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Thursday, December 16, 2010

The flu from hell is now the disgusting cough from hell.

Working under deadlines sure don't help. Oh joy. What new horrors lurk around the corner?

A welcome little surprise showed up at my window feeder today.

A Redpoll.

Didn't stay for long.

The neighbourhood terrorist was being a pest.

Darn Cooper's Hawk.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

My cold has morphed into the flu from hell.

Fittingly, outdoors was another sort of hell. Windchill -21, blowing snow squalls. Highways closed, drivers stranded.

A couple of starlings huddled from the winds and kept me company on the other side of the window.

Colourful, noisy and cheerful.

Welcome visitors.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

It's pretty hard to work hard when you've got a bad cold.

Thankfully, the weather was overcast and mild which made it a bit easier to get around doing last minute assignments.

But not for birds of prey. The calm had sidelined them.

I spotted a gorgeous big Red-tailed Hawk just outside Paris.

Trying to look inconspicuous.

Impossible.

She took off when I got in for a closer look.

Wowing me with all her beautiful feathers.

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Christmas shopping season is brutal for those in the media business.

Double the work. Half the time. Half the profits.

Plus the beginning of the winter storm season.

It's never a happy time of the year.

The only solace: when snow falls, birds flock to feeders in droves.

Like dozens of Goldfinches did today.

An amazing sight.

Just about everybody showed up during the flurries.

Madam Downey in the back yard —

Monsieur Downey in the side yard —

Equal opportunists.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

It was pretty blustery outside. Bad weather usually brings a lot of birds into the feeders.

They must know that hawks can't fly very well in storms.

The pigeons all wanted to get into the little sunflower seed feeder at once.

No matter how hard they try, pigeons just can't be serious.

Goofy.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Pat spent the week on the Mayan Peninsula in Mexico.

She found all our feathered friends over there. Warblers, shorebirds, herons, hummingbirds. And lots more.

I asked her to say hi for me.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Winter still hasn't officially arrived, but the chilly breeze and light dusting of snow is giving a preview of what's to come.

My morning Blue Jay was quick to grab breakfast before the hawk showed up.

I loved the different shades of blue.

Easy on the eyes.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Part two

It was a disappointment to tour Long Point and see all the hunters killing the beautiful ducks for sport. Their shotgun blasts sounded like firecrackers, resonating in the hush of dusk.

It's hard to comprehend how humans can murder other living animals for entertainment.

Even for the sake of food, it is surely heart-wrenching to take the life of another creature.

Pat and I hurried out of the park with heavy hearts.

Above our heads, a string of pearls unraveled across the darkening sky.

Hundreds of Tundra Swans, fleeing the marshes and the horror of the guns.

When we turned west on Lakeshore Road, the setting sun was low in the sky.

Then suddenly it was like someone flipped a switch. The sky filled with flocks and flocks of ducks, geese and swans.

The car screeched to a halt. Look, Pat said.

A family of Sandhill Cranes gleaned supper from a cornfield.

Nearby, a couple hundred Tundra Swans did the same thing.

I loved their fat paddle-shaped black feet.

The longer we sat, the better it got. More and more cranes from every direction. Cackling and rattling and twittering away to each other.

Their awkward yet graceful shapes were delightful.

And the landings? Slow motion ballet.

At 10 or so metres off the ground the show really began.

A fair amount of bulk needed to be attended to during the landing procedure.

The big birds zeroed in for their landings. Thrusters in reverse, deceleration in progress …

Landing gear down, full throttle back, toes pointed …

Touch down successful.

Awesome.

Their lush plumage and soft colours took our breath away. And when they all left the field together to spend the night at their roosting grounds, my eyes grew moist.

I missed them already.

The last image in my mind as we left Long Point was one of profound beauty.

To think that we have such magnificent creatures on planet Earth. And that Pat and I were able to witness them in all their glory.

It was one of the most amazing experiences I had ever had.

Pat and I had a delicious prime rib supper at Niko's restaurant in Tillsonburg. The service was impeccable.

The day had been a wonderful gift for both of us.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Part one

We were celebrating Pat's birthday but as it was, we were both in for a treat.

Whatever you want to do, I said, I'm in. It's your day.

