Category: Uncategorized

June 16 2019. West Flamborough, ON. I woke early this morning, a little too early to jump out of bed, but as I lay contemplating the day that lay ahead, it occurred to me that a pre-breakfast birding excursion had some merit. If I put my mind to it I could visit to a certain bird-rich marsh where I might just see or hear a couple of relative rarities before traffic made it difficult. Some contemplation later, now determined it was worthwhile, I sprung out of bed.

Forty minutes later, I pulled into a little grassy lay-by and was quickly greeted by mosquitoes, I waved them away and within moments heard the tiny ‘keek’ of a Sora and, at the same time, saw a young one, a tiny, black fluffball, scamper from the roadside to the safety of a stand of a reeds. I suggest it was a Sora but it could have been a young Virginia Rail; at that age they’re virtually identical.  The ‘keek’ call of what I assume was a parent more strongly suggests Sora.

I saw little else as I walked the road across the marsh. I could hear Marsh Wrens, a rather far-off Least Bittern and the banshee song of a Pied-billed Grebe.  Any and all of which made the early rising worthwhile. I heard a wet song, the gurgling of something I couldn’t pin down, ‘bugled cluckings’ Pete Dunne calls them, coming from a sparsely vegetated inlet. I backtracked and a duck-sized bird flew up and across the road and, based on a half-second glimpse, I decided it was a probably a Hooded Merganser. I’ve heard female mergansers utter a funny muffled bark when startled and I rationalised that was close to what I’d heard and seen; plausible anyway.  Musing self-congratulation for an identification on the run, I peered back to where the supposed merganser had come from and where I could still hear a soft rhythmic clucking, I saw slight movement, not a merganser but something black with red, perhaps a male Red-winged Blackbird, also highly plausible.

And there, well the headline gives it away, peering back at me was a Common Gallinule. A blackish, duck-like bird with a red frontal shield. Here it is, Bird of the Day for any number of reasons.

Common Gallinules were for years believed to be the same species as the Common Moorhen of Europe (and my childhood.) But close analysis has shown them to be a distinct species. Various texts and on-line sources seem to imply that Common Gallinules breed in Southern Ontario and, well, they do but are very scarce in my view. I almost never see them, my last encounter was two years ago.

June 8 2019. Puslinch, ON. Post-May birding, although different, can be very rewarding. Behind them (and us) is the competitiveness of April and May’s migratory rush: the competition is to get to the breeding grounds, to take and hold territory, and to find a mate. From the birders point of view the birds have stopped coming to us, if we want to see them we have to seek them out; now it’s more like work.

Three of us explored an area of thick cedar forest, open bushy fields, wetlands and an abandoned quarry.  I’d been there a few times before and had an idea what to expect, for my companions it was all eye-opening.

We did well to encounter 36 species three of which stood out in particular: three Black and White Warblers (two heard and one seen up close), a bonded pair of Black–billed Cuckoos, and, Birds of the Day, two Blue–winged Warblers.  The two Blue-wings were on sentry duty, each on his own territory, and they monitored our presence closely. Like so many warbler species they are quite breathtaking to see and I like the way the black eye stripe seems to mirror the bird’s bill.

We wrapped up our morning by following the course of a clear trout stream through a dark cedar forest until we reached the road where I’d parked. There were few birds along this stretch but we could hear the song of a Black–throated Green Warbler.

June 5 2019. Westover, ON. In a late-May post I mentioned that where utility rights of way cut through woodlands they are attractive to birds and birders alike. The big electricity utilities are required to keep the ground below the march of steel-towers clear of undergrowth. So, every few years, teams cut and clear all the underbrush. The resultant clearing and then slow regeneration makes for interesting birding.

This morning I tried exploring a small corner of mixed woodland bisected and trisected by a gas pipeline easement and a hydro-electric transmission corridor. It’s a place worthy of much more time another day but I got stopped by the approach of a thunderstorm.

I spent time trying to coax Prairie, Blue-winged and Golden-winged Warblers from where evidently they don’t exist in the defining edge of scrubby pines and hawthorns, . Field Sparrows and Grasshopper Sparrows watched me carefully and unseen Ovenbirds and Eastern Towhees sang from within the woods. It was all very soothing (if a touch fruitless) until a surprisingly loud crash of thunder made me re-evaluate my morning.

