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Snake Rd, Burlington ON. March 20^th.^.2021. I went to one of my favourite woodlands this morning, looking for signs of spring. It’s a quixotic exercise in mid-March but I want to make sure I don’t miss anything and the reality is that animals, rather than plants are the first to declare the season, green shoots will follow in a week or two. Perhaps the nicest sighting was a fast-moving butterfly, a Mourning Cloak. I know almost nothing about them except that they are always the first butterfly to appear, and typically in open deciduous woodland where there may still be snow on the ground, just as I saw mine today. They are very attractive: quite a large butterfly, mostly chocolate brown with a line of purple/blue dots along a creamy white band along the trailing edges of their wings. It is a noteworthy ‘winter’s gone’ sighting and it really made the grade as a sign of spring, but one butterfly does not make a spring and that’s where the Hairy Woodpecker comes in.

It was warm and calm enough to enjoy sitting quietly, watching and waiting, one of the most productive way to sample nature. I found a treefall at a comfortable height and sat, and listened. A regular tapping overhead became an insistent drumming. I looked up expecting a woodpecker, either a Downy or Hairy but could see neither, but I could clearly see the cast shadow of one,  intriguing but not helpful as to species. Then a Hairy Woodpecker moved into sight higher overhead while the cast shadow stayed where it was. So there, two Hairy Woodpeckers, (both, I assume) one drumming up courtship the other happily entertained. My Birds of the Day.

On a very sad note, our local Suburban Turkey was killed today. Anecdotally, I understand that it was pacing around in the forecourt of the Esso gas station when it tangled with a vehicle. There was much indignant reporting of the incident. Police got involved and were satisfied that it was an accident. Just sad.

Lakeshore, Burlington, ON. March 18^th. 2021.  Fish Crow! So, which is it: fish or crow? Well it is a crow, but after that it becomes tricky so, bear with me.  Across most of eastern North America the common, default crow is the American Crow, its range is essentially everywhere south of the Arctic Circle and coast to coast; it has several lookalikes including this one, the Fish Crow. It is almost identical, though with a somewhat slighter build, a different voice, and its much smaller range is a narrow band along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts from Rhode Island to Texas. However…

Just a handful of years ago Fish Crows started showing up here on the shores of Lake Ontario, first one, then another, and another, a totally unexpected surprise.  They stayed and in time their numbers have increased.  They are very much a novelty restricted to a few small corners in a couple of leafy lake-side neighbourhoods.

This year is the first of five years of field work to gather and compile evidence of breeding for Ontario’s third Breeding Bird Atlas. Our task is to find signs of breeding activity of any and all species. So today, even though it’s still a bit early in the year, I went looking for Fish Crows.  I wanted to see if their activity would look like courtship or perhaps point to possible nest sites, work easier done before the trees leaf out. I found the crows in their leafy neighbourhood, as anticipated, but many more than expected. At times there were seven or eight flying, tumbling, chattering and chasing each other around, like children in a school playground. Fish Crow is a notably sociable species and, because it’s still a little early, such play doesn’t necessarily mean that breeding will follow. It’s also possible that all the birds within this group were related, parents and a couple of years’ offspring.

Now that said, some of them, sometimes two, sometimes four, gathered around what looked like a tattered old nest at the top of this towering Norway Spruce. It might turn out to be a renovation project for this year’s brood or it maybe it’s just somewhere that makes them think. It’ll all become clear in a month or two.

Long Point, Norfolk Co. ON. March 12^th. 2021. Last summer I was asked to be the guest expert in a sort of, well let’s call it, phone-in programme. I hesitated to call it that it lest you get the idea that it had a wide audience, which it didn’t. But it was moderated and the unseen and anonymous audience phoned in with questions. I was billed as the Birdman – hardly surprising.

One of the callers, Colleen, asked, “What can I do to scare away the Grackles? I hate them. They’re in and out of my cedar hedge all the time and they’re so aggressive, ugly bullies.  I don’t want them, they scare off all the nice birds. How can I get rid of them?”  It was a sincere plea, and I was no help at all. Actually, I laughed; perhaps not what our hosts had expected of me.

My response was something like this. “You can’t. They probably have nests in the hedge, so, they’re with you until they’ve finished breeding.  They’ll probably leave when they’ve had enough of your place, maybe mid-August if you’re lucky. In September they congregate in big flocks, getting ready to head south. But until then…. I can’t think of anything you can do – except stand outside all day and wave your arms. Well, or you could move. No, I’m afraid, it’s Grackles one – Colleen zero.”

Despondent Colleen was a good sport; at least she was back for subsequent phone-ins.