There had been reports of a Spotted Towhee near Long Point, Pat said. Maybe we could catch some late migrators at the same time.

Long Point has a habit of capturing huge flocks of waterfowl during the spring and fall migrations.

Unfortunately, the Point still allowed waterfowl hunting in the fall. But we couldn't complain too much.

It was thanks to a group of hunters that Long Point was preserved in the first place 100 years ago.

We would just have to be careful and familiarize ourselves with hunting zones, times and regulations.

Our safety depended on it.

In the meantime, it would be an adventure finding George Finney's yard on Highway 59 where the Spotted Towhee had last been seen lurking about.

It was sunny and mild, but soon enough we were feeling the driving winds blowing on and off Lake Erie. No wonder migrators favoured the area.

It was a lovely drive through Tillsonburg as we zig-zagged through prime historic United Empire Loyalist territory.

A fascinating old house on Lakeshore Road caught our eye.

It was a board-and-batten Gothic Revival home from about 1825, likely built from some of the very oaks that covered the area at one time.

It must have been much loved.

Like this bird's nest inside the old abandoned bedroom.

Our first stop was the Big Creek National Wildlife area, almost inaccessible from overgrowth.

The multitudes of Tree Sparrows were just as curious about us as we were about them.

There was lots of food material around, that's for sure.

I loved these desicated wild cucumbers.

And these seed heads.

Exterior decorating.

George Finney happened to be President of Bird Studies Canada which had its offices at Long Point. It was an honour to not only have him be our finder that day, but to be a welcome guest at his lovely property.

Our timing was perfect.

It must have been my lucky Long Point Bird Observatory hat.

No sooner did we step onto George Finney's driveway when he directed us to his backyard.

"He's under the cedars," he said. "Just around the corner."

He was. What a beauty.

Other birders had waited around for hours with no luck at all.

Pat was happy to spend much of the afternoon watching all the birds.

It was so nice to see friends that we had already said goodbye to in Guelph: Red winged Blackbirds, Grackles, White-throated Sparrows, Brown-headed Cowbirds.

Sigh.

Some winter days, George said, he saw up to 25 species of birds.

All we could do was gasp in envy.

But it wasn't hard to see why. It was an ideal situation at the side of an old established wetland in largely undisturbed acreage right on the Long Point flyway.

Just to top things off, another rarity decided to make an appearance.

A female towhee with no spots — an Eastern. Gorgeous.

Soon it was time to go and we waved George's backyard a fond farewell.

Little did we know the trip back home would amaze us even more.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

My brushes seem to have a life of their own some times.

With a few precious unscheduled days, I set off to complete a sketch from 2009.

It was a view of Georgian Bay from Killbear Provincial Park. Glaciation had tilted and exposed the beautifully-coloured layers of bedrock. Striae, as my friend Carol Brown put it.

One particular spruce tree had caught my eye.

I wanted to paint it just the way I saw it.

The colours seemed to roll all by themselves across the canvas.

So much fun to paint.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Yay.

A pair of Pine Siskins returned to the yard this year from the Far North.

I adore Pine Siskins. They are bright and chattery, and practically fearless around humans.

Welcome companions for those cold winter days.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Some quacky divey ducks zipped around the South Creek pond this afternoon.

At first I thought they were Mallards, but no, they were smaller and had honking big spoonish beaks.

Here's a comparison — the Mallard is far right.

Northern Shovelers, a pair.

Gosh it's hard to get good photos of waterbirds … they're always so far away.

There's a digiscope apparatus in my office that's been collecting dust for a month. This week I'll put it together.

Promise.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Sometimes you paint just for yourself, to feel the bristles pick up the paint and spread across the canvas.

For a long time, I'd been thinking about a sketch of light hitting the trees at the back of the Lake of Two Rivers in Algonquin.

Perfect for indulging an insatiable need to blend, mix and contrast colour.

It was so satisfying to see how a fabulous Old Holland King's Blue Deep I picked up worked with the fall colours.

So rich, you could put it on a plate and eat it.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Yesterday I was on assignment taking photos for the newspaper. It was one of the nicest Remembrance Days I could remember.

