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Burlington. ON. February 21 2024. Last April I reported on the appearance of a pair of Merlins who had taken a sudden interest in an active nest of American Crow’s. That interest turned out to be an expression of intent because before long the Merlins had evicted the crows and in due course produce one youngster. It was all happening right in front of our house and in the same Norway Spruce in which we had, or perhaps still have, a resident roosting Eastern Screech Owl.  (With reference to the post of ten days ago, that owl returned to the same spot on the branch for four or five days. It may well be there still, close even if unseen by mortals.)

Well today the Merlins came back. I was tending to minor garden chores when I heard the familiar chittering, a glance up and immediately found it at the tip of the spruce. I made a dash indoors for my camera and was able to get a few decent shots. A few minutes later its mate made a sweeping fly-past and the two of them took off together.

This reappearance raises several questions: are these the same birds, one or both, as last year?  Or could today’s bird be last year’s youngster? If it’s a pair and if they stay to breed, will they re-use the same nest? Probably not. Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s authoritative Birds of the World says, “Rarely use the same nest in 2 consecutive years.” Rarely but not never; time will tell.

The day was one of those rare spring-like February days, good for garden chores although doubtless there will be plenty more winter days ahead. There was other bird song around, principally a House Finch and the long whistled notes of a Northern Cardinal, but an appearance of Merlins was very special and they were My Birds of the Day.

Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. February 19, 2024.  So, it’s mid-February-looking-for-signs-of-spring time and we’re ice-bound.  Exercise is important so I headed out early and walked the valley this morning.   Today is an obscure public holiday in Ontario and by the mid morning, the parking lot was filling with expanding family groups.

Bird-wise it was probably predictable; if it was just a matter of compiling a list of valley birds I could have stayed home. (Eastern Screech Owl, Black-capped Chickadee, American Tree Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, Song Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Mallard, Hooded Merganser, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Downy Woodpecker and Red-breasted Merganser. That’s it.)

But then there’s that matter of signs-of-spring, they were few and far between. I count as valid the rather weak songs of a couple of  Song Sparrows and, at a stretch, some communicative, perhaps competitive, drumming by a couple of Downy Woodpeckers.  Enough to lift your spirits for a minute or two. Here’s one of those sparrows searching for something, anything, to eat along the water’s icy edge.

I was little surprised to see a female Red-breasted Merganser (above) hastening upstream in the ice-fringed creek.  There is open water in the creek so she has a chance of a fish meal.  My Bird of the Day was this male Northern Cardinal who seemed to glow in the winter light.

But that’s just about the best I can do for mid-February.

Burlington, Ontario. February 10 2024.  The shriek of Blue Jays, the neighbourhood’s watchmen and busy-bodies, called me away from my wordle-and-granola breakfast. They were insulting, as only Blue Jays can, something just outside my front door.  My birder-self wondered if they’d found an owl to harass, so went to see.  They were busy and objecting loudly in the lower branches of an old Norway Spruce and had got the attention of a couple of Black-capped Chickadees, stirred like me from their daily routines, to see what the fuss was all about. Sitting patiently trying to ignore them was an Eastern Screech Owl hoping to get a decent morning’s sleep.

I’m sure the owl had settled in there at daybreak intending to spend the daylight hours resting and it had selected a spot somewhat out of sight, preferably where jays and crows wouldn’t see it.  As I write this, five hours later, it is still there despite the arrival and very close activity of construction workers. The jays have left leaving the owl to some kind of peace, perhaps they’ve lost interest or maybe the construction is too much for them.

This old Norway Spruce is tall and patchily dense. It is the same tree that hosted the nest of a pair of Merlins and their young last summer.  I have a faint memory from some decades ago of finding evidence at its base of it sheltering a Great-horned Owl .  Not bad for what may have been someone’s old Christmas tree decades ago.

I was able to get a few decent photos of this lovely Eastern Screech Owl . It was an easy, no contest, Bird of the Day, here it is.

Princess Point, Hamilton. ON. February 4, 2024.  A bright crisp Sunday morning gets the winter weary out and I was no exception. I decided to walk a stretch of harbour-side trail as much for the exercise as the chance of an interesting bird. It was barely a degree above freezing and where there was shade there was the risk of an icy slip and fall. I stayed upright the whole time.

It’s an interesting stretch of urban waterfront known to produce surprise birds now and then. I always hold out hope of a remarkable discovery, but not today although several Hooded Mergansers and a couple of male Gadwalls held my sustained attention.

The male Hooded Mergansers (above with a female) have an almost soldierly look as if dressed for a parade,  in contrast to the more funereal plumage of the Gadwall.  Here’s a photo showing the Gadwall’s coal-black butt, pale gold highlights across the back and fine wiggly lines detailing his breast and flanks.

Other than those two nice ducks, it would not have been a particularly noteworthy bird walk had it not been for the fleeting appearance of this Northern Mockingbird.  It buried itself deep in a thicket and disappeared into the denseness, I was afraid that my first glimpse was all I was going to get, but then it popped up, paused, and posed for a while, long enough to allow me a couple of photos. This is one.

Southern Ontario is at the northern limit of the Mockingbirds’ extensive range throughout the lower 48 United States. For us it is uncommon except in a few spots where they seem to have a toe-hold; this urban waterfront trail is one of those places. Members of this small outlier colony are not totally unexpected and are more often heard than seen; today I got the visual.  It was My Bird of the Day icing on the cake this morning.

Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. January 29, 2024.  I think a hint of spring is the best and most precious commodity possible in January; it doesn’t have to be much. This mid-winter has been gloomy and wet, unseasonable; not steely bright-white and cold as Ontario Januarys have always been, or should be. Today delivered sunshine and a puff of warmer air, and as I left the house I could hear bird song – of a sort.

I had a chunk of time in hand before a meeting, so decided to walk a circuit around the valley.  Bird-wise there was nothing unusual, nor should there be. It was a classic list of species-that-stay, including Carolina Wren, Black-capped Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches, Dark-eyed Juncos, Mallards and Blue Jays.

More Blue Jays than I would have expected, and they set me wondering:  were they all just winter locals of the wider area who happened to be in the valley today; perhaps just a band of wanderers; could they be early spring returnees; or are they a sign of climate changes and didn’t feel the need to go further south?

Notwithstanding the un-remarkableness of today’s birds, I think My Bird of the Day was an American Tree Sparrow, just one, and just a glimpse. Ten years ago, they were common winter visitors from much further north. It’s a pretty little sparrow, to look at they’re much like summer’s Chipping Sparrow and the coming and going, switching places by the two species seems almost coordinated, like a shift change.

Goodness knows we are aware of changes in the presence and absence of species over time. Carolina Wren and Turkey Vulture are both common now, though uncommon 40 years ago.  Red-shouldered Hawk was once a frequent spring migrant passing-through, but no longer.  And we’ve watched the virtual disappearance of Red-headed Woodpecker while Red-bellied Woodpeckers moved in in droves, almost as if to replace them. I’m sure populations and distributions have always ebbed and flowed, and this is not intended as a treatise on bird population changes wrought by climate change; a topic far too big.

Here’s a photo of my best bird, an  American Tree Sparrow from 2016.