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October 7 2018 Hendrie Valley, RBG, Burlington, ON.  I have made three attempts at starting this and each one just fell flat. I was trying to find my way in to telling how I’d seen a Gray-cheeked Thrush on my transect and that it was my Bird of the Day. Frankly I set it aside and it has sat for a while, but a Gray-cheeked Thrush is not to be cast aside so easily.  I suppose I could stop there but it would be incomplete without a setting, all the time and place stuff and better late than never.

This was the day after some dirty weather had stirred up birds in general and migrants in particular urging some to move on and others to take cover.

This valley is very sheltered and habitat is varied, there are woodland trails, ponds and a small river that empties downstream into a large natural (but now heavily industrialised) harbour. The valley is one small part of Ontario’s Royal Botanical Gardens where there’s a lot of growing going on. I bring the RBG into it because, through no fault of its own, some of its cultivated possessions scatter their seed indiscriminately and botanical oddities pop up where you least expect them. One or two of these escaped species, once valued specimens, have become a major nuisance, Tartarian Honeysuckle, for example, is a major component of some woodlands on RBG property profoundly altering their ecology by crowding out native species.

The valley is dominated by towering Red Ash (now being destroyed by Emerald Ash Borer; another ecological catastrophe), Sugar Maples, White Pines, Red Oaks, and with  Witch Hazel in the understory. But here and there are exotic escapes probably delivered via a bird’s digestive system, among them a Spindle Tree or Euonymous europaeus, a tall shrub or maybe short tree which bears pink fruit in fall.

Today I noticed two or three Hermit Thrushes devouring Spindle Tree fruit and with them one Gray-cheeked Thrush. Just seeing a thrush is often sufficient reward, they tend to be reclusive and evasive but have a kind of white-glove elegance. As I’ve noted before, all of our thrush species have a discrete, almost shifty, way of moving from your approach, making you wonder whether you only imagined movement. But these birds were marginally more interested in the fruit so persistence provided many opportunities to study them.

If you were to go back through my posts you’d see that I’ve written before about Hermit Thrushes (including just yesterday), Wood Thrush (photo May 12) and that Veerys and Swainson’s Thrushes have themselves been Bird of the Day on odd occasions. It’s time, I think for the Gray-cheeked Thrush.  Here’s a photo of one retreating shyly. Hardly a startling bird unless, like me, you really have a soft spot for thrushes in general.

October 26 2018, Valley Inn, RBG, Burlington, ON. I spent the morning with a companion, quite a big chunk of it, on a transect survey of this open estuary valley. It was a rewarding two hours notwithstanding that the majority of migrants seem to have left us to our own devices for the winter ahead. But there was enough to reward our efforts including this Winter Wren chattering concern at something invisible, or perhaps it was us.

A Hermit Thrush on the path ahead of us was working hard at rendering a spiky caterpillar edible perhaps by stripping off the bristly hairs or to somehow work it out of its spiky coat.  The lesson to take away is to never assume that something edible wants to be eaten.  Herons sometimes work at making a fish swallowable, flipping and wrestling it until the spiky structure of the dorsal fin slides happily down its long neck.  Most birds manage to take their food as it comes and to just gulp things down, there are benefits to being a seed-eater I suppose.

Our Bird of the Day came after our transect survey when we went down to see a group of Hudsonian Godwits feeding on the mudflats further down the valley. I’d never seen this species before and didn’t really appreciate what a privilege it was to spend time with them. They’re nice birds, tall waders with long up-turned bills that probe squishy mud for wriggly food.  Setting aside their rarity around here, it’s the story of their migration that makes them truly remarkable.

It is tempting to accept the idea they are way off course in their southbound migration; this may not be entirely true; some of the best authorities acknowledge that there is much to be learned about them and their distribution. They’re known to breed along shorelines in the high latitudes between Alaska and the shores of Hudson Bay and to spend our winter in the southern latitudes of Chile and Argentina. We know that godwit species (there are several) are capable of really long-haul, almost non-stop, migrations from their Arctic breeding grounds to deep in the southern hemisphere. In the case of Hudsonian Godwits well, maybe they have always passed high overhead without stopping. It’s possible too that something has changed, perhaps an historic food source has dwindled, or quite conceivably, there are more birders around with better equipment.  I quote from Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Birds of North America,  “Flight range estimates ranged from 4,900 to 6,700 km … indicating that at least some individuals can manage a nonstop flight to South America.”

Whatever the reason, this is the second year that this species has shown up here.  Last year there was just one, much celebrated, individual seen not far from today’s birds; perhaps it has found a stop-over worth sharing with its mate and brood.

October 6 2018 Grey Doe Trail Valley, RBG, Hamilton, ON. This was a day of high expectations. Characteristically erratic October weather, one day cool and blustery the next almost summery, had pushed a massive flight of south-bound migrants yesterday; one of our transect team watched two Golden Eagles soar low overhead, crazy!. But that was yesterday and although I hoped for another such day today, it was not to be. Perhaps that one big day swept out all the available birds or maybe last night’s heavy rain dissolved them like sugar cubes, I don’t know. I completed a transect today and found fewer species (nineteen) than I might hope for on a mid-winter day.