Placid blue skies, mild temperatures, the sun beaming down on the crowds around the Cenotaph.

The community had come together over war and sorrow. Tragic. But eternal.

In the forest, there is never anger and strife. Just living day to day.

That's hard enough.

In sunny spots, there were still butterflies tickling the breeze.

Skippers.

On the ground, lots of travellers.

Woolly Bear Caterpillers. Eventually they become yellow Tiger Moths.

It was amazing the number of birds out and about enjoying the sunshine.

A Kingfisher at the South Creek Pond. A Great Blue Heron at the new industrial park stormwater pond.

Chickadees, Golden-Crowned Kinglets, White and Red-breasted Nuthatches, and woodpeckers of all sorts.

Like this Hairy Woodpecker roaming from tree to tree, hammering away.

Dozens of Robins look like they intend to overwinter in the forest.

They madly competed for these Dogwood berries. A great show of acrobatics.

Hard to believe that snow will be coming soon.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

It sure is quiet outside with a hawk and the odd cat scaring everyone away.

One thing I can count on though.

Every morning when the sun starts warming the yard, a family of Blue Jays will show up for breakfast.

They go nuts at the peanut feeder.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

The Grand Bend sewage lagoons were far away. But on a beautiful sunny day they were a good excuse to be outdoors and check out any lagging migrants.

In the fall, sewage lagoons are often the last sources of open water. They offer protection from hunters and predators, and provide food for many types of waterbirds before winter freeze-up.

Sure enough hundreds of ducks and a smattering of shorebirds roamed the cells.

A frigid northwest wind whipped the grasses.

A tiny peeping noise came from some low bushes. A Yellow Rumped Warbler slowly hopped over the ground and through the grass about a foot away from my shoe.

I knew he didn't have much time left in this world. When he looked up at me, it broke my heart.

Nature is cruel when you don't meet your fall migrating schedule.

Numerous flocks of ducks flew overhead and landed in the various cells. With a scope I could identify Long-tailed ducks, American Coots, Ring-necked ducks, Redheads, Canvasbacks, Pied-billed Grebes, Green-winged Teal, Buffleheads, Golden-eyes … the list went on and on.

They took to the skies frequently and were all pretty nervous — shellshocked by hunting season I presumed — but a Hudsonian Godwit completely ignored me.

These Dunlins in winter plumage were also pretty laid back.

The skies were filled with ducks moving from cell to cell or from the shelter of Grand Bend harbour, about a mile away.

The only thing that marred the day was an endlessly circling small airpline, ceaselessly droning before dropping off a couple of parachutists.

It was a mystery to me how the quiet rural residents tolerated this rude intrusion.

Before I packed up my gear for the long drive home, an American Tree Sparrow said goodbye from the branches.

Probably didn't often get many quiet friendly visitors around there.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

My wonky hip was getting in the way of home maintenance this year.

Pat's son's girlfriend Melissa, a professional landscaper, winterized the garden.

A cheerful hard worker. And did a great job.

Did she ever come in handy.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

I started to feel my age this fall. Hip pain has kept me away from the running trails for weeks. Doctor's orders.

New orthotics. New running shoes. New elliptical machine for impact-free indoor workouts.

New Visa bill.

Darn depressing.

I still visited the forest. Couldn't miss those long meditative walks in the trees. Small comforts.

My merlin didn't mind so much me eyeballing him.

He's come to know my whistle.

Or maybe he's used to my rude behaviour.

A single-minded fierce tapping on a beech tree signalled some frantic cold-weather preparation.

Chips flying in all directions.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Checked out a nice place for sale in Port Franks, one of my favourite hamlets on Lake Huron.

I'm still hoping that some day I'll be able to call that part of the world my home.

It was one of those dark rainy depressing fall days.

The skies were forbidding outside Parkhill.

But they made great subject matter for some future paintings.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

I'm pretty lucky with my commute to work.

On the way to St. George, the views are like postcards.

These sheep gawked right back at me.

Farm animals are endlessly fascinating, although I don't want to get too attached.

I know where they end up.

Sigh.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

It was a cold rainy windy thorougly miserable day.

But I was grateful for one thing.

