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Friday, May 11, 2012

A slow birding day in May is an event to be dreaded in the birding world.

Everyone I ran into at Rondeau Provincial Park agreed that it was indeed "one of "those days."

Was it the blustery southwest wind? The lack of recent rains? The absence of insects?

Probably all those things.

The Marsh Boardwalk trail was a very long trail that bordered Rondeau Bay.

The first time I tried to take the trail I ran into a walker who staggered out and groaned: "Don't go. It's the worst trail I've ever been on. And it goes on forever."

This time I took my bike, hoping to elude some of the agony. But that guy was right. The trail went on ad infinitum with the same mix of blinding sun, shrubs, Willow Trees, Yellow Warblers and view of Rondeau Bay until my head swam. The return ride was a high-speed gravel-churning act of desperation.

The most notable sighting of the trip was an adorable baby rabbit.

The park interior seemed bereft of birds and everyone walked around with one eyebrow cocked in disgust.

The heavy sweet scent of honeysuckle hung in the air near the maintenance yard.

At least one odd sight lay around the corner.

A Turkey Vulture walked the picnic area lawn. That in itself was strange.

Then it pounced on a ropey piece of garbage …

… that turned out to be a huge snake.

Good grief.

It had spotted lunch from high up in the air then went in for the kill.

I gave it lots of room to enjoy the feast.

Gray Catbirds skulked about in the bushes and called out from overhead with a riot of imitations.

It was already late afternoon but maybe a last-ditch tour on the more popular trails might change my luck.

Wild Columbine dotted the side of the Spicebush Trail.

Sure enough when the sun lowered in the sky, bugs swarmed and birds appeared from out of nowhere.

A hummingbird buzzed by slowly and erratically, exhausted by its journey.

Nashville, Chestnut-sided and Yellow Warblers darted among the foliage.

A Blue Grey Gnatcatcher chased insects.

A female and male Redstart put in an appearance.

Better late than never.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Lake Erie storms were legendary for their suddenness and ferocity.

The lake was shallow and responded dramatically to changes in temperature and wind direction.

That morning the air was shifting rapidly from cold to hot to cold and back again. Seemed like a good time to see if any incoming migrants had been boxed in by the winds at Hawk Cliff.

It was deceptively sunny and cool on Hawk Cliff Road. About 15° C.

Heavy clouds were starting to surround the area and the air pressure plummeted.

There were at least 20 Yellow Warblers dashing in and out of the trees and bushes.

They particularly liked patronizing the flowering shrubs which attacted lots of insects.

In a deeper part of the woods, a Spotted Towhee, a member of the Sparrow family, did reconnaissance over the forest floor.

It wasn't quite as spotted as it should have been. It could have been a hybrid with an Eastern Towhee.

Saw my first Redstart of the year.

Unmistakable vivid colour pattern.

The cheery rapid lilting gurgles of House Wrens lined the road from top to bottom.

One of my favourite birds. I almost never heard them in Guelph where I lived before.

The warm front of the storm approached rapidly.

It had become heavily humid and about 10 degrees warmer. The Bank Swallows flew in frenzied circles at the edge of the precipice, targeting the clouds of insects which had suddenly materialized.

The birds had made Swiss cheese out of the sandy cliff face.

They were amazingly acrobatic and adept at hovering and assessing where their own particular hole was. Their nesting holes could be as long as four or five feet deep.

Winds picked up and a few raindrops blew in from the water.

By the time I got back to my car parked a kilometre down the road, I was soaked. But the camera and binoculars were nice and dry in a bag in my knapsack.

Priorities.

The clouds were spectacular on the way back home.

The Lake Erie shoreline was an amazingly beautiful place.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

The 208-acre Yarmouth Natural Heritage Area was a stone's throw east of Sparta on Sparta Line.

A wide welcoming trail started off as a dirt roadway then turned into a path alongside Catfish Creek, passing a built wetland and a Tallgrass Prairie, eventually winding its way through a Carolinean forest.

The creek burbled away, a cool breeze came through the shady trees, and warblers serenaded continuously in the background.

Surely this is what heaven must be like, I couldn't help thinking.

I followed the trail for a few miles. A coyote crossed the shallow water, balancing its way over a log. Ospreys hung over the side and watched for fish. Bank swallows nested in the sandy edges. A Scarlett Tanager flew through a section of deep woods. Baltimore Orioles, Rose Breasted Grosbeaks, Thrushes, and Chestnut Sided, Yellow Rumped, Yellow, Black Throated Green and Nashville Warblers could be seen around every corner.

