Our disaster, their wonderland
May 19th, 2017
I went birding at Mud Lake on Wednesday the 10th. It was like no visit to Mud
Lake ever before, and probably none hence. (For those of you in Ottawa, you
maybe heard in the news about "flooding in Britannia"? Yeah. Britannia is
where Mud Lake is.) I felt quite confident heading down the trail with a pair
of knee-high rubber boots on. But even thus equipped I was unable to complete
the loop.
The pond (connected with the swollen Ottawa River) had simply taken over. For
large swathes of the trail, there was no trail. There were ducks paddling and
fish swimming where there had once been a trail. And the Rusties, oh my god,
the Rusties. Rusty Blackbirds, as I mentioned in my last post, are a species
of icterids who love foraging on flooded ground. The rich brown coloration
that gives them their name is only seen in fall and winter. By this time of
year, females are charcoal and males are glossy black, with striking pale
eyes, like miniature short-tailed grackles. In good light they show a
steel-blue sheen. They are largely birds of the boreal forest and muskeg,
breeding north of us, and their population is in decline. Normally if I see a
few of them in a year I'm happy.
Mud Lake was dripping with Rusty Blackbirds, far, far more than I'd ever heard
or seen. To them it was a wonderland. Anywhere there was water where there
shouldn't be, there they were, strutting along the margins of the flood or
perching over it, and filling the air with their
odd, stuttery, gurgling songs. As
I splashed my way down the "trail" I could see the flocks retreating before
me--but now and then a straggler granted me a photo op. I was in heaven
seeing, hearing and photographing so much of a bird that is usually elusive to
me.
That was a trail once.
The west entrance to the ridge.
Another sign that we're not in Kansas anymore: a mated pair of Greater Scaup
on Mud Lake. These are diving ducks who prefer fairly deep water. They show up
mainly on large rivers (like the Ottawa) in migration, and breed on large
lakes--
actual lakes, which "Mud Lake" isn't. But in its flooded state,
it must have looked like decent habitat to them!
(
Continue (Rusties galore, a couple of warblers, trout lilies and more!) )
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Of floods and falcons and other spring adventures
May 3rd, 2017
It's been a weird, wet, interesting spring.
In early April I made the traditional Ottawa birder's trek out to Cobb's Creek
floodplain, near Bourget. Each spring Cobb's Creek floods and turns the
surrounding fields into a shallow lake, attracting migrant waterfowl. I went
twice, first solo and a few days later with Mike. On my solo trip I found the
water mostly iced over, although that didn't dissuade the tens of thousands of
Snow Geese! Few ducks to be seen, though.
I decided to go hiking down the old railbed trail. Not far down I found a
long-tailed, light gray bird, singing away. Its song was a rather
random-sounding series of phrases, some repeated. Well, I figured I knew what
that had to be: my first Ontario mockingbird! I see mockingbirds galore
whenever I visit my parents in the southern states, but it was still exciting
to see one close to home, where they are quite rare.
But then I twigged to something...what was with that dark streak through the
eye? Mockingbird doesn't have that. Then the "mockingbird" flew and alit on
another tree in much better lighting, flicking its tail, and my mistake became
clear. Black mask, hooked bill, faintly barred breast: not a mockingbird but a
Northern Shrike. Though this was not an Ontario first, it was just as
exciting, simply because I'd never found a shrike singing before. Shrikes are
oddities of evolution, carnivorous songbirds that actually catch and eat other
birds (and rodents.) Lacking sharp talons to hold onto their prey, they have
developed the grisly habit of impaling it on barbed wire or a thorny branch.
Chickadees dread them. It seemed so surreal for this fierce raptor (well,
pseudo-raptor) to be singing cheerily!
A few days later I went back with Mike, and all was changed. The ice was off
the water, and the water had swelled to become the most impressive flood I'd
ever seen. It actually had waves. It had positively overshot the water level
preferred by dabbling ducks, so again, there were few to be seen. Instead of
duck-watching we ended up muskrat-watching! Hard to believe how many of them
were paddling around in there.
