivered at full-volume. After a few minutes, it moved into my line of sight, perched on a wire, nicely lit, nicely positioned and with a clean background; perfect for a photo. I pointed and clicked off two pictures, the second one just as it flew; for my troubles I got one barely acceptable picture and one empty one. I could have done better, the camera and I were not quite the team I wish for, still, this is it.  Not a great photo.

A few minutes later, a Ruby–throated Hummingbird paid a visit to our small patch of scarlet Bee–balm or Monarda didyma. Hummingbirds favour red flowers and it’s a frequent, if usually fleeting, visitor.  I had a reasonable line of sight and the bird stayed fairly steady in its hovering but my camera and I, as a team, were non-existent . To be fair to the camera, it did what it was instructed, but my instructions were all wrong and I ended up with half a dozen pictures either way out of focus, over-exposed or hopelessly under-exposed. This photo below was taken six years ago at the same patch of Bee-balm.

I enjoyed both of these back-yard birds, they added something to this soft summer morning and were my joint Birds of the Day.

RBG. Hendrie Valley, Burlington ON. July 1 2021. If June is the most frantic of breeding-bird months, then July is the winding-down.  Now, at the tipping point, the young of the year are pretty well all out of the nest. (Those that have survived predation by squirrels, jays, crows, rats and snakes; or starvation due to a late burst of cold weather). I’ve learned that an effective approach to gathering evidence for the Breeding Bird Atlas is to go often, go slowly, and listen, linger, and watch. I concentrate on a few very productive places, each different in habitat and bird species.

Today I walked (at a pace that could hardly be called exercise) along a streamside trail. At first it was busier with people than with birds, probably because today is Canada Day, a day when Canadians too often ask themselves whether they are worthy, unlike Americans who, I think, believe the whole world celebrates the 4^th of July with them, or the English few of whom could tell you what, or when, is St. George’s Day. But never mind, it was a productive breeding-bird morning.

For some time, I was absorbed watching a pair of Yellow Warblers tending their hungry brood. Fledgling Yellow Warblers are pale below, washed out, versions of the female parent, their conspicuously beady eye makes them reminiscent of Nashville Warblers, to me anyway.

The Birds of the Day were a young Brown-headed Cowbird and a pair of attentive Eastern Kingbirds, they made for a very interesting hour.  It started when I heard a thin, wheezy, call coming from the lower branches of an American Sycamore. It sounded like a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher but when I located the source it turned out to be a drab and stubby juvenile Brown-headed Cowbird. I wouldn’t say that I knew right away what it was but when, moments later, an Eastern Kingbird landed beside it and stuffed a beak-load of insects down its throat, I knew. North Americans are generally familiar with cowbirds as nest parasites, but cowbirds aren’t musical, nor are they wrapped in anything like the colourful folklore of Eurasia’s Common Cuckoo. But in both cases, the females lay their eggs opportunistically in the nests of other species. It then falls to the hapless host to raise the young cuckoo or cowbird.

I spent the best part of an hour watching the comings and goings of the kingbirds.  The cowbird kept up its ‘Feed-me Feed-me” pleading but as soon as one of the food-delivering hosts drew near it stopped, crouched a little and quivered in supplication.

This parasite & host drama is a successful breeding strategy for the Brown-headed Cowbird, their population seems to be growing. What I find especially interesting about this particular cowbird/kingbird match-up is that Eastern Kingbirds are very aggressive protectors of their nest and immediate surrounds. The name Kingbird is apt, as is their family name of Tyrant Flycatchers. Territorial males forcefully challenge and drive off intruding birds of all species whether they mean harm or not; How did one slip by, and worse, leave behind an egg?

I took many photos in difficult conditions against the bright midday sky. I’m quite pleased with a few and you can almost sense some parental tenderness.

Bayview Park, Burlington ON. June 29 ^.2021. One of my Breeding Bird Atlas challenges is to complete a 5-minute point-count in an expanse of grassland.(Point-count: A tally of all birds seen and heard in a short period of time.) We don’t have much grassland here, not in the sense of wide-open and un-mown as might have existed before European settlement. What we do have is urban sprawl lapping up against a mix of deciduous woodlands and cash-crop farmland.

Luckily, many years ago, the city created a large park which now accommodates a leash-free dog park, a model airplane clubhouse with airstrip and little else except lots of deep un-mowed grass; certain grassland birds like it.