Pretty amazing.

Butterflies were thick, clustering on branches.

A Field Sparrow followed for a short distance, hiding in the bushes.

A small shy sparrow with a pink beak. Cutie pie.

The Trilliums were bigger than the palm of a hand.

Clumps of Wild Blue Phlox bloomed in the dappled shade.

A fuzzy curious-looking pipewortish-looking plant poked out of dry rocky ground.

Plantain-leaved Pussytoes or Woman's Tobacco. Liked slightly acidic sandy ground.

There was one worrisome thing. The dirt bike tracks everywhere, despite the "No motorized Vehicle" signs.

What if you met a motorcycle or a quad in one of the many narrow pathways? You would have to step in Poison Ivy or Giant Hogweed to avoid it.

Not a pleasant prospect.

It was a sad fact of life that there were always the selfish ones who didn't care if they ruined it for everyone.

Yarmouth Natural Heritage Area was a new conservation area, built with donations from Ducks Unlimited, the Wild Turkey Federation and other groups.

It was acquired by the Catfish Creek Conservation Authority in early 2000. It took the Authority more than 10 years to clean up two decades of refuse and abandoned appliances deposited in what had become a local dumping ground. After a study, the CCCA planted four acres of tallgrass prairie between the creek and the ponds to encourage butterflies and other tallgrass species such as Wild Turkeys. Pathways and short boardwalks were built.

It surely seems that there are two kinds of human beings: ones who foul and destroy the land, and then the others who clean up the mess left behind and work hard to preserve what beauty is left on planet Earth.

If only our children were taught from a young age how very precious our natural surroundings were. And how easily they were spoiled.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Birds didn't tend to stick around Point Pelee National Park in the afternoons unless it rained in the morning.

But I decided to go anyway. You never knew what you might find.

The sloughs were unnaturally dry. The point was crying out for a good long soaking.

The Woodland trail had very little ponding. Boded badly for birds sticking around.

Baltimore Orioles had started to arrive everywhere in the last few days.

Curious little acrobats.

A small flock of Chipping Sparrows landed at the tip.

We gave each other good long looks then it was back to business.

Him foraging. Me snooping.

Wild Geraniums didn't look very much like their domestic counterparts. But they were still lovely.

Yellow Rumped, Palm, Nashville and Yellow Warblers could be frequently heard.

And seen.

Gorgeous Blackburnian Warblers hovered around the parking lot.

A White Capped Sparrow peered at me from above as I walked the road back to the parking lot.

A Rose Breasted Grosbeak serenaded me in the twilight.

A long day for everyone.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

So many birds, so little time.

The sloughs at Rondeau Provincial Park were cold, water-logged and murky. Full of crawly things, larvae and bugs.

No wonder the place was crammed with birds.

Just about every common warbler species was representing.

Like this Black Throated Green Warbler.

Here's a typical side view.

Fluffed out.

Wildflowers bloomed in full force on the forest flower.

Bellworts had started to peak.

Wood Betony, Pedicularis canadensis, lined the sandy path at the Tulip Tree trail. It is a parasitic plant that interweaves its roots with host plants and absorbs nutrients.

Bees loved it.

The South Point Trail went on for miles it seemed.

And so did the warblers.

Yellow Rumped Warblers like this female of the Myrtle variety popped up everywhere until you were practically sick of their insistent calls.

Although it was not really possible to ever be sick of a bird.

A Ruby Crowned Kinglet was almost as curious as me.

I think they people-watch.

An Indigo Bunting was just too tired to frantically fly away and hide.

Which is what it normally would have done.

A vibrant Rose Breasted Grosbeaks flashed its colours.

Ovenbirds posed for the camera around every corner.

Interesting to compare its breast and facial markings with those of a Wood Thrush.

It's so hard to find these birds in mid-summer when their haunting fluting songs fill the forests.

One of the best things about birding is meeting the birders whose work you've read.

At the Spicebush Trail I bumped into an interesting guy named Allen Woodliffe.

Then I bumped into his bench.

Turned out he was a former ecologist for the Ministry of Natural Resources as well as a Rondeau volunteer and naturalist, tour leader, photographer and all round nice friendly guy. There wasn't a thing he didn't know about the park.

He pointed me to some Barberry bushes where dozens of Red Admiral Butterflies were going nuts.

They mobbed its small yellow blossoms.

A humid warm front settled in the area and the temperature rose 10 degrees.

Perfect butterfly and butterfly-eating weather.

