Of cars, and snakes, and little brown birds
April 14th, 2010
Well, that was...terrifying.
And wonderful.
This afternoon I drove myself to the fields south of the airport. This is my first trip to the location and my first really serious foray into grassland birding. The area is famous. Depending where exactly you go, there's a huge variety of breeding sparrows (some quite rare), a variety of raptors, owls. There are ponds that attract waterfowl in fall migration, other places sporting farmland breeders like partridge and bobolinks (species you'd normally find only in much more outlying regions).
And, this area is one of the only remaining enclaves for Eastern Bluebirds in Ottawa. This is due partly to it being the grassland habitat that they favor, and partly to the abundance of manmade bluebird nest boxes--the work, according to one article I read, of a single couple, Brian and June Pye.
Where I come from, in Virginia, bluebirds are abundant suburban residents. You see them in front yards, on power lines, at feeders. Here, at the north edge of their range, they are rare and restricted, much more selective about habitat (as birds often are at the edge of their range). Before today I'd never seen an Ottawa bluebird. (Not to be confused with Ottawa blue jays, of which there are plenty. The bluebird is much smaller, with a rusty orange breast.)
I had been waiting for some more experienced birder, or some OFNC tour, to introduce me to this area. But when I studied it on Google Maps, I was excited to discover just how easy it is for me to get there myself. All I have to do is drive south on my very own Riverside Drive--Riverside turns into Limebank (maybe not officially, but it feels that way)--and then I'm practically there! It looked easy. It ended up being the most challenging, or at least the most intimidating, solo driving I've done yet.
This was my planned destination today. Sparrow heaven. A sort of reconnaissance mission, so I thought, since I didn't expect many of the field-dwelling sparrows to be back from migration yet. So I headed south on Riverside. Got caught in rush hour traffic, which I didn't really mind, what with the beautiful view of the river and park to my right.
When I got far enough south--past Hunt Club--it happened just like Google Maps told me it would: civilization quite suddenly dropped off. Fields and more fields, and the speed limit went up to 80. That's when the excitement started. I missed my turn onto Leitrim. How I was supposed to know that was Leitrim, without prior knowledge (or a GPS--I'm trying to wean myself off those training wheels), I have no idea. The sign was not legible until I was past the intersection.
So there I am driving at high speed down an increasingly remote two-lane country highway and...what just happened to the other lane? Did the other lane just, like, end? How am I going to get back? If I pull over and plug in the GPS, will it tell me "oh, just do a u-turn!" not knowing that the other lane has CEASED TO EXIST?
But no...here it is again, and there are cars going down it. Bwah? Well, if they can surely I can. So I finally found a little gravel driveway-like thing to pull off in. It wasn't big enough to do a circle, so I waited until no one was coming, backed out into the other lane, and floored it. I don't know, maybe this sounds very basic to the rest of you. I'm a G2 driver and a timid driver and a not-very-experienced driver. Backing into an 80 km/h road scared the bejeebus out of me.
Got back to Leitrim and saw what the confusion was--there was construction, and the road was narrowed, but still two lanes. Turn right. This was the next excitement. The instructions for getting to the "Leitrim West" site end here. I figured if there wasn't an actual parking area there'd at least be shoulders wide enough to park on. Um, not really. There's a building over there but it doesn't look particularly public nor particularly friendly, and I really don't have a lot of time to think about this. (These were not the peaceful, half-deserted country roads I was expecting. There was traffic. Fast traffic.) Okay, so here I am again driving down the road and I have NO idea where I'm going and oh sh*t am I even going to be able to find my way back at this point and....
I pulled over onto the shoulder.
This was partly a "lets see if I can make this into a parking space" but mainly a "I need to stop and think." Someone honked at me as they went by. I took that to mean my back end was still in the road obstructing traffic, so I pulled over more, onto the very sloping shoulder, trying to strike a happy medium between "stay in traffic and get rear-ended" and "drive into the ditch and see if I can get a signal on my cell phone to call a tow truck."
By now I'd say my pulse was going pretty fast.
You know, I'm starting to feel that certain aspects of driver's ed were not so useful. That they filled me full of useless trivia like "what way to turn the wheel when you're parking uphill with a curb" (okay, so that's probably not useless trivia, but I haven't needed it yet, and besides, is this really so important when all cars made in the past twenty years have parking brakes?) instead of useful things like "how to park on a sloping shoulder" and "how to turn around when you're barreling at 80 km/h into nowhere and no one involved in the making of the road had any inkling that you might, possibly, want to turn around."