At least it hadn't snowed like it did for my friend Carol in Regina, Saskatchewan.

In keeping with the theme of horror and Halloween, I spied a few creepy-looking residents in the forest.

A football-sized neon white fungus.

And its little cousin.

Not to mention some young puffball buds.

Apparently they are delicious when peeled, browned and served with eggs.

I think I'll pass for now.

There was no shortage of weird slimy moulds, fungi and mushrooms.

Birds seemed to be few and far between, with some notable exceptions.

I was thrilled to spot a startled owl hastily dodging the underhanging branches of some pines and silently flapping away into the forest.

About the size of a Barred Owl.

Much to my surprise, a Great Blue Heron rose from a stream and cleared the treetops. It seems they're always among the last to depart.

The forest was mostly muted and grey. Almost all the leaves had been tossed to the ground in the fierce winds of the past few days.

Except for the Tamarack.

Soon those needles too will fall away.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Somebody on the window ledge was watching me fill up the birdfeeders this morning.

A female Orb Weaver spider. Also known as a Garden Spider or araneus diadematus.

Waiting for a mate to show up.

Look out.

Last week I spotted this other great spider on an aster.

A Green Lynx mesh web spider.

Beautiful and delicate. But fierce.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Another painting got finished.

The scene is from last year.

I was on my way to do some birding at Long Point when I came across a view of a ramshackle farm south of Canfield.

Ramshackle farms always make such good paintings.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Pat dragged me away from my pile of work. Let's check out the birds at Col. Sam Smith Park in Toronto, she said.

I was nursing a sports injury in my hip. But I still went.

It might be the last sunny warm day of the fall.

No one wanted to miss that.

The park is right at the Etobicoke waterfront, a staging area for migrating creatures before they follow the coastline west to shorter crossing points across Lake Ontario.

Look up, Pat said. High in the sky. A kettle of raptors.

They might end up crossing near Grimsby or Niagara. It was awe-inspiring to see so many of them cooperating as a group.

Col. Sam Smith Park at the foot of Kipling Road is a great urban waterfront naturalized area. Lots of people and their sociable dogs were out enjoying the day.

Great vistas.

You can tell the wildlife gets fed frequently.

Do ya think?

Everywhere you went, the park was simply infested with Kinglets.

Golden Crowned Kinglets. And Ruby Crowned Kinglets like this one, right by the water's edge.

They could easily be observed within a metre or two of where we were standing. It was great. Usually they are hidden in the canopy somewhere.

I couldn't get over the Kinglet acrobatics.

Adorable little scamps.

A late season Yellow Rumped Warbler still hung around the willows, picking off bugs and buds.

It was amazing to see the huge numbers of insects still providing meals for hungry songbirds.

This Eastern Wood Pewee caught a lunch of juicy Ruby Meadowhawk dragonfly. They were flitting around everywhere.

An elusive Hermit Thrush splashed around at the edge of a little stream.

He preferred shady quiet places out of the public view.

Like all of us.

A handsome Gadwall swam around in the pond with his mate, competing with the bigger Mallards.

The black rump is a distinguishing feature.

Check this out, Pat said. A mink.

A bit scruffy looking. He stared right back at us, then just like that he slipped away in the rocks.

Cool.

It had been such a nice day, especially considering we were in the heart of the big city.

Great birding can be found just about anywhere it seems.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The fall has been glorious here in Southern Ontario. Gorgeous colours everywhere and warm sunny days right out of summer.

The leaves are still hanging on.

Some of my favourite trees are at the Somerset Glen trails.

Grackles and Red-winged blackbirds are still coming daily to the feeder, in big noisy flocks. But I have a feeling they'll be going soon.

Someone was still feasting on grasshoppers in the field.

He popped up for just a second.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Carnage in the side yard. Three piles of feathers.

More feathers in the back yard.

The culprit? Casual about his murderous rampage.

A Cooper's Hawk has decided to call my yard his home for the winter. Again.

Sigh.

I had noticed that a sparrow with a broken leg had been visiting the backyard feeder.

Hello piercing razor-sharp nails.

Bye bye cute little limping sparrow.

This hawk looked quite similar to last year's bird, but who can really tell?