Painted Ladies and Mourning Cloaks fanned out everywhere.

Stepped over them on the paths.

On the way back I noticed a plain little farm on the side of the Talbot Trail.

The McKillop pioneer farm in Port Glasgow was dated 1818.

Duncan McKillop and his wife left Scotland in 1816. After landing in Quebec, they made their way to Port Talbot where three neighbouring families from their home in Argyllshire had settled. The McKillops had been farmers and fishers. With only one cow to support his family, Duncan worked as a hired hand in the winter. His wife found a job that paid one dollar a week. At the end of the winter, the couple managed to save enough money to purchase a second cow. The next season, their fifty-acre lot yielded enough corn, potatoes, and oats to sustain them, but it took several harvests before they got a good supply of wheat.

Their beautiful stone and wrought iron gate told the story of their hard work and family values.

Literally.

An inspiration to all.

Monday, April 30, 2012

Perhaps the days of rain and northeast winds might have taken warblers from east to west along Lake Ontario and on to Lake Erie.

When the rain subsided, I had a couple hours to investigate Springwater Forest east of St. Thomas.

Near the sloughs I heard the first sweet twittering of the season.

A male Yellow Rumped Myrtle Warbler. A sight for sore eyes. A flock of about 15 birds.

A few branches away, another bird darted up from the forest floor.

A Palm Warbler.

How nice when a hunch proved right.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

It was hot and cold, windy and humid all in one day.

At Port Burwell, a Grey Blue Gnatcatcher managed to make it off the lake before blustery northwest winds hit the shore.

One of only a handful of warblers in the park.

The storms and winds of the past week had stalled spring migration.

Thankfully they had also slowed down the leafing out of trees.

Already it was getting hard to see birds.

Winds whipped up farmers fields and blew off topsoil.

No-till farming would really have helped.

The Lake Erie shoreline sure seemed prone to dust, fog and wind. And erosion.

There were always many properties for sale along the roads that edged the lake. People were afraid their homes would slide into the water. A real possibility.

Calton Swamp was frigid and windy but new flowers were in bloom nevertheless.

Like these Foam Flowers.

Braving the unpredictable weather.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Gale-force north winds howled across southern Ontario, over the Great Lakes and down the Allegheny mountains in the U.S. stopping spring migration in its tracks.

In St. Thomas winds roared through the trees and rattled the shingles. Snow and hail spilled down from leaden skies.

Yet it was a wonderful day.

At my new house, the first birds finally visited the backyard feeder.

Including this female Cowbird.

So far Red-winged Blackbirds and Grackles too.

Seeing junk birds had never made me feel so good.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Southwest winds and warm temperatures continued.

First-sighting-of-the-year records were breaking everywhere. Everything was two weeks early.

I gave the day an early start and headed to Rondeau Provincial Park on Lake Erie.

Promised myself I would be back at the office mid-afternoon to tie up the last loose ends at work.

The park was a giant sandspit dotted along its west side with historic cottages.

Its dunes, forests and sloughs sheltered the first bird and insect migrants coming across Lake Erie.

A more relaxed less commercialized version of Point Pelee.

I met up with a couple on the Spicebush Trail complaining there was nothing to see. Too early, they said.

I nodded then when they were out of sight, shook my head. Where were their eyes?

Hundreds, maybe thousands of butterflies had arrived at the park. It was bedazzling.

They rested on tree trunks, drifted along the breeze, and hovered everywhere over the profusion of spring flowers.

Incredible.

Mostly Red Admirals. But also Spring Azure, Eastern Comma, Mourning Cloak, Cabbage, Sulphur and Painted Lady butterflies.

They loved the Cutleaf Toothwort blossoms that covered the forest floor like a soft white carpet.

The Painted Ladies were lovely, their interior and exterior wing patterns so different.

They landed everywhere, including on an outstretched arm.

Snakes roamed around, watching the butterflies with great interest.

Like this Queen Snake, Regina septemvittata, sniffing around with its red tongue.

Gave me quite a look when I stepped on a branch.

Totally harmless though. And so interesting.

Bumped into an Eastern Ribbon Snake, Thamnophis sauritus sauritus.

White Throated Sparrows rustled leaves everywhere and darted under boardwalks. Hiding.

But still peeking.

From the rear they looked totally different.

The forest was quiet and peaceful. The crowds would arrive tomorrow, I knew.

Hermit Thrushes skulked about, dashing off between branches and logs as they loved to do.

Secretive.

A Rusty Blackbird sat alone in the branches.

Its pale yellow eye gave it away.

