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Burlington. ON. July 10, 2023. Three months ago, I covered the story of a pair of Merlins who had appropriated a crow’s nest in our front yard, apparently with the intention of setting up home.

Well, they did everything you might expect of nesting birds (Except build the nest. Thanks crows). They secured the neighbourhood with lots of chittering fly-pasts, stood atop nearby trees, copulated frequently, visited the nest and in due course fledged young. The nest was too high and too well hidden for anyone to be sure of what was going on inside, but they’ve been active neighbourhood residents and it was nobody’s business anyway.  Two days ago, I was just able to discern a wing-flapping fledgling at the edge of the nest. Just one I think; so much for all that copulation.

Today was flight day and we met this youngster at very close quarters.  Cornell Lab’s excellent reference Birds of the World notes that Merlins fledge (leave the nest) at about 29 days after hatching and remain dependent upon adults, they remain near their nest sites for 1 to 4 weeks.  Both adults feed the young during this period, males more than females and significantly their first flights are clumsy and sometimes fledglings land on ground or water. Well ‘ours’ certainly fits that description. It was seen by a neighbour wading through a puddle of rainwater and having some difficulty making its way up to somewhere higher, safer and where it would be less likely to fall victim to a roaming cat (Domestic cats are reckoned to kill 1.3–4 billion birds every year (Cornell Labs)).

The parent Merlins are not far away, we can see them and hear them chittering instructions. American Robins are incensed by its presence and burn up a lot of energy clucking and making low passes.

The parent birds have three months invested in this still slightly fluffy youngster, and we have our fingers crossed; there’s little else we can do. My Bird of the Day of course.

Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. July 4 2023.   This summer pause is like the moment atop a roller coaster, that almost weightless moment before the next swoop onward. April, May and June brought us three months of new and explosive growth among animals and plants, now we catch our breath and fatten up for what lies ahead.

This weightless pause is about things like Michigan Lilies in bloom (above) and young Wood Ducks and Blue Jays, out of the nest and trying to keep pace with their parents.

I walked the valley early, wondering what yesterday’s prolonged heavy rains had done. The air hung heavy and still but it was a perfect temperature and apparently not suitable for mosquitoes.  Clearly the creek had overflowed its banks flattening tall grasses as it found (or re-found) new sluiceways.

There was noticeably less birdsong than two or three weeks ago but I could hear Great-crested Flycatchers, Swamp Sparrows, American Robins, Song Sparrows and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks all around.  Hearing the plaintiff wheeze of a hungry young Red-tailed Hawk was all I needed to confirm that a pair had nested nest again in much the same place as last year.

Baltimore Orioles have ceased their May-June racket, but they’re still around, just going about their day with less fuss. A clamour from high in some American Sycamores turned out to be Warbling Vireos chasing off a couple of Blue Jays who probably looked upon young vireos as food items.

Green Herons can be either hard to spot or disarmingly obvious.  Maybe as the season wears on they care less about being inconspicuous. I watched one stretching in the sun. A long way off but the beautiful chestnut of its neck was back-lit and glowed.

The Eastern Screech Owl was back in its familiar hole-in-a-Hickory. It was looking out over a pond where a mother Wood Duck was shepherding her brood of five young, they never stopped moving, nibbling and sifting for food. They were my Birds of the Day just for epitomizing the quiet calm of this summer morning.

Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. June 16 2023.   I think June birding is the best: while it lacks the sensationalism of May it is richer for close observation of bird behaviour, the what, how and why. The why is everything about reproduction: courtship, nest site, egg production, incubation and fledging young.

I walked the valley early today, it had rained overnight leaving wide puddles, wet overhanging grasses and non-stop dripping. There was bird song everywhere, all of it familiar, nothing new but all heart-warming. Familiar or not, it represented a riot of song and colour: Indigo Bunting, Baltimore Oriole, Swamp Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Eastern Wood Peewee, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Yellow Warbler and many more. Males making sure the world knew that this is his territory, and busy parents foraging food for nestlings. Song Sparrows finding fat caterpillars and other little wriggly things, Eastern Kingbirds and Willow Flycatchers leaping out to snap up passing wasps and Green Herons stalking minnows.

