Welcome back, Wood Ducks!
March 22nd, 2010
One mated pair, Rideau River by the tennis club.
Now it's time to break out the camera again.
Lots of Mallards and Canada Geese at Riverain Park today--and two men feeding them what looked like hunks of sesame bagel. There were geese in the mix who were noticeably smaller and slimmer than the rest. I don't know that they were quite small enough to be Cackling Geese. In fact after years of birding, I still haven't added that species to my list. I've seen a lot of smallish Canada Geese, but I could never be sure. Canada Geese come in many sizes and only the smallest of them has (recently) been classified as a separate species.
Anyway, what was interesting about this was the sheer aggression of the small geese. The big ones--the type you usually see in parks around here--seemed to understand how this worked: everyone would get their share, there was no need to push and shove. The small geese were trying to chase everyone else away and get all the bagel to themselves. And the big geese let themselves be bullied!
South of Hurdman Station and north of Riverside Hospital, the Rideau goes through a wooded area. It's not usually productive for more than very common species. But in late March and early April, it's a spring migration gold mine. It floods. Often it floods so much that the flood engulfs the bike path, and you need waterproof boots to get through. Wood Ducks, Hooded Mergansers and Ring-Necked Ducks are attracted to it, as are thrushes and kinglets: the ducks swim amidst the flooded vegetation searching for food, while the songbirds hop around on bushes and logs above the water, picking out insects. In spring 2008 I twice saw a Fox Sparrow there. I've never found that species at any other time or place.
This spring, though, I fear my gold mine will run dry. Literally. There's no flood. There was not enough melting snow, not nearly enough, to create a flood. And throughout Ottawa the story is similar, fields and waterways that flood and attract water-loving migrants will not do so this year. That's the price we pay for our mild winter and early spring.
I almost hope for one more big snowfall to come and fix us up.....almost.
More redwing closeups
March 21st, 2010
More pictures of that beautiful tame redwing.
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Jack Pine Trail, Mud Lake, and spring arrival #5
March 19th, 2010
First off, mallard calisthenics.
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Today I drove myself and my mother-in-law to Jack Pine Trail. This trail is part of the Stony Swamp area and is rather famous with birders. This is only the second time I've been there, and the first time I've driven there--now that I've learned the way I look forward to more such trips in the future. We had a great time, although we didn't see any birds of interest, new migrants or otherwise--just common year-rounders (including a Red-Breasted Nuthatch), plus redwings and Canada Geese. Then we drove a very short distance down the road to Beaver Trail and hiked that too.
Mud Lake yesterday, on my own, also produced no birds of interest. It seems that despite our early spring (there are not only buds now, but some of the buds are opening!), most species of migrants are following their own set timetable. This bodes well for my trip to Point Pelee. I was starting to worry that everything will have passed through already by the time I get there!
I did see several pairs of Canada Geese at ML who seemed to be disputing over who's going to get to nest where. They were out standing and walking on the half-frozen, slushy pond, honking furiously at each other. Any time geese would fly over honking, the ones on the pond would answer vociferously, as if to say, "not here, pal! This spot's taken!"
It occurred to me that, in at least one case, the winner might end up the loser. According to a fellow I ran into last year, there's a goose nest at Mud Lake that loses its eggs every year. Snapping turtles, he figures. It's just not high enough above the water. Of course, several pairs of geese do breed successfully in that area, as evidenced by the large creche of adorable goslings that forms every summer.
Finally, this evening, a brief walk along the Rideau produced spring arrival number five, right on schedule: Song Sparrow! One was foraging on the ground near a feeder.
Promises
March 18th, 2010
Red-Winged Blackbird
March 17th, 2010
Just south of Cummings Bridge, on the Rideau, there's a low shore that flooded during a rainstorm this winter, then promptly froze over. The flood is thawing now, and the resulting swampy area is heaven on earth to certain birds. Mallards and gulls are loving it, grackles are loving it, redwings are loving it. They're all swimming and wading around sharing the space.
One redwing was wading in the flood looking for food, occasionally pausing to sing and flash his epaulets. Even for his species this guy was gutsy. Several times I had to dial back my lens because he was wandering in my direction and 300mm had become too much!
Also, the light on that riverbank is just glorious in the morning. I think I've mentioned this before.
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"MY territory, bub--and don't you forget it!"
Hurdman Hawk
March 16th, 2010
A lone Red-Tailed Hawk is still haunting Hurdman transit station, after some weeks now.