When I heard a symphony of bird calls all emanating from a single source, I knew what to expect.

Brown Thrashers. A pair.

I matched it whistle for whistle. Cardinal, Blue Jay, Grackle, Goldfinch. The gamut. Then came car alarm and cell phone. I tried to not burst out laughing.

It stuck around trying to figure me out.

The master had been out-mimicked.

A pair of Eastern Phoebes dove for bugs around an old crabapple tree.

When I made my way out, Lakeshore Road was decorated by the odd vibrant patch of blue.

Eastern Bluebirds.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Just like every year, the busiest newspaper season coincided precisely with the onset of spring migration.

Argh. Why was life always so messed up?

After four days straight staring at a computer screen, today I was out the door. Free at last.

Southwest winds had howled over the roof the night before and migrants would be hitching rides.

Port Burwell Provincial Park was the closest and best bet.

As it turned out, I was probably a day early. Not much was happening yet along the beach.

White Capped and White Throated Sparrows scurried in the underbrush, tossing leaves into the air with abandon.

Chipping Sparrows rattled away and explored every nook and cranny for bugs.

Handsome little critters.

A Ruffed Grouse posed on a tree branch then slipped away. Too quick for the camera.

The best find of the day was waiting for me on the fence surrounding the stinky little sewage lagoon just outside the park.

A Northern Rough-winged Swallow. Picking off bugs attracted to the stench.

Stinky is always a good thing in the birding world.

Friday, April 13, 2012

When south winds blew it usually meant birds were on the wing.

I made a seasonal run to Point Pelee to welcome back the early ones.

Enroute, Wheatley Harbour was a good sheltered spot to see a few firsts.

Gulls and terns mobbed incoming fishing boats.

Bonaparte Gulls were so focused on grabbing fish parts off the boats, they headed straight for my camera.

A moulty youngster gave me the old fish eye then veered away.

Got a good close look at their sleek shape.

A Greater Black Backed Gull watched from the side, waiting for dropped leftovers.

As usual, a Great Egret adorned the marsh across from the harbour.

A fixture in the area. And a work of art.

Common Terns descended in flocks at Hillman Marsh.

It was great to see the new signage and the renovations taking place. It was a very popular destination for birders descending on the area in May.

Hopefully all would be in place by peak birding season — only three weeks away.

The first shorebirds picked off larvae and worms in the shallow ponds.

Lesser Yellowlegs always had such a comical look about them.

Bean heads. Male …

… and female alike.

A small flock of Pectoral Sandpipers put on an aerobatics show at the main viewing pond.

Constantly in motion.

There wasn't much to see at Point Pelee yet.

Except for the thousands of ducks dotting the quiet waters west of the point, as far as the eye could see.

The water was so placid. Pelee Island seemed a stone's throw away.

Purple Cress bloomed alongside the pathways at Point Pelee National Park.

Liddle's Fish & Chips in Wheatley provided a great meal of Lake Erie perch on the way home.

Incredible to think that my fish had been swimming in the water less than 24 hours before.

Didn't get any fresher than that.

Address: 2436 Deer Run Road.

Don't forget to say hello to Jody and Caroline.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The bird feeders were installed on the warm backyard deck at the new house in St. Thomas.

Despite all the machinery. Hammering. Sawing. Earthmovers. Trucks backing up. Usually at seven in the morning.

The construction din in neighbourhood was ongoing.

Maybe all the birds wouldn't be fleeing in terror on a daily basis.

Ever optimistic.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Easter Sunday. I was off to Calton Swamp Wildlife Management Area southeast of Aylmer.

Another day of sussing out nearby wildlife areas assessing photo opportunities.

The only car in the parking lot. Ahh.

The wetland was a Ducks Unlimited project with a two kilometre trail surrounding a central pond rimmed with six duck blinds.

The area was littered with shotgun casings, beer cans, cigarette butts and snack bags.

Hunters had left their mark in other ways too.

By shooting up the sign with the hunting rules.

I really wanted to have respect for hunters. But they sure didn't make it easy.

At this time of the year hunting was not permitted and waterfowl returned to the swamp to nest and enjoy being waterfowl a little.

I hid in duck blind Number 5.

Had seats.

The birds were very very skittish. Totally understandable. I was too.

The waterfowl were pretty panic stricken when they saw someone in the blind.

It took hours for them to relax. They kept their distance.

Like this American Wigeon.

And Northern Shovelers.

A Kingfisher chattered away over my head.

I'm sure he knew I was there. Because he always stood with the sun right behind him.