In mid-April, around the time when Michael and I were contending with our
flooding basement window well, I went hiking at Shirley's Bay and came to a
spot where the river had simply swallowed the trail whole. Rubber boots would
not have sufficed, hip-waders
may have sufficed, but frankly, I'd put
my money on a canoe. So I turned back, but not before having seen a wealth of
migrant birds, including the largest group of Rusty Blackbirds that I'd ever
found in spring. Rusties are grackle-like blackbirds (but smaller and
shorter-tailed) who forage for food on swampy, flooded ground. Is it a
coincidence that
this is the spring when I see my biggest spring group
of Rusties ever? I doubt it.
At the end of April, we hiked the Rideau from Billings Bridge to Hog's Back
Falls and back. Highlights included a male Red-Breasted Merganser acting
surprisingly pair-bonded with a female Common Merganser, and a Double-Crested
Cormorant in resplendent breeding plumage, with an all-over indigo sheen and a
gular pouch so strikingly yellow it looked painted. (Cormorants only look like
that for a short time each year. In fact, seeing this bird made me realize
that much of what I admired about the
Great
Cormorants in Cape Breton was due to finding them at peak season, and not due
to their particular species.)
But the big highlight came near Billings Bridge, as we were walking back
through the park lawn and a long-tailed light gray bird flew into a bush,
flashing white wing patches. "I'm pretty sure that was a mockingbird," I told
Mike.
"You're kidding," he said.
Since I had recent experience of mistaking a shrike for a mockingbird, I
didn't want to be cavalier. So we waited patiently until the bird finally flew
out, perched in a tree, and gave us a good look. There was then no question.
Ontario-first Northern Mockingbird, for real this time! I reported it on
Ontbirds, and about an hour later, it had been re-found by Paul Mirsky. Two
others reported it early the next morning. This was exciting for me, as I
don't often get to be a first finder of rarities, and the last time I was (the
European Goldfinch at my feeder in 2015), the bird split before anyone other
than me and my husband got a chance to enjoy it.
That brings me to this morning at Mud Lake, where I found the trail flooded in
places it has never flooded before. (This is going to end eventually, right?
We're not going to need an ark?) It was a cold morning with very few spring
migrants to be seen, but one sighting from Cassels Road made my day by itself.
All the Red-Winged Blackbirds in the vicinity began making alarm calls, and
then a large raptor swooped in and started circling. When you see a raptor
flying over Mud Lake you expect a Cooper's Hawk or an Osprey, maybe a Merlin
(a small falcon) if you're lucky. This bird was definitely a falcon by shape,
but it outsized any Merlin and had the thick black sideburns of the Merlin's
more famous relative, Peregrine Falcon! And now that it was overhead the
blackbirds were making sounds like I had never heard them make. (If you are
familiar with the redwing's usual piercing alarm call, imagine that, but
furtive and muted instead of piercing, with a certain "oh shit" quality about
it.)
Then it actually went into a stoop: it dove down at the water, veering up at
the last minute. But I couldn't see anything there that it would have been
stooping at. Maybe a young falcon practicing its moves?
Coming soon, rain with more rain and a side of rain. And coming hopefully
after all that is over with, my big four-day trip to Point Pelee with Jon
Ruddy.
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Living Sunshine
April 15th, 2017
Grill season has arrived, and alas, that means that bird-feeding season is
over, at least for me--the husband generally prefers not to get crowned with
finch droppings while cooking our dinner :-) And I prefer to only feed birds
in the coldest, most difficult months so as not to create dependency.
I got this photo just before I discontinued feeding. These two males were in
almost perfect breeding plumage (compare with the more dishevelled appearance
in my previous post, and then with the bare winter plumage in the post before
that.) Goldfinches are so shy out in nature--I had never before been able to
approach them closely enough to get a picture like this. But at feeders they
can become a good deal more tame, and these had all winter to get used to me.