It was not all pleasantness. I passed several waters-edge turtles’ nests that had been raided by Racoons leaving a scatter of torn eggshells, once round like ping-pong balls, now muddied and empty. I stopped when I spotted an American Mink crossing the path ahead of me. It was dripping as if it had swum the creek to get to where it sensed food. It paused alert, looked carefully and then lunged into the deep greenery. I suspect it was after the eggs and young in the nest of a Yellow Warblers who, along with several Red-winged Blackbirds, were screaming ‘Thug! and Murderer! likely to no effect for Mink are accomplished predators. A Yellow Warbler brood would be easy pickings.

Small movements in a woody tangle caught my eye and I was pleased and mildly surprised to find a newly fledged Brown-headed Cowbird being fed attentively by its foster parent Song Sparrows. Cowbirds are nest parasites, the American equivalent of Eurasian Cuckoos. Adult cowbirds do a lot of socialising and courtship in spring, but save themselves a lot of trouble by laying their eggs in other birds’ nests. The hapless hosts nurture the young cowbird at the expense of their own who are heaved out of the nest to die.

Brown-headed Cowbirds have few friends, birders off-handedly dismiss them as unwelcome, but why? They follow the same leeching lifestyle of Eurasian Cuckoos who, while not quite revered, have a place in folklore and are admired for their looks and eponymous song. If cowbirds were dressed like Baltimore Orioles, for example, how deep would be our grudge against them? I suspect not very, that we’d probably think, “Glorious bird! Too bad about its put-upon parents.”  But cowbirds are brown and black and we already know that to be an obstacle to easy social acceptance.

The young Brown-headed Cowbird and its foster parent Song Sparrows were my Birds of the Day. Socially acceptable or not I enjoyed watching the young cowbird idly checking out the big wide world while being attended by two busy and much smaller Song Sparrow.

Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. June 9 2023.   I had no idea that rain was in the forecast when I set out early this morning. It was cool, still and pleasant, although warm enough for blood-hungry mosquitoes. I was on a mission looking for evidence of breeding among the many bird species that thrive in the valley. Specifically, I wanted to upgrade levels of evidence of Mourning Warbler and Great-crested Flycatcher both of which are present here.  This work, if you can call it that, is part of my continuing contribution to the Ontario Breeding Bird Atlas (OBBA). For some background and to put this and future posts in context follow this link to a post from March 2021.

Even if sight of them was lost in the exuberant greenness of late spring, I was quite happy to be surrounded by the songs of many familiar birds: Red-eyed Vireos, Baltimore Orioles, Eastern Wood Peewees, Yellow Warblers and Swamp Sparrows.

Passing a newly built Beaver dam, I could hear the brief chattering song of a Mourning Warbler but it too was invisible lost in a thick tangle somewhere. I first heard what I assume is the same bird at this location on May 27^th so its presence today, two weeks later, counts as ‘Probable’ on the OBBA scale. I’d still like to see it because Mourning Warblers are very attractive creatures.

I kept walking, alert for anything but especially for Great-crested Flycatchers. I could hear them, they’re plentiful and active and I’m sure they nest here. Late last summer I encountered a family of them, parents and three or four capably flying young, but for OBBA, that doesn’t prove breeding here, they could have come from another square. Great-crested Flycatchers are cavity-nesters so although I probably won’t see one on or at its nest: an adult carrying nest material or food for young would be a big step forward.

The clouds were closing in a bit but not nearly enough to spoil the day. A singing Willow Flycatcher was a bit of a surprise and I watched a pair of Warbling Vireos interacting as if in courtship, one singing while the other watched attentively.

My Bird of the Day was this Red-bellied Woodpecker. I spotted it some distance away, and when it flew closer to me I could tell that it was a very young fledgling. It is plain grey, no red at all, that will come later this year. It was so young that you can still make out the yellow lips of its nestling gape. When it took flight, it looked uncertain of quite how and where to land, but once safe it probed tree bark enquiringly as its DNA instructed.   Food was at hand nevertheless, its dad was near and watching me closely, perhaps out of caution or possibly hoping I had handouts to share. I would guess this youngster left the nest for the first time yesterday or perhaps this morning.

A few spots of rain set me heading back home but not before I heard another Mourning Warbler. Good reason to go back, and I shall very soon.

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