I can’t say I was thrilled to see two Dark-eyed Juncos because they unquestionably herald the approach of winter. But they were my Birds of the Day perhaps because they are something of a milestone along the way. The last lingering Juncos of last winter left in the final week of April, hardly anyone noticed them go, we were too busy celebrating the return warmer weather.

A pair of Brown Creepers held my attention for quite a while.  They were carefully working and reworking, from bottom to top, the trunks of a Sugar Maple and a Hop Hornbean. They are intriguing birds but very difficult birds to photograph. For one thing because they favour gloomy places, and cameras need light, but also because their plumage is so cryptic that they are virtually invisible against a tree trunk. If silhouetted as they move around the side of the trunk, many times the camera is baffled by the contrasts between the dark of the tree and the light of the sky behind . This is about the only decent photograph I’ve ever managed of a Brown Creeper, and it’s not bad despite my misgivings.

September 29 2018 Cootes Paradise, Hamilton, ON.  My friend Jackson runs a popular Saturday morning class for those who think birding might be a healthy, aesthetically satisfying, intellectually stimulating and challenging hobby. Because it is all of those things the course  fills up quickly. It may be all the catalyst someone needs to develop a lifelong interest.  I usually help him lead the course and share some of what I’ve learned over the years.

Today was the first of a series of six running into mid-November. After a bit of an introduction to each other and the subject in general, we headed down to the very birdy shore of a neighbourhood lake. One man said his ambition was to see an eagle; and we did, we watched a couple of young Bald Eagles soaring around, not close but well enough that everyone was able to enjoy them. Another student said she really wanted to see an owl, but the best we could do was show her the sort of cavity in a tree where you might find one – if you were lucky and don’t give up.

Our first stop was to watch a flock of Cedar Waxwings in the top branches of a long-dead tree. It was the perfect opportunity to help some get used to using and calibrating their binoculars and the waxwings stayed put long enough that we were able to discuss field marks. A couple of Gray Catbirds allowed us some good views, they mewed their feline signature just often enough that it was easy to understand how they got their name.

 

Perhaps most spectacularly cooperative was a Red-tailed Hawk that sat quietly, lit by the sun on the open tip of a large Blue Spruce. Red-tails are far from uncommon but it’s not often that you have such a cooperative bird and the luxury of time to engage in pointing out some of the plumage details. After many minutes of discussion, and a bit of distraction by other birds, we saw as it readied for flight, tilted forward, slowly spread its wings and launched into low circles over our heads, its tail had the nice ochre red of an adult to clinch the identification.

Although we tried to keep moving we kept seeing great stuff: an Osprey plunged to seize a fish and carried it, still wet and wriggling, directly overhead; There were Great Egrets, bright white against the dark opposite shore and a Cooper’s Hawk passing lazily overhead.

When the class came to an end Jackson asked for everyone’s thought best of the morning, opinions were varied until someone mentioned the Red-tailed Hawk and that got almost unanimous approval.  I was inclined towards the Cooper’s Hawk, but that Red-tail had us all enthralled, so Red-tailed Hawk it is as Bird of the Day.

September 28 2018 Grey Doe Trail, RBG, Hamilton, ON. For a while this was just an ordinary September day’s birding, blustery breezy and late summerish. But it stopped being ordinary as fourteen Turkeys exploded in front of us when someone’s off-leash dog snuffled them out of a field.  Until the dog scattered them they had been staying out of sight deep among goldenrods and asters. The dog’s owner seemed quite unconcerned, not in the least bit interested, almost as if that’s what dogs are supposed to do. Fourteen turkeys taking panicked flight, spraying out to all points of the compass is quite a spectacle and I wondered how long it would take them all to re-find each other; assuming they would. It was also a lesson in how much we miss because had the dog not flushed them we wouldn’t have even suspected their presence. But that was it for excitement for quite a while.

We made our way following a trail through a mature broadleaf woodland looking and listening hard for sight and sounds of birds. But other than non-stop Blue Jays, some far away Red-bellied Woodpeckers and a couple of Downy Woodpeckers it was quiet.  Fall, migration is in full swing and there should be lots to see; I guess we werein the wrong place at the wrong time. Those Blue Jays kept up a steady background of shrieking as, in their dozens, they kept streaming south-westward, bent on leaving Ontario for somewhere with better winter prospects.

But then it all perked up when my companion motioned me to slow down. A thrush! she said, looking intently at the ground a few yards ahead while trying to tell me exactly where it was. She gave me a field-marks description: Brown back – eye ring,– nicely spotted breast.  No wait, she said, Not a thrush, it’s an Ovenbird. Then I found it making its way slowly along a small branch at ground level. It paused and then flew a few yards and we followed its flight, staying on it. It moved again and still I followed hoping for a lucky photo (like these two below).

Ovenbirds are birds of the forest floor, heard much more often than seen, there is a ringing quality to the male’s territorial song as it belts out ‘Teacher-teacher-TEACHER-TEACHER’; at least that’s what it sounds like. Although it is actually a warbler, my companion’s initial reaction that she was looking at a thrush is understandable as the photo below (from another time) amply shows.