One big difference though — he's wearing an ankle bracelet this year.

Must have been a tricky procedure.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The province had put a squeeze on my precious fall vacation time this year.

Because there were municipal elections scheduled in October, things were too busy at work to take much time off.

Nevertheless, I managed to sneak away for a few days to Algonquin Park.

The first day and a half were solid work finding and recording material for future paintings.

It was just past peak colours but nevertheless, gorgeous scenery was still to be found.

It was summer-like weather — sunny, clear blue sky, windless — not a typical fall in Algonquin Park. It made for washed out colours, balmy temperatures and a lot of jackets left in the car.

And tons of chattering bus-filled sun-worshipping rubbernecking leafers. Everywhere. At all times.

Curses.

I drove right out of the park to get away for an hour or two and much to my delight, I found what I was looking for.

A lovely threatening incoming storm near Combermere.

Pure gold.

On the way back through the park, I took a sideroad and glimpsed a chicken-like bird strolling across Arowhon Road like he owned the place.

Actually, he did.

Adorably dotty Spruce Grouse.

Some distance away, a curious thing happened when I walked down the road and bent over to get my camera out of my knapsack.

I straightened up to discover a lovely Blue-Jay like bird staring me in the face.

A Gray Jay.

Friendly little dickens.

Wasn't hard to take that picture.

It was grueling work for 36 hours straight with breaks only for sleep, food and basic maintenance. Processing the hundreds of images took me into the wee hours of the night.

The one blessing was the fantastic delicious meals served in the dining room of the inn where I stayed in Oxtongue Lake.

Thanks Algonquin Lakeside Inn. You kept me going.

I reserved the last day after checkout for just having a fun day. Gary from the Inn told me to check out the trail behind Mizzy Lake.

I did.

It was pure pleasure to stroll down the wide sandy abandoned railway bed without any pressure, checking out the sights.

The trail cut through a gamut of habitats: forest, bog, pond, lake, meadow.

Every bit of it gorgeous.

Waterlilies still floated on the ponds.

The swampy vistas were dotted with bobbing seed heads of wildflowers.

Like this Pearly Everlasting.

These great seed heads blanketed bushes along the side of the trail.

Virgin's Bower. Also known as wild Clematis.

A definite resemblance to my own Clematis back home.

The last groups of insects were still providing snacks for busy warblers and dragonflies on their way south.

A spruce tree in the sun was a handy resting spot for a Variable Darner.

Prickly. And great camouflage.

In the summer, the bogs and meadows are filled with sweeping orange swaths of Hawkweed.

A few plants still bloomed on the sides of the path.

It wasn't hard to imagine how lovely that must be.

Side trails meandered through forests with their magnificent towering old growth trees, covered with fascinating mosses and lichens.

There are sights you never see when you live in the southern developed part of the province.

Speaking of hidden gems, on the way back to the car a funny awkward fluttering in some tamaracks sent my nature sensors into high alert.

I inched up with my camera.

Another Spruce Grouse.

She didn't seem to care much. Kept on munching away. Then had a little nap.

That wasn't the only bird which was pretty relaxed around humans.

At breakfast, I had snuck two little containers of peanut butter into my pocket.

They sure came in handy.

Those Gray Jays had quite a system going. They would patrol the sunny part of the walkway, zooming in whenever they saw a human.

And if you knelt on the ground and rummaged around in a knapsack, well bingo.

They stuck around for treats.

Geesh. After a while I was afraid to rearrange my equipment. It would set them all off on a reconnaissance frenzy.

Truthfully, who didn't love it?

I couldn't get enough of those Gray Jays.

It was a three-hour drive straight home after that, but all I could think about were those cold little sharp-clawed feet on the side of my hand.

Every journey has its rewards.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

White-crowned sparrows are passing through.

This one sat on a bush two feet away from my head. It cheaped at me while I filled up the birdfeeder.

Then gobbled away.

You're welcome.

Juncos arrived today. The first harbinger of cold weather to come.

A lovely couple across the street bought two of my paintings.

Peony Study. A memory of all the peony varieties in my spring garden.

And my Echinacea flowers. The only year the deer didn't eat them.

Loved the silver frames.