I thought of her yesterday as I watched this animated group of Common Grackles who had just arrived having flown across Lake Erie from points further south. They were picking away around the wet margins of a meltwater pond searching to refuel.  I think they’re rather handsome, I like the way they show a bronze and/or purple iridescent sheen when the light is right. That long tail adds a demonstrative flair to an already strutting deportment.

I understand why some, like Colleen, dislike them. They are assertive, increasing in numbers, a significant agricultural pest, and predatory (they eat other birds’ eggs and nestlings). They’re also black and we seem to dislike black birds: Crows, Ravens, Starlings, Jackdaws, Rooks and more.

Still, these Common Grackles were my Birds of the Day for all of those endearing points above and, it must be said, I also like their scientific name Quiscalus quiscula. Say it aloud a couple of times.

There were other great birds here today. Among them, some irrepressibly handsome Northern Pintails

LaSalle Marina, Burlington, ON. March 10^th. 2021.  The retreat of the harbour ice is interesting to watch. It happens quite quickly; two weeks ago it was a thick, unmoving, white sheet; maybe safe to walk on. Although, who would?  In the past 3 or 4 days as the air temperature has eased, bands of open blue water have started to appear in streaks edged with rows of rotten ice. 

Waterfowl know all about this open water, it is a staging area for birds on the move northwards for the spring and summer ahead. I’ve been watching marked increases in numbers of Red-breasted, Hooded and Common Mergansers, Canvasbacks, Redheads, Greater and Lesser Scaups, Ruddy Ducks and Goldeneyes.

This is also time for the reappearance of Tundra Swans, back from their winter on the Atlantic coast.  I don’t think there is any other event in the avian year quite like the Tundra Swans’ stylish return in March and I would hate to miss what can sometimes be a brief fly-by. Most pass overhead on their way to the shores and inlets of Lake Erie where they’ll rest for a few days or weeks. Then, when conditions are right, they will continue on towards the Hudson Bay lowlands to nest.  Some, not many, will rest here on Lake Ontario briefly. I went out hoping to see some today.

From a rough breakwater I scanned the harbour and spotted a group of swans floating together about 200M away. Tundras, I thought and peered harder. I should take a moment here to say that there is room for confusion, the harbour is home to two other swan species: Mute Swans (an introduction from Eurasia) and Trumpeter Swans a native species that overwinters here. But the group in my sights was acting a little differently from the locals and I quickly concluded that yes, these were indeed Tundra Swans, fifteen of them.

As I watched, they paddled slowly to a nearby ice pan and eased themselves up onto it.  I think they had only just landed, probably after an overnight flight of some five or six hundred kilometres. They were tired, I could see that and it wasn’t long before they settled down, heads tucked underwing, to whatever kind of sleep swans get.

As I was contemplating, with satisfaction, that I’d got my swan fix for this spring, a soft-calling V of another 20 Tundra Swans passed fairly low overhead. They seemed to hesitate as if thinking of joining those resting on the ice below and banked left flashing bright white sunlit backs. But then thought better of it and kept on going westward, gradually swallowed up in the bright sky.

Setting aside Tundra Swans who were My Birds of the Day without question, and just to round this out, below are a few photos of those ‘other’ swans photographed today. Swans on Ice.

RBG. Hendrie Valley, Burlington ON. March 8^th.2021. On this date last year, I walked a circuit of familiar trails and came up rather empty handed. I decided to walk it again today partly for the exercise and partly to compare experiences. Well, no surprise, many of my observations of last year were replicated today. I saw probably the same Eastern Screech Owl in precisely the same place, and there were plenty of Northern Cardinals, Dark-eyed Juncos and Black-capped Chickadees as expected. Some improvements on last year were Song Sparrows and American Tree Sparrows singing, maybe not lustily but singing and that counts for a lot.

 I’m sure there were many more newly arrived, male Red-winged Blackbirds this time and they were more optimistically vocal than last year. I did quite well with raptors starting with the Eastern Screech Owl noted above, then a fast flying and determined Cooper’s Hawk, a high overhead Sharp-shinned Hawk, two Turkey Vultures, two Bald Eagles and, My Bird of the Day, a sudden drop-in Red-tailed Hawk.

The red-tail came right at the end when I was standing talking to another birder, our conversation had drifted back in time and he was describing aspects of WW2 naval battles. Dramatic movement behind him caught my eye.  I yelled and pointed to this Red-tailed Hawk which had suddenly swooped in low to land on a fallen log just two metres off the path. It gathered its thoughts, hopped down, looked hopefully at the snow around it, hopped back up and left. I can only think it had a squirrel in its sights (unseen by us), swept in for the grab, and missed.

The faint barring on its tail indicates it is an immature bird, hatched last year and not yet a year old; perhaps that’s why it missed the squirrel.