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Saturday, June 20, 2010

The humidity was almost unbearable and it was yet another weekend of working under the gun. Oh the joys of being in the newspaper industry.

At the end of the day I had had enough of reading small print, perspiring and brain drain. Time to visit the forest.

I was hoping to find the little fawn to check on her progress. Momma kept her well hidden and away from everybody. But I knew their habits.

By the time I came back with my camera, Momma had taken her fawn into the forest at a slow but steady walk. I caught a few glimpses of the little one.

Down the path at Preservation Park, the deer were much less shy. At the end of the day they eat grass by the path with hardly a second glance at all the gawkers.

Most of us stop on the path when the deer want to cross. Hate to panic them. The road isn't far away.

The milkweed is just starting to flower.

Doesn't last long in the park. The deer love it.

The anemones were scattered in the grass like a carpet of white.

There were lots of little peeping noises and soft tweets in the air above my head. The cedar waxwings were playing flycatcher and going after the bugs and moths.

They stick together in flocks and don't sit still for too long.

Further down the path I had my eyes peeled for a shy curious bird with a noisy call and a regular habit at dusk.

A grey catbird loved to catch bugs settling on the warm asphalt section of the walking path. Saw him there just about every time I went for a walk, usually just standing smack in the middle of the path waiting for some dinner.

Yup. Right out in the open on the fence rail. Not skulking around in the bushes like usual, pretending to be some other bird.

A big juicy bug before bed trumps everything.

IDoesn't

Monday, June 14, 2010

With rain threatening, hardly anyone dared to walk the forest tonight.

Perfect time for a run. The paths and boardwalks were empty.

Tree frogs filled the air with not just a chorus but a symphony.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

It was a heavily overcast slightly drizzly day. The kind that incubated frenzied clouds of mosquitoes that never cease their tormenting.

Pat and I birded Curry's Tract north of Milton. It was the afternoon and pretty dark but there were tons of birds around.

On the way down a rough-legged hawk got chased down by some really angry finches on Darkwoods Road.

I just liked the name of the road.

At the tract, we called and pished the forest birds to come closer. I got into a whistling contest with a throaty wood thrush. He matched me call for call and then some. But just would not come out and show himself.

We saw a Yellow Warbler, Baltimore Orioles feeding young at their sock nest, and lots of Redstarts.

They love posing for the camera.

This Baltimore Oriole was trying so hard to get a big fat bug into the mouth of his nestling but we kept on annoying him.

Not for long though. All those insane mosquitoes kept us moving.

Pat heard a buzzing noise. It's a Blue Winged Warbler, she said. Threatened species. There it is.

I managed to catch the briefest look before it flew off.

Not much blue on the wing if you ask me.

The vetch was just starting to bloom and fill the fields and countryside.

Plenty of berries around too. Serviceberry, strawberries and wild gooseberries for the birds to eat.

There's been quite a bit of rain lately. Raspberries seem to be a couple of weeks ahead of schedule.

This pretty Field Crescentspot Butterfly hung around in the shade and rested its wings.

White Campion was in full force everywhere.

It was pretty much raining birds all day long. Chestnut Sided Warblers, Eastern Towhee, Rosebreasted Grosbeak, Pewee, Catbirds, Downy Woodpecker, Pileated Woodpecker, Eastern Kingbird, Wild Turkey, Northern Flicker, Indigo Bunting, Veery, Song Sparrows, Wrens, you name it.

And this Great Crested Flycatcher.

I saw a pair of Black Billed Cuckoos, a lifer for me. Impressively large, striped tail, curved beak, making a tocking sound. Something like cu-cu-cu-cu.

Tried so hard to get a photo but it just wasn't to be. It was almost impossible to keep your finger on the shutter release, the mosquitoes were that fierce.

Before we both went totally nuts, we went back to the car. I had lumps all over my face, neck and hands. Even the palms of my hands. Pat was drenched in bug repellent from head to toe. She even sprayed her clothes.

Pat said there was virtually a cloud of mosquitoes following in my wake the whole time we were there.