Two more babies went out into the world. To a great home.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

It was so quiet and mild outdoors. Just could not resist spending another day in the forest.

It was a minefield of birds.

A pair of Pied Billed Grebes were dunking and diving on the Southcreek Pond.

Soft chirps and chimes came from the undergrowth. Rustling and scratching noises.

As soon as I approached, a flock of White-throated Sparrows exploded from the bushes.

This pair sat still, certain of their camouflage.

The female let out a chirp. Just couldn't help herself.

Pressed up perfectly still against a tree trunk was this strange-looking woodpeckerish creature.

A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. A new bird for my life list.

The Yellow Rumped Warblers played hide and seek with me in the forest again, but this time I was on to them.

No photos this time boys and girls.

On the way home, a strange fluttering in the field. Like a skinny long sluggish grasshopper.

A Praying Mantis.

Fall had officially arrived.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

First I broke my computer. Accidentally dropped it on the ground.

Had to rush out and buy another one. Then load up all the software.

Finish laying out the newspaper. Print it. Deliver it.

Then recover.

Then I got the flu. Of course.

It didn't kill me but it sure dragged on.

The first chance I got, I popped out to the forest to see what I had missed.

A flock of Golden Crowned Kinglets hung out with some Chickadees in the pine trees and conifers, flitting and flying and peeping ever so softly.

The warblers were still coming through. Thank goodness.

A gorgeous mottled stripey black throated green. Nashvilles. A Yellow.

Tons of Yellow Rumped in every variation.

This guy loved showing off for the camera.

Why not? He was so beautiful.

And so was his lovely mate.

A Brown Creeper sent out raspy little tweets. Not the electronic kind.

That little guy could not be still for one second.

Finding food to fuel migration is an all-consuming thing.

Friday, September 24, 2010

A House Finch has decided to step up to the Nyjer feeder.

Experts say there won't be many Pine Siskins this winter. But there will be an irruption of finches and Redpolls.

Something to look forward to.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Pressure pressure pressure. How do you escape?

Easy. Just run away.

The days are so short and migration so far advanced, it's getting hard to find creatures in the Hanlon forest.

The sun dropped to the horizon as these deer munched on juicy weeds.

Protected by a fence.

A few birds caught insects in the last shafts of sunlight.

Like this Eastern Pewee.

Lots of Cedar Waxwings flitted in the treetops. And a Yellow Rumped Warbler.

Hard to decipher among the leaves. But twitchy, like all warblers.

Finally was able to capture what was becoming a familiar sight the last few weeks.

Peristent but wary.

A Merlin.

Took off like a fighter aircraft.

An avian F-18.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

It was awfully quiet this morning in the yard.

Deathly quiet, in fact.

Avicide.

A Cooper's Hawk was lurking about.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

There was report of a Long-tailed Jaeger in front of Hutch's Restaurant at Van Wagner's Beach in Hamilton.

I was in such a hurry to get out the door, I forgot what day it was.

Saturday.

When I got to the beach, I didn't see the Jaeger.

But I did encounter two weddings, 14 stone-skippers, two screaming toddlers, three Sea-doos, two kayakers, four barking dogs and a whole wack of gulls flying around panicked.

And a big cloud of lardy french-fry smoke.

Sigh.

I had broken my cardinal rule: never go birding when it's busy.

In the meantime, a little group of juvenile Ring-billed Gulls got into a brawl over parking rights.

City birds.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Deadlines deadlines.

I ran away and met up with my new little buddy on the back stoop.

I wanted her to pose for a photo but when the shutter went off it freaked her right out.

She tore off in a panic.

But came back. Juicy fresh sunflower seeds can be a strong motivator.

After a few more dry runs, Baby was shrugging it all off as just another human thing.

Kooky and a bit annoying.

But ultimately not the end of the world.

Especially when a free lunch was involved.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

S.O.A.R. (Songbirds Only Avian Rehabilitation) in Rockwood had its open house today.

About 25 guests attended while Judi Drake, S.O.A.R.'s tireless chief bird rehabilitator, hosted and raffled off a table full of goodies to raise money.

About $500 was raised for supplies and medicine for our injured feathered friends.