I was right across the window from them.
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Tiding Us Over
March 30th, 2017
In mid-May, Michael is joining me for a four-day bird-watching trip to Point
Pelee, led by birding dynamo
Jon Ruddy. This
will be my third time in Point Pelee at the height of spring migration, and
I'm thrilled to be going back. Hopefully, for the first time, I can get good
photos of the warbler extravaganza. (The first time I got some photos, but
mostly not of warblers. The second time my back gave out and I had to stow the
camera away. This time, I'm planning to buy a camera harness to help with the
back issues.)
In the meantime, here are a few recent and not-so-recent photos. This first
one is the last of my summer 2016 backlog. I call it "Reaching For The Sun",
which is rather what I'm doing around now in Ottawa!
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This young male Harlequin Duck (the brown one in the middle) spent the winter
on the Rideau River, often near Hurdman Bridge. On this day in mid-January he
was keeping close company with a group of young male (the leftmost duck) and
adult male Common Goldeneyes. The large majority of Harlequins live in the
west, breeding on turbulent mountain streams in places like Banff. The
Atlantic population, which is presumably where this one strayed in from, is
small and endangered.
The adult male Harlequin is spectacularly handsome; unfortunately we seldom
see one of those here in Ottawa. However, we might if this guy sticks around
long enough! I saw him again just today, and while he wasn't showing much
color yet, the markings on his face were a lot more well-defined and striking.
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It saddens me that birders snub so many interesting birds because they're
common, or non-native, or otherwise uncool. I've made it my mission to keep
seeing the beauty in what some call "dirt birds." Today's exhibit: a
resplendent Rock Pigeon, sharing birdseed with another pigeon and a Red
Squirrel along the Rideau River.
Photographed just a few days ago, goldfinches at my kitchen balcony feeder.
These two males are molting out of their drab winter plumage and into their
dazzling yellow summer plumage. The one on the left was further along in his
molt and looking very pretty, I think!
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Winter in Algonquin: Visitor Centre and Opeongo Road
February 7th, 2017
At the Visitor Centre I had some welcome hot food, then headed to the viewing
platform to check out the famous feeders. They usually have a flock of Evening
Grosbeaks in winter, but on this afternoon it was goldfinches, plus the odd
redpoll and siskin.
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I enjoyed the sight of goldfinches crowding into the surrounding trees waiting
their turns.
Another interesting but very distant (too distant for pictures) sight from the
platform was a moose carcass being fed on by a red fox. The moose had been
road-killed, and park staff put it out in the valley for the benefit of
scavengers. So far a fisher, a marten, the fox, ravens, wolves, and a Bald
Eagle have all been seen at the carcass! The scavenger-fest (if it's still on
by the time I post this) can be viewed on live webcam at
the Algonquin
Park website.
After lunch we headed to Opeongo Road, where, at the junction where the road
is gated off, we were met by another friendly, hungry group of Gray Jays. This
time I decided to photograph the action. I found this kind of photography very
rewarding--capturing the joy on peoples' faces as birds alight on their hand
with complete trust.
That's "WOSLROWR" (white over standard left, red over white right), the just
one-year-old territorial female of Cameron Lake Road.
Her six-year old mate.
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"GOBLBOSR" (green over blue left, blue over standard right) - an unrelated
male in the same territory. He was probably originally evicted from his natal
territory. A pair may be willing to "adopt" an unrelated jay if they have no
surviving offspring. He will stay with them for a little while until he can
find a place to call his own.
Don't forget the chickadees!
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Winter in Algonquin: Spruce Bog Boardwalk (part 2)
January 31st, 2017
We were not long past the parking lot when the high point of my trip happened:
the sight of male Evening Grosbeaks gathered on the boardwalk railing, their
burnt-gold bodies blazing against the snowy backdrop.