I thought the core of the storm might pass me by but later it started to rain softly and I thought it wiser to make my way back to my car. I chose what seemed to be a more straightforward route avoiding open areas and staying as close to the forest edge as possible. When the rain became a little more forceful I stood under the dense canopy of an old Sugar Maple reasoning that it might soon be over and, if any tree around was going to be struck by lightning, it wouldn’t be this old and not-very-tall maple.

From my sheltered but slightly damp spot I watched a pair of Eastern Kingbirds dancing around a tumbledown group of hawthorns and dogwoods. At one time the kingbirds and two bright yellow male American Goldfinches settled close enough together to make a wonderful picture should anyone with a camera have been close enough (which no-one was).

A quick movement not far in front of me turned out to be a Ruby–throated Hummingbird. As I watched, it visited several Red Columbine flowers, swinging from flower to flower in the light drifting rain. Bird of the Day for its atmospheric spontaneity and another nice picture, captured only in my memory.

To tie up what might otherwise be a loose end, it became apparent that the rain wasn’t likely to stop. I checked the weather map on my iPhone and saw, to the west of me, one of those malevolent green and orange clumps that mean heavy rain is on its way. I made my way back to my car definitely damp but not cold. An hour or so later the skies opened.

June 1 2019. Royal Botanical Gardens, Hamilton, ON. Lest it sounds as though my birding days are an endless string of big block-buster events, I should correct the record. I have plenty of ordinary, non-birding days, I have to work from time to time, eat, hunt and gather, get the car serviced, all that stuff. And I do experience plenty of average birding days; today might have been one, somewhere between average to good for late spring.

Two of us completed one of our routine transect walks: two and a half hours and 52 species, most of them to be expected. If I look at my field notes, the remarkable ones include many Red–eyed Vireos in a state of fluttering and tail-fanning excitement – pairing up and squabbling over tree-top territories I suppose; a first of the year Blackpoll Warbler; and a hard to find but got it in the end, singing Chestnut–sided Warbler.

Bird of the Day was a male Indigo Bunting. I don’t know whether he  already had a mate or whether he was hoping to attract one, but he was singing loud and clear and not in the slightest bit concerned by our approach. Eventually he moved a tree or two further away and we thought we’d lost him. Then we spotted a female; his magic had worked, she was besotted I’m sure, certainly compliant to his overtures. They were last seen flying off to a quieter woodland edge. I had lots of time to take photos of him but, as is so often the way, I’d press the shutter at the precise moment he moved or he was inconveniently (for me) partly obscured by a leaf cluster. Still there were a couple of good ones worth sharing. Here he is; who wouldn’t be besotted

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May 29 2019.  Campbellville, Ontario. There’s a tract of woodland half an hour from home and worth a visit or two each spring. Paradoxically its attraction is the hydro-electric transmission corridor that cuts through it. It’s not the big steel towers or the million-volt static hum that make it so special.  Instead, the abrupt woodland margins attract Indigo Buntings, Eastern Towhees, Chestnut-sided Warblers and cuckoos, and the shrubby secondary growth beneath the lines is ideal for Eastern Kingbirds, Song and Field Sparrows, Yellow, Mourning, and Blue-winged Warblers.

I spent many enjoyable hours there last June but came away baffled by a mystery bird that moved unseen from point to point and sang tantalisingly invisible. I made an adequate recording of its song and eventually concluded that it was a Mourning Warbler. Today I returned with a companion hoping it had returned, armed as I was with a better idea of expected behaviour. With a bit of luck, I also hoped to see a Blue-winged Warbler.

Well, we saw both, in fact we saw everything noted in the first paragraph above. My companion is fairly new to the birding challenge and, for her, the visit delivered three lifers. I think she nearly choked (well, she gasped anyway) at the sight of the Mourning Warbler, it is such a study in elegance and drama. The Blue-winged Warbler was harder to follow, they are gaudier than the Mourning Warbler but can stop you in your tracks. Above and below is a photo of each taken a couple of years ago.

The real surprise and delight to me was seeing a Black-billed Cuckoo at close quarters. Close enough to be my Bird of the Day. We first spotted it tree-top and far away, it was elusive at first. But, perhaps it was feeling sorry for us, it flew to a maple nearby and then by progressive hops made its way down to our eye level and about twenty feet in front of us.  And there it sat quietly, like this.