Friday, September 10, 2010

A cool drizzly day. Summer left last week and slammed the door behind her.

The clematis bloomed again. Along with strange little flowers that came from the root stock.

Lovely in their own way.

From behind the mounds of parsley, the garden provided a little bonus for me this year.

Secretly growing basil.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The tailwinds of the mid-Atlantic hurricane season were still whipping things up in Guelph.

Played havoc with fall warbler migration.

I threw work to one side and rushed out in the inclement weather hoping to catch a bit of the excitement here in my own neighbourhood.

In the forest, tiny "peep" and "wheep" sounds were almost drowned out by the roar of gusty winds and rain whipping through the branches.

You had to listen and look carefully. And try and ignore cold wet feet, heavy cameras and rain-spattered glasses.

All that discomfort paid off when I headed for the chickadees. They act like beacons for their buddies the warblers.

Not sure why they like to hang around together during the spring and fall migrations. Same size? Same foods? A friendly face?

Maybe. In the other part of the forest a Sharp-shinned Hawk pursued a flock of Cedar Waxwings. It sure seemed that wherever songbirds flocked, hungry birds of prey were sure to follow.

Hordes of tiny yellowish three-inch birds flitted all about the canopy.

Yellow warblers. Yellow-rumped warblers. Nashville warblers. Flashy tail-spotted tail-fanning Redstarts.

Identifiable even from their bottoms.

Which much of the time was all you ever got to see, in between rain downpours.

Those darn frustrating darty warblers.

Nobody said birdwatching was easy.

A Black-throated Blue Warbler was the only one who wanted to cooperate for my camera.

Sat still for about 10 seconds.

Bless him.

Monday, September 6, 2010

It was a day with nothing that needed doing. Glorious.

After a year-long drought, I picked up the paint brush again.

Oh it felt good.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

There's no better way to celebrate Labour Day weekend than with a labour of love.

Pat and I went to Brighton to check out the busy fall migration.

Hurricane Earl was still whipping things up with lightning, rain, storms, and wind.

Ominous clouds scurried across the sky at the Brighton sewage lagoons.

There were lots of creatures doing their thing despite the weather.

Mute Swans, a Red-shouldered Hawk, green and blue-winged teal, disappearing moorhens, perky little maddening Swamp Wrens that liked to dart just out of view.

After a snack of bullrushes, a muskrat gave himself a face wash.

The wildflowers glowed after a midafternoon rain. Like this Swamp Smartweed.

We ordered lunch in Brighton where they totally forgot to serve our meal. Then half an hour later, finally remembered.

There was an extra free slice of carrot cake in that.

Came in handy for dinner.

We must have seen about half the bird book at Presqu'ile.

Black and white, Palm, Nashville, Yellow-rumped, Magnolia, Yellow, Cape May, and Wilson's warblers along with Redstarts and a Yellowthroat.

There were fabulous views of a hungry Black-throated Blue warbler at the marsh boardwalk parking lot.

Thanks for posing.

Up at Lighthouse Point, an impatient young Red-eyed Vireo squeaked until food from Mom arrived.

The last swallows of the year dove above the trees for a final snack before crossing the lake.

Bonaparte's Gulls fattened up too in the surf.

In between cloudbursts, nature entertained us with a show of special effects.

Peeps, gulls and Canada geese valiantly hung onto the beach at Owen Point. At the Calf Pasture, there were Green, Blue and Black-crowned Night Herons and their youngsters.

Look at the monster gull, I pointed out to Pat. Maybe eating too much fish.

Well. Turned out it was a Pomerine Jaeger. Met our goal of adding to our life list.

Learned something too.

Monster gulls do not exist.

Hurricanes sure are nasty when it comes to the weather.

But they make for some nice sunsets.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Hurricane Earl hit North America's eastern seabord today. Guelph was not unscathed.

Everything blew sideways and the rain whipped out of the clouds.

The birdfeeders swung wildly except for the niger feeder sheltered by the back fence.

When I reached out to refill the feeder I was surprised to see one little fluffball was still parked, munching away.

Hanging on for dear life in the storm. Why let go now?

Mom chirped anxiously from not too far away.

Okay. I'll come back in an hour or two.

Silly.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010