He must be finding an abundant supply of voles in the neighboring fields. I saw him hunt once--he flew over to the hill, hovered, landed in the grass and stood motionless for some time, perhaps listening for the pitter-patter of their little feet.
The crows harass him whenever they find him. Sometimes they seem to be on patrol. I've seen them land on that hill and spread out, not foraging, just looking around and cawing.
Ah well.
With redwings and grackles back in town, it won't be long before the crows are getting a taste of their own medicine.
Mourning Dove
March 15th, 2010
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Ode To Goldeneyes
March 14th, 2010
Those of you who've only recently joined me may not have heard my "goldeneye spiel" yet. So here it is:
I love Common Goldeneyes. They are my sentimental favorite of all Canadian ducks. They may not be the most beautiful of all ducks (though they are beautiful), and they certainly aren't the rarest of all ducks. They are arguably the toughest of all ducks, and for that, among other things, I love them.
Goldeneyes are diving ducks. This class of waterfowl is less familiar to most people, because they tend to be very wild and swim far from shore. Unlike "dabbling ducks" who feed by picking at the surface of the water, tipping up, or even foraging on land, diving ducks forage by submerging entirely underwater. Bird-watching with them can be an exercise in patience. If they're busily feeding, you get to watch only for seconds at a time before they go *bloop* and disappear.
Diving ducks are truly aquatic birds. Most of them never go onto land except to nest. Their adaptations for diving have rendered them ungainly in flight. They have to flap fast to stay in the air, and while a dabbler, such as a mallard, can spring right up out of the water, a diver has to patter furiously along the surface for some meters before it can lift off.
Why do I love Common Goldeneyes? Well, because they're gorgeous, for starters. Brilliant white, heads glossed with iridescent green, bright yellow eyes. None of the photos I've posted do justice to them (this is the closest I've come); these guys just don't come close enough to shore for a quality close-up, unless you've got a way longer lens than I've got. The only way to really appreciate them is with a good set of binoculars.
And because as an Ottawan I have a certain sense of...well, ownership. Common Goldeneyes are "ours" for five months out of the year. They spend the winter with us, in large numbers. The humble little Rideau River is one of their favorite wintering grounds. In fact one of the photos on their Wikipedia page was even taken on the Rideau.
And because their courtship rituals are the nuttiest thing I've ever seen. A male swims along, and all of a sudden he pops his head 180 degrees back, as far as it will go. It happens so fast you'd think he was spring-loaded.
And because they kick ass. Very few waterfowl winter inland as far north as the goldeneyes do--and most of those who do depend on humans to feed them. Goldeneyes shun humans, catch all their own food and not only survive Canadian winter, but thrive in it. Even in 30 below when the Mallards and Blacks are all huddled up on shore, hiding their faces and trying to stay warm, the goldeneyes are out there, splashing and diving and not looking at all perturbed. They can be seen, too, in the pounding rapids of the Ottawa River, braving the waves and the current.
Now it's coming time for them to head back to their breeding grounds in the north. Those wintering here will leave; others, wintering further south, will move through. Goldeneyes, like most ducks, pair off on their wintering grounds, with the pairs travelling together in spring migration.
Many males have already attracted a mate.
Others are still trying...
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At least one Barrow's Goldeneye (Common Goldeneye's rare-in-the-east close cousin) is still present on the Rideau--and this time, he actually came close enough to shore for me to get some half-decent photos! I even managed to capture his indigo gloss in the second pic.
That's a female Common with him. They often seem to find these exotic males fascinating.
Serenity
March 12th, 2010
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Where's Waldo?
March 10th, 2010
Arguably Canada's most well-camouflaged bird: the Brown Creeper.
Having taken about twenty shots in rapid succession, I managed to catch a profile view of this guy: a rare occasion when a creeper was somewhere other than plastered to the bark of a tree, and virtually invisible.
Creepers are another year-round species. I log most of my sightings of them in winter and early spring, when they wander in diverse habitats in search of food. Like nuthatches they're little birds that creep along tree trunks and branches, probing the bark for food. (They survive in winter thanks to the presence of hibernating insects.) Unlike nuthatches, they can't climb back down; instead, having reached the top of one tree, they fly to the bottom of the next one and spiral up again. The presence of a creeper is announced--if you're lucky--by a faint high-pitched call, similar to a chickadee tweet, but more high-pitched and drawn out.
This is what a Brown Creeper sighting usually looks like:
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