In the past two or three weeks I have spent many early morning hours here. It’s quieter then, certainly better before anxious dogs or model airplanes start to unsettle things and I like to think I have the birds to myself. Sitting alone and watching, I’ve got the measure of a Brown Thrasher’s territory and located the nests of Orchard Orioles, Baltimore Orioles, Barn Swallows and Killdeers.

I have also observed and counted a few strictly grassland birds.  Savannah Sparrows are everywhere and readily pop up out of the grass to show their anxiety. I confirmed them as a breeding species after watching one carry a beak-full of insects to its nestlings.

Bobolinks and Eastern Meadowlarks, unlike the sparrows, are much more secretive.  I hear them frequently but they take flight quickly and disappear into the grass long before anyone gets close. I’m certain they have partners and nests in there somewhere.

Something was different today, perhaps I was less conspicuous sitting in the shade; whatever the reason, an Eastern Meadowlark was my lucky-find Bird of the Day. It landed not twenty metres from me and spent a few minutes walking stiffly on the short-mown grass of the model airplane landing zone, picking for food and stopping every few paces to sing its melodic ‘spring-of-the-year’ song, a way of asserting his territorial rights. I was able to busy my camera and managed a few shots.

The deep yellow of its throat and breast and the dagger beak make a striking looking bird.

I view these meadowlarks and Bobolinks as incomplete stories: I wait and hope to see confirmation of breeding.  It won’t be by finding their nests, it would be destructive and unethical to try, but one of these days I’ll glimpse them carrying food to their young or perhaps see those youngsters developing their first flight skills.

Millbrook. ON. June 22^nd.2021. For the first time in a while, two of us got together for some birding purely for the entertainment value. We headed to a tract of dry scrubby habitat, quite unlike anything close to home and known to us for a good variety of birds.

Half way there, and Barry was starting to explain his latest bird-advocacy project, him against the weight of local government, when I broke into his train of thought to insist we investigate a certain roadside wetland just coming into view. It was a very rich spot, well worth the stop.

Surrounded by marshy vegetation we could make out small, shallow lakes sparkling beyond our clear line of sight. It set us wondering what uncommon wetland birds would be in there, and who you’d need to know to go and see. A Belted Kingfisher rattled past and we could hear Warbling Vireos and Red–eyed Vireos in the willows around, although to keep it in perspective, I should note that bird song was often lost to early morning truck traffic. As we were trying to be sure of a small flotilla of Wood Ducks, with a jolt I realised that a Yellow–throated Vireo was singing close overhead. A wow moment.

It’s not that a Yellow-throated Vireo has a particularly melodious song, probably more monotonous than melodious, but it is an uncommon bird distinctive for sounding like a hoarse-throated version of its Red-eyed Vireo cousin. None of which may sound all that important or engaging to a far-away reader, but some will recall that I have a soft spot for vireos of all stripes. Yellow-throated Vireo is a colourful, once-in-a-blue-moon bird anyway and rather lovable in a thuggish way. At that moment I knew it would be My Bird of the Day!

We moved on, Barry finished his story and we spent a couple of rewarding hours of entertainment-value birding. I would not do justice to a good morning’s birding if I left out that we saw several Clay–coloured Sparrows (which I think may have been a close-to lifer for me), Field Sparrows,Grasshopper Sparrows, and a Blue–winged Warbler; any of which could hold its own as a Bird of the Day were it not for the vireo.

Grindstone Creek, Burlington ON. June 13^{th .}2021. I have been paying close attention to the possible nest site of a pair of Belted Kingfishers. It started back in March when I noted kingfishers hanging around what at first seemed the unlikeliest of places, the wooded edge of a deep valley. After a while I realised that the site had merit, there was an exposed earthen face where a small landslip had occurred.  Just the sort of place for kingfishers to excavate a long nest burrow.

But that was March, nest use was several weeks away and it was very probable they were scouting out a host of possible sites. Still, I was intrigued.

From time to time in the weeks that followed I passed by the site, and to my surprise and growing interest, the kingfishers were never far away. They are shy birds and secretive about private matters and I’m sure they saw me long before I saw them, so it was hard to be really sure of their intentions for this site; but my hopes grew.  Today I sat uncomfortably for a long while in the deep cover of fresh green hoping to catch a glimpse of the birds. I hoped to clinch my now near certainty that they had indeed excavated a nest hole somewhere in the bank. I kept my camera poised just in case and, to cut a long story short, I can confirm with this lucky shot that they do indeed have an active nest, just as I had hoped and fantasised.

Quite apart from my satisfaction at having put the pieces of the puzzle together successfully, I have a sound confirmation of breeding for the Breeding Bird Atlas and of course Belted Kingfishers were my Birds of the Day.