My Bird of the Day

Haldimand County. ON. December 27 2022. The farmland where I had enjoyed watching a couple of Northern Harriers six weeks ago is a clay plain, the left-overs an ancient glacial lake.  It is wide and flat, criss-crossed by a grid of long straight roads: hot and dreamy in August, windswept and cold in January. I went back there today, wanting to see if the harriers were still around in this snow-drifted landscape.

A century or more ago, European settlers, through their land surveyors, were rectangularly methodical in dividing up this new-to-them land. It was parcelled up into townships, concessions and lots with provision for roads in between. Sometimes, where the work of two surveyors met, a clash of straight-line geometry resulted, with roads and fence-lines colliding and bouncing off each other at angles, obtuse and acute.

I was in one of these geometrically-muddled corners and driving slowly along quiet country roads, on the lookout for a harrier.  I drove beneath a large bird perched nervously on top of an old utility pole and assumed it to be a Red-tailed Hawk. I was wrong. About an hour later I had circled around, as much inadvertently as intentionally, when I saw this same large bird but now in flight. This was not a Red-tailed but a Rough-legged Hawk, a horse of quite a different colour – to mix metaphors.

Rough-legged Hawks are an Arctic species with a breeding distribution across the taiga and tundra of the Old and New Worlds. The Ontario Breeding Bird Atlas of 2001-2005 concluded there were fewer than five breeding pairs in the vastness of Ontario.  It is an uncommon winter visitor here, but happily for us birders it seems to like this wide-open country.  It is a treat and a privilege to see one.

I pulled to one side, carefully because sometimes where gravel becomes grass, grass become snow and snow becomes an unseen ditch.  Safe and settled, I soon realized that a Northern Harrier had shown up and was coursing the fields: skimming low on light bouncy wing-strokes, sometimes turning abruptly to drop into the deeper grass for a catch. Meanwhile the Rough-legged Hawk had settled on the top of a lone tree. I watched and admired both for a long time and was lucky enough to get perhaps my best-ever photos of the hawk.

There were other nice birds today including: a small flock of Wild Turkeys, a large flock of Snow Buntings and a solitary adult Bald Eagle. While they all deserve a bit more than footnote status, that’s all they get because the Rough-legged Hawk was unquestionably my Bird of the Day.

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Eastport, Hamilton, ON. December 26 2022. The bitterly cold storm of this Christmas Day will be remembered for a long time by the many who had it hard. Perhaps surprisingly, with the wind’s direction in our favour, we got off lightly. Had we lived downwind of the lake we might well be digging our way out of a metre or two of snow.

Before lunch today I checked open water along the lakeshore, not really expecting much in the way of variety but rather just to enjoy the usual winter waterfowl, things like Long-tailed Ducks, White–winged Scoters, Common and Red–breasted Mergansers and Common Goldeneyes.  They were all there, drifting their way through winter.

I took the service road that skirts the rim of the industrial harbour and was lucky to glimpse a fast-flying sickle, – a small falcon. Merlin or Kestrel? I pulled over hoping to catch a better look, and luckily another one came up from behind me to land atop a streetlight a little further along. One quick look was all I got – an  American Kestrel, lovely! But the light was poor and it soon flicked away.

Although it’s six months off-season, I have the Ontario Breeding Bird Atlas in mind and a pair of them nested in this area two summers ago, my hopeful suspicion is that these were the same birds and that they’ll nest again.

Later, on my return, I kept a watchful eye for the kestrels and was very pleased to spot one of them, rocking in the gusts at the top of a wind-torn tree. This time I had a better vantage point and much better light. He was busy ripping apart a rodent of some kind, far too busy refuelling to bother with onlookers like me. Such is the life, death and purpose of a roadside mouse – post-Christmas dinner for my Bird of the Day.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Cootes Paradise, Hamilton. ON. December 18 2022. Ending my walk, I turned to look back and was struck by the silvery-ness of this shallow, remnant lake at the west end of Lake Ontario. I was finishing a long, almost bird-less, walk and realized now that silver had dominated this December day.

Almost bird-less but for ducks and swans. A small flock of Tundra Swans sat far from shore, most of them with their heads turned and tucked underwing, just whiling away winter. I think they should have kept on going east to the Atlantic seaboard, as most Tundra Swans surely have to: Virginia, North Carolina, perhaps Chesapeake Bay.  Open water means access to food and however cold this winter may become; the ocean does not freeze.

There were about thirty of them in a strung-out cluster of bright white against the opposite shore. There were Northern Shovelers, Gadwall and Mallards too, here and there, busy about daily life until a Bald Eagle appeared from somewhere and they all took off in an explosive panic until the threat drifted away. The swans were quite unmoved, apparently eagle-panic is not in their makeup.

Steadying my camera, I took several long-shot photos of the swans, they don’t really tell you much, except that a couple of them are youngsters, hatched this year and still smudged with sooty grey.

Royal Botanical Gardens. Cootes Paradise, Hamilton. ON. December 17 2022. Under a rather sullen sky I suggested we get out and get some exercise. It was not the sort of weather to inspire much of anything, instead it was windy, raw and hovering around freezing. (I know one or two birders who profess to love a day like this).

Birds of trees were hard to find, but ducks were plentiful and we scanned groups of Mallards, Northern Shovelers and Gadwall making the most of the open water.  Northern Shoveler males (above) are a little on the gaudy and disheveled side while Gadwall males are distinctly not. (below) – there’s something rather Bank of England about them; well dressed, confident and subdued. Gadwall are welcome any time.

In a low and soggy inlet that always seems to hold some active bird life even on the coldest days, there was movement: a Song Sparrow, possibly two. And then a wren – maybe. Each time I got my binoculars on the right spot it had moved. I suspected Carolina Wren but hoped for Winter Wren. Winter Wrens are so tiny they can be forgiven for being a bit pushy.  Carolina Wrens, on the other hand, are more like the noisy neighbour who plays his kind of music loud and takes liberties in the belief that everyone loves him.

Well it was a Carolina Wren and it showed itself for a few minutes.

Right. I thought. Don’t move and I’ll get some photos of you. Maybe then I’ll come to like you. It did, I did and then liked this Carolina Wren a lot (above and below). Certainly, My Bird of the Day today.