I think I'd like my driver's manual better if, like the Hitchhiker's Guide, its cover were inscribed with "DON'T PANIC" in big friendly letters. And below that, in fine print, it would say "we all have to die sometime."
But I digress.
I decided that this probably wasn't something I could call a parking space. Maybe in an emergency. Not now. It didn't feel safe. I checked my notes. Up ahead was supposed to be a turn-off to Bowesville Road, where I would find the "Bluebird Trail." That sounded promising. That sounded like something that might actually be a formal kind of place with a formal kind of parking area, maybe even a trail. And bluebirds were more likely to be around at this early date anyway, than the sparrows I had in mind. Lets do it. (Sound of gravel rattling out of my wheels as I get off the shoulder and once again, floor the gas pedal.)
I turn off onto Bowesville and oh my god, oh Mary and Jesus and all the angels there is a PARKING AREA, and there are CARS in it. And there are little BIRD BOXES! And there is a TRAIL! *dies* *goes to heaven*
I saw my very first Ottawa bluebird before I was even out of the car. A female, perched on a power line. Thanks to my experience down south, I can identify this species at a glance. And I saw plenty more on my walk (most of them, also, perched on power lines), including the vivid lapis-blue males.
I'd been wanting to do more rural hiking and rural birding for awhile now. And though less than a half hour's drive from my home, this place was all the rural I could have hoped for. Beautiful wide-open uncultivated meadow, crisscrossed with dirt trails and narrow gravel roads. Stands of tall birches in the distance, some pines and spruces here and there, a few picturesque shade trees. A little pond I passed made me wish I'd brought my camera, though I know I couldn't have captured it. There was no composition to speak of. It was the colors. The deep deep blue water and the vivid green grass, and the way this little pond was nestled into the field. What can I say--I've lived my life in built-up areas, so when it comes to places like this, I'm easy to impress.
There were a few other people around. They were all dog-walkers. Of all the non-nature-lovers I could run into on a trail, I think I mind the dog-walkers the least, probably because I'm a dog-lover too. Mostly they were the big furry dogs that I favor--Berners and Huskies and Border Collies. They were all running off-leash and having a great time. The only other distraction was, of course, the planes. That too was a pleasant distraction. It wasn't near enough to the airport for there to be any undue noise, and it was neat to see them so close-up.
My next treat was an American Kestrel perched on a power line. My only other kestrel sighting (quite recently, as you'll recall) was brief and unsatisfying--this one could not have been better. Close-up, and all the light I needed to appreciate what a gorgeous bird he was. He was eating something, and when I got close enough I saw what looked like a red-bellied snake in his talons.
He finally took off, but didn't immediately fly away--he circled overhead, the snake still in his talons, giving me more incredible views of this elegant, colorful falcon. And slowly he circled away until he was out of sight.
At this point, I decided it had been worth the trouble to get here. But there was more to come. Two lifers more to come, in fact.
After awhile of exploring the meadow I came upon two sparrows in a bush. Field Sparrows to be precise. Lifer number one! I came prepared, and identified them quickly. They were one of the species I was expecting, and they were everything the field guides said, both looks and behavior. Tiny little mites with high-pitched peeping voices and rusty crowns, not particularly shy. Most reminiscent of the Chipping Sparrow (a common backyard bird), but without that species' strong facial pattern.
Around this time, a din was building in the distance. A sound like a hundred birds all chirping at once. I usually linger over a new species when I can, but the sound finally pulled me away. I followed it...and came back to that little deep-blue pond. It had been silent when I arrived; now, with afternoon moving into evening, a chorus of musical chirps arose from it. I'd never heard such a thing--I'd heard the occasional sweet-voiced frog but never so many of them at once. Spring Peepers, maybe?
After enjoying that for awhile, I headed back out. Four vultures soared slowly overhead. (Sorry, fellas. Not dead yet!) And after a little more exploring I found my final treat of the day: a lifer Vesper Sparrow. This one was less straightforward than the Field Sparrows, and I had to study it awhile to be sure. But in the end, I was sure.
I'm finally doing it. I'm finally closing the grassland gap in my lifelist. And it's happening pretty darned fast, now that I've set my mind to it!
I'll be back. Back to search for the ultra-shy, ultra-sneaky Grasshopper Sparrow, and for Short-Eared Owls, and many others. But perhaps next time I'll go there with someone more experienced in tow.