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We have a small, remnant population of Evening Grosbeaks near Ottawa, in the
area of Larose Forest. But they're difficult to find in the wild. (In winter
they show up at the feeders of people who live adjacent to the forest. I envy
those people!) They were once much more common.
Almost immediately after the grosbeaks was my very first male Spruce Grouse. I
had searched high and low for them the last two times I went to Algonquin,
with no luck. And it's anyone's guess whether I would have seen this one
without help. Just like
the female Spruce Grouse
Michael and I found in Cape Breton, he was up in a spruce tree noshing on
needles and making no sound. He regarded the gaggle of bird-watchers with an
unruffled air.
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A look at that pretty face:
Another point of interest at the spruce bog was a lone Boreal Chickadee, in
with a group of familiar Black-Capped Chickadees, coming to birdseed that
someone had scattered on the ground. Note the brown cap and the almost
chestnut-colored flanks, as compared to Black-Capped's black cap and buffy
flanks.
(More to come)
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Winter in Algonquin: Spruce Bog Boardwalk (part 1)
January 27th, 2017
Next that morning was Spruce Bog Boardwalk, one of the most popular spots in
Algonquin in winter. I quickly learned why. We were met at the parking lot by
a friendly group of Gray Jays. You may have heard the name "Gray Jay"
recently: it's been proposed as the new national bird of Canada. There has
been some consternation from folks who would rather it be the Common Loon, or
who just have no idea what a Gray Jay is and what's special about it. So let
me introduce you.
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A big, fluffy, soft gray teddy bear of a bird. It's nearly as big as a Blue
Jay, but as cute as a titmouse. A confiding and curious bird that readily
comes to a human hand to take peanuts and fruit. An intelligent bird that
caches food in thousands of different hiding places and remembers each one. A
tough-as-nails bird that lives in northern Canada year-round (Algonquin Park
is at the extreme southern limit of its range) and
incubates eggs in
the middle of a boreal winter. Friendly, smart, and unfazed by extreme
cold: what better bird to represent Canada?
I fell in love with them. Instantly. As with Evening Grosbeaks, I had seen
them before, but not like this.
A Gray Jay pair is strictly monogamous and lives in the same territory
(roughly 150 hectares each in Algonquin) year-round. As the pair's young
mature, they will increasingly fight with each other until one is established
as dominant, and drives its fledged siblings away. That individual gets the
privilege of living in its parents' territory for the rest of the year, and
maybe even the year after that. The others must hunt for a vacancy elsewhere
and have a somewhat lower chance of survival.
It is a rather odd and unique family arrangement among birds. In most species
that allow young to remain after fledging, the young pay their room and
board, as it were, by helping feed the next generation of nestlings. But Gray
Jay parents actually refuse to allow their teenagers to approach the nest! Not
until the chicks are out of the nest are the older siblings allowed to help
feed them.
The Gray Jays resident along the Highway 60 corridor are all banded as part of
a long-term study. Their bands uniquely identify them. The individual pictured
above, if I've determined correctly, is Mr. ROSLGOPR (red on standard left,
green on purple right). He's the dominant juvenile in the Sunday Creek
territory, staying with his parents for the second year. He is also fitted
with a radio transmitter. That thing that looks like a stray twig in front of
his tail is the antenna.
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That's the breeding female in the Boardwalk territory, six years old.
And that's her six-plus-year-old mate. By the way, the oldest known Gray Jay
in Algonquin Park is sixteen!
(More to come)
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Winter in Algonquin: Pine Grosbeaks and Pine Martens
January 22nd, 2017
Around the start of our trip, we came across a flock of female and juvenile
Pine Grosbeaks on the roadside, and carefully pulled over to watch them.
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Like many finches, Pine Grosbeaks need to eat grit to help them digest
their food, and roads are a good place to find it--but also a dangerous place.
It was a nervewracking moment for us when we heard a car coming fast around
the bend, but they all flushed just in time.