Nobody shoots into the sun.

I could hear the screeches and squeals of Wood Ducks in the background.

They hid in brackish areas in the woods and always saw me before I saw them. Flew off squawking and complaining like I was trying to kill them.

Most people around there probably were.

Finally I was able to get them on camera.

The males were gorgeous.

And they knew it.

I could see it would take quite a few months to get those birds used to my whistle.

Not like the deer and the porcupines in Guelph where I used live. Pretty much ignored me when I whistled and walked by.

Well trained.

In the meantime, the woods were full of spring flowers to enjoy.

A beautiful sweet perfume came up on the breeze now and then.

Seemed to come from the clouds of Cutleaf Toothwort on the forest floor.

Or maybe the Red Trillium.

I met up with a Mennonite family who asked me if there were any wild flowers blooming in the forest.

They had the cutest little blond girl in a pretty old fashioned long dress.

She picked some wildflowers and held them in a bouquet for about five minutes. Posed for the family photo. Then threw the flowers away.

Sigh. So much for old-fashioned values.

Trout lilies were starting to emerge.

Didn't mention those to the Mennonite family.

Or the violets.

Or the Spring Beauties.

I bumped into a massive caterpiller sunning itself on a tree.

A Giant Leopard Moth caterpiller.

A Red Admiral butterfly also enjoyed the warm sunshine.

About fifteen minutes down the road was Port Burwell Provincial Park.

A long trail wound around the park from the beach to the cliff to the camping area.

Did I mention it was a long LONG trail? And no signs to the road. Good thing I had driven the park roads some weeks before.

Or else I'd probably still be there.

One spot provided quite a view of Lake Erie and any incoming raptors.

And a good place to catch your breath. I was totally knackered.

A good time to study plant life.

I loved the shape of the ferns when they emerged from the ground.

Fiddleheads.

The Mayapple were beginning to poke out of the ground and unfurl like umbrellas.

Spring Azure Butterflies tasted the first nectar of the year.

I thought I heard a pine warbler in the branches but when I hunted it down, it was only a Kinglet.

Was she ever annoyed.

Sorry about that.

In the parking lot, a Killdeer tried to distract me away from something.

Must have been a nest somewhere. I stepped carefully.

Just to make sure I got the point, the pair put on a little show before I left.

Not the slightest bit of shame.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

After meeting up with contractors at the cottage, there were a few hours left to check out the environs.

Herring, Ring Billed, Glaucous and Greater Black Backed gulls at the beach.

Mostly juveniles.

A lone Sandhill Crane at L Lake.

Stuck out like a sore thumb.

Did a nice job preening feathers and scratching away with those long toes.

Mites already.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

The day was chilly and damp but it was the only chance for birding I would have for some time.

The newspaper and the cottage were leaving little time for enjoying what life had to offer.

I took the Talbot Trail — Highway 3 — to Rondeau Provincial Park, less than an hour away.

An abandoned house near Palmyra scared the bejesus out of me.

Kept looking for spirits to float out the windows.

Buying my annual Ontario Provincial Park Summer Pass was the highlight of the day.

$107.50. Not cheap. But an excellent investment.

Already I could picture all the provincial parks I would visit the rest of the year.

The beach near the Visitor's Centre was deserted.

Except for a juvenile Bald Eagle watching the odd car drive by.

Took off when it saw me gawking.

Quite a beak on that critter.

And gorgeous wings.

It was still too early for songbirds. But there was lots of action off the beach.

Buffleheads streamed by about a kilometre offshore.

On the way home, a traffic fatality lay crumpled and forlorn at the side of the road.

Poor Wild Turkey.

Sometimes they took their time when they crossed the road.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The first wildflowers emerged weeks early in Springwater Forest east of St. Thomas.

It was 24° C. Amazingly warm for this time of the year. Weather records were breaking right across Canada.

Round-lobed Hepatica burst into bloom on the sun-warmed shoulders of the trail.

The first of our beautiful native flowers.

Eastern Comma Butterflies danced in the air and rested on the ground.

They liked to come back to the same spot.

Thank goodness. It was almost impossible to get them on camera.

A hairy sort of grass also bloomed in some sunny spots.

Pennsylvania Sedge or Carex pensylvanica.

The forest floor rustled with the sound of moving stems and expanding shoots.

I wondered how old this Fire Moss colony was.

Covered with emerging sporophytes.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Celebrated the first day of spring with the Woodcocks on Hawk Cliff Road, doing their crazy whistling chirping spiralling mating dance at sunset.