April 14th, 2010
Well, that was...terrifying.
And wonderful.
This afternoon I drove myself to the fields south of the airport. This is my first trip to the location and my first really serious foray into grassland birding. The area is famous. Depending where exactly you go, there's a huge variety of breeding sparrows (some quite rare), a variety of raptors, owls. There are ponds that attract waterfowl in fall migration, other places sporting farmland breeders like partridge and bobolinks (species you'd normally find only in much more outlying regions).
And, this area is one of the only remaining enclaves for Eastern Bluebirds in Ottawa. This is due partly to it being the grassland habitat that they favor, and partly to the abundance of manmade bluebird nest boxes--the work, according to one article I read, of a single couple, Brian and June Pye.
Where I come from, in Virginia, bluebirds are abundant suburban residents. You see them in front yards, on power lines, at feeders. Here, at the north edge of their range, they are rare and restricted, much more selective about habitat (as birds often are at the edge of their range). Before today I'd never seen an Ottawa bluebird. (Not to be confused with Ottawa blue jays, of which there are plenty. The bluebird is much smaller, with a rusty orange breast.)
I had been waiting for some more experienced birder, or some OFNC tour, to introduce me to this area. But when I studied it on Google Maps, I was excited to discover just how easy it is for me to get there myself. All I have to do is drive south on my very own Riverside Drive--Riverside turns into Limebank (maybe not officially, but it feels that way)--and then I'm practically there! It looked easy. It ended up being the most challenging, or at least the most intimidating, solo driving I've done yet.
This was my planned destination today. Sparrow heaven. A sort of reconnaissance mission, so I thought, since I didn't expect many of the field-dwelling sparrows to be back from migration yet. So I headed south on Riverside. Got caught in rush hour traffic, which I didn't really mind, what with the beautiful view of the river and park to my right.
When I got far enough south--past Hunt Club--it happened just like Google Maps told me it would: civilization quite suddenly dropped off. Fields and more fields, and the speed limit went up to 80. That's when the excitement started. I missed my turn onto Leitrim. How I was supposed to know that was Leitrim, without prior knowledge (or a GPS--I'm trying to wean myself off those training wheels), I have no idea. The sign was not legible until I was past the intersection.
So there I am driving at high speed down an increasingly remote two-lane country highway and...what just happened to the other lane? Did the other lane just, like, end? How am I going to get back? If I pull over and plug in the GPS, will it tell me "oh, just do a u-turn!" not knowing that the other lane has CEASED TO EXIST?
But no...here it is again, and there are cars going down it. Bwah? Well, if they can surely I can. So I finally found a little gravel driveway-like thing to pull off in. It wasn't big enough to do a circle, so I waited until no one was coming, backed out into the other lane, and floored it. I don't know, maybe this sounds very basic to the rest of you. I'm a G2 driver and a timid driver and a not-very-experienced driver. Backing into an 80 km/h road scared the bejeebus out of me.
Got back to Leitrim and saw what the confusion was--there was construction, and the road was narrowed, but still two lanes. Turn right. This was the next excitement. The instructions for getting to the "Leitrim West" site end here. I figured if there wasn't an actual parking area there'd at least be shoulders wide enough to park on. Um, not really. There's a building over there but it doesn't look particularly public nor particularly friendly, and I really don't have a lot of time to think about this. (These were not the peaceful, half-deserted country roads I was expecting. There was traffic. Fast traffic.) Okay, so here I am again driving down the road and I have NO idea where I'm going and oh sh*t am I even going to be able to find my way back at this point and....
I pulled over onto the shoulder.
This was partly a "lets see if I can make this into a parking space" but mainly a "I need to stop and think." Someone honked at me as they went by. I took that to mean my back end was still in the road obstructing traffic, so I pulled over more, onto the very sloping shoulder, trying to strike a happy medium between "stay in traffic and get rear-ended" and "drive into the ditch and see if I can get a signal on my cell phone to call a tow truck."
By now I'd say my pulse was going pretty fast.
You know, I'm starting to feel that certain aspects of driver's ed were not so useful. That they filled me full of useless trivia like "what way to turn the wheel when you're parking uphill with a curb" (okay, so that's probably not useless trivia, but I haven't needed it yet, and besides, is this really so important when all cars made in the past twenty years have parking brakes?) instead of useful things like "how to park on a sloping shoulder" and "how to turn around when you're barreling at 80 km/h into nowhere and no one involved in the making of the road had any inkling that you might, possibly, want to turn around."