Drive carefully in the park!
One male White-Winged Crossbill wasn't so fortunate. Jon found him freshly
killed on the road. A beautiful bird even in death, and it would have been my
only decent picture of a crossbill on this trip, but I didn't have the heart.
Happily we also saw many healthy White-Winged Crossbills in multiple places,
crowding into spruce trees and prying open the cones to get at the seeds,
their favorite and usually only food.
(
Here's
a photo of one of the crossbills we saw taken by Laura, aka "The Afternoon
Birder." It shows the unique crossed mandibles that they use to twist open
conifer cones.)
A morning stop at Mew Lake Campground gave us some photogenic Blue Jays--
--and a thrilling, close-up view of a family group of Pine Martens! This was
my one lifer of the trip---a mammalian lifer, not a bird. Pine Martens are
mustelids, relatives of weasels and minks among others, that live in northern
coniferous woodlands. I found them enchanting. They were far more arboreal
than other mustelids I've encountered, scampering and leaping through trees
with the agility of monkeys. I tried to get action shots, but they were just
too fast for my shutter. The only good pictures were when they paused to have a
look at us.
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(More to come)
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Winter in Algonquin: Mind Blown
January 19th, 2017
On January 15th, I joined Jon Ruddy and ten others for a day-long birding trip
in Algonquin Provincial Park. And I took a break from my break from
photography for the day.
Algonquin, particularly the Highway 60 corridor in the south part of the park,
is famous among birders for its boreal specialties. Despite being less than
three hours drive from Ottawa, it hosts species more characteristic of
northern Ontario: Boreal Chickadees, Spruce Grouse, Gray Jays, Black-Backed
Woodpeckers, and of course, a healthy population of Moose. (One other way
Algonquin is reminiscent of north Ontario--its healthy population of
black flies! Jon is
doing an early June outing to Algonquin as well, around when they'll be at
their worst. I haven't yet decided whether I have the nerve to go.)
Though all of these birds nest in the park, they are often hard to find in the
warm months--as I've sadly found for myself on my two autumn vacations there.
There aren't really that many of them, they are spread over such a large area,
and, like many birds, they are inclined to be secretive during nesting season.
Winter is the best time to see them. That's when Gray Jays and others become
interested in human handouts, and Spruce Grouse hang out in plain view in
spruce trees.
As our paid guide, Jon had scouted the park a few days prior, taking note of
the best birding spots. We hit them all.
Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. There are not enough superlatives in the English
language. And I'm not sure if I'm describing the trip as a whole (though it
was definitely a great trip), or just the Evening Grosbeaks. I had no idea how
beautiful they were. People had scattered seed on the boardwalk railings, as
they often do at Stony Swamp here in Ottawa, but whereas in Stony Swamp it
would be chickadees and nuthatches, at Spruce Bog Boardwalk, at least on that
day, it was Evening Grosbeaks.
I was in awe. I just kept saying, "oh my god" and "I never knew"--to the point
that I felt embarrassed, but I couldn't shut myself up. I had seen them
before, a few times--but not like this. On a snowy winter morning in
Algonquin, Evening Grosbeaks
fluoresce.
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And as if that wasn't enough of a festival of color, next a Blue Jay flew in!
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...and proceeded to act like he owned the place.
In coming posts I'll go back to the beginning and share all the highlights of
the outing, roughly in chronological order.
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Memories of 2016 (part 3)
January 14th, 2017
Fringed Gentian, Cedar Grove Nature Trail, Sept. 4
Leopard Frog, Burnt Lands, July 30
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Greater Yellowlegs at the old quarry pond near Bill Mason Centre, Sept. 5th.
This bird is a common sight in Ottawa in fall migration. Like most sandpipers,
it nests in tundra and boreal forest, well north of us.
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Lurid fungi in Gatineau Park, Sept. 29th. Note another colony of something in
the lower left.
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