I think I'd like my driver's manual better if, like the Hitchhiker's Guide, its cover were inscribed with "DON'T PANIC" in big friendly letters. And below that, in fine print, it would say "we all have to die sometime."
But I digress.
I decided that this probably wasn't something I could call a parking space. Maybe in an emergency. Not now. It didn't feel safe. I checked my notes. Up ahead was supposed to be a turn-off to Bowesville Road, where I would find the "Bluebird Trail." That sounded promising. That sounded like something that might actually be a formal kind of place with a formal kind of parking area, maybe even a trail. And bluebirds were more likely to be around at this early date anyway, than the sparrows I had in mind. Lets do it. (Sound of gravel rattling out of my wheels as I get off the shoulder and once again, floor the gas pedal.)
I turn off onto Bowesville and oh my god, oh Mary and Jesus and all the angels there is a PARKING AREA, and there are CARS in it. And there are little BIRD BOXES! And there is a TRAIL! *dies* *goes to heaven*
I saw my very first Ottawa bluebird before I was even out of the car. A female, perched on a power line. Thanks to my experience down south, I can identify this species at a glance. And I saw plenty more on my walk (most of them, also, perched on power lines), including the vivid lapis-blue males.
I'd been wanting to do more rural hiking and rural birding for awhile now. And though less than a half hour's drive from my home, this place was all the rural I could have hoped for. Beautiful wide-open uncultivated meadow, crisscrossed with dirt trails and narrow gravel roads. Stands of tall birches in the distance, some pines and spruces here and there, a few picturesque shade trees. A little pond I passed made me wish I'd brought my camera, though I know I couldn't have captured it. There was no composition to speak of. It was the colors. The deep deep blue water and the vivid green grass, and the way this little pond was nestled into the field. What can I say--I've lived my life in built-up areas, so when it comes to places like this, I'm easy to impress.
There were a few other people around. They were all dog-walkers. Of all the non-nature-lovers I could run into on a trail, I think I mind the dog-walkers the least, probably because I'm a dog-lover too. Mostly they were the big furry dogs that I favor--Berners and Huskies and Border Collies. They were all running off-leash and having a great time. The only other distraction was, of course, the planes. That too was a pleasant distraction. It wasn't near enough to the airport for there to be any undue noise, and it was neat to see them so close-up.
My next treat was an American Kestrel perched on a power line. My only other kestrel sighting (quite recently, as you'll recall) was brief and unsatisfying--this one could not have been better. Close-up, and all the light I needed to appreciate what a gorgeous bird he was. He was eating something, and when I got close enough I saw what looked like a red-bellied snake in his talons.
He finally took off, but didn't immediately fly away--he circled overhead, the snake still in his talons, giving me more incredible views of this elegant, colorful falcon. And slowly he circled away until he was out of sight.
At this point, I decided it had been worth the trouble to get here. But there was more to come. Two lifers more to come, in fact.
After awhile of exploring the meadow I came upon two sparrows in a bush. Field Sparrows to be precise. Lifer number one! I came prepared, and identified them quickly. They were one of the species I was expecting, and they were everything the field guides said, both looks and behavior. Tiny little mites with high-pitched peeping voices and rusty crowns, not particularly shy. Most reminiscent of the Chipping Sparrow (a common backyard bird), but without that species' strong facial pattern.
Around this time, a din was building in the distance. A sound like a hundred birds all chirping at once. I usually linger over a new species when I can, but the sound finally pulled me away. I followed it...and came back to that little deep-blue pond. It had been silent when I arrived; now, with afternoon moving into evening, a chorus of musical chirps arose from it. I'd never heard such a thing--I'd heard the occasional sweet-voiced frog but never so many of them at once. Spring Peepers, maybe?
After enjoying that for awhile, I headed back out. Four vultures soared slowly overhead. (Sorry, fellas. Not dead yet!) And after a little more exploring I found my final treat of the day: a lifer Vesper Sparrow. This one was less straightforward than the Field Sparrows, and I had to study it awhile to be sure. But in the end, I was sure.
I'm finally doing it. I'm finally closing the grassland gap in my lifelist. And it's happening pretty darned fast, now that I've set my mind to it!
I'll be back. Back to search for the ultra-shy, ultra-sneaky Grasshopper Sparrow, and for Short-Eared Owls, and many others. But perhaps next time I'll go there with someone more experienced in tow.
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