They sure know who to pick on.

We celebrated my birthday early at the Fat Duck in Guelph with a great dinner. You never get a bad meal there.

Quite made up for my throbbing swollen itchy hands and face.

Friday, June 11, 2010

It's surprising what you bump into when you're photographing in the woods.

The rains of the last few days had brought out pipeworts. They seemed to have come out of nowhere on their awkward slender stems.

A passing girl, hiking the path with a knapsack, started up a conversation about her adventures in the woods when she was growing up in Eastern Ontario.

Shooting deer in the woods, trapping raccoons and tossing them into a ring with dogs, stealing baby animals from their mothers and bringing them up indoors.

"Sure caused a stir at the bar when I showed up with my pet raccoon," she giggled. "The crowd just parted when it ran across the floor to wash its corn puff in the toilet."

"Scared the bejesus out of the Jehovah Witnesses when it ran into their car and wouldn't come out."

"Man did our Jack Russell terrier ever like to rip those things apart."

"And don't let me tell you what we did to turtles when we were kids," she said.

If there was some way I could, I thought, believe me I really really would.

"Firecrackers. Stuck them in their shells. Then threw them into the air."

But why, I said. Why were you so cruel?

"Aw we were just kids. Besides they ate the ducks. The snapping turtles."

What about the raccoons? Didn't they deserve to live without being tortured?

"Naw. They were always into my uncle's corn. Let me tell you about my uncle and the baby calves on the way to market."

No, I don't think so, I said. By the way, what did she do for a living? Supervise the overtime shift at a slaughterhouse maybe? I so wanted wanted to say. Bull testicle remover? Chicken head remover? Fish eye gouger-outer?

No, agriculture. Inspection.

Inspection at the Agricultural House of Horrors no doubt. Never mind, I thought, I surely didn't want to know the details.

That was good, I said, because the animals lovers society around here would probably report you to the authorities. Or maybe just string you up, I said. After all, this is Guelph. The birthplace of the animal lovers society.

She just laughed.

She wouldn't tell me her name in any case. Just as well.

I nick-named her Carla-Homolka's-twin-sister-separated-at-birth.

Then I wished her a good day and went home and took a bath.

The forest sure can be fun.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

There hadn't been many turtles hanging around the ponds this year.

It seemed all the dogwalkers took particular joy in setting their dogs loose in Turtle Pond beside the industrial subdivision. Dogs have precedence over turtle habitat around here. Dogs have precedence over just about every kind of habitat around here.

Nevertheless I managed to glimpse three painted turtles, one, two and three years old respectively, before the placid quiet of the pond was shattered by the after-school hordes.

At the same time, there must have been a dozen turtles basking in the sun on the point at the South Creek Trail Pond.

A fence around a pond sure makes a difference.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Birds are fledging everywhere.

Falling out of trees. Sitting on the lawn. Running into branches.

The goldfinch pair that were visiting the niger feeder finally brought their almost full-grown little one.

Getting its first helping of free bird food.

Every morning there is a raucous screeching at the backyard feeder.

The grackles had four healthy chicks.

All bigger than their parents.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Weekends are always work days in the newspaper business.

I needed to hook up with Irv our staff photographer at the Springtime in Paris festival.

And distribute more newspapers. And pick up payments, mail and other stuff in St. George. And. And. And.

There was just enough time to grab a quick walk in the coolest part of the forest before I left for St. George.

There was a patch of Northern Dewberry I wanted to check out.

So did this Yellowpatch Skimmer.

Dewberries resembles raspberry bushes but have reddish-purple whip-like stems that particularly stand out in winter.

The fruits are clusters of red berries. Everything eats dewberries.

They don't last long in the woods.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Hadn't gone for a run in the forest for ages it seemed. Work. Foot injury. Birding. Gardening.

A supper of popcorn.

I know. That's what you do when you live by yourself. You get away with a lot of things.

Headed out to the forest for a slow run. Overcast, a touch cool, about to rain.

Everybody gone to cottage country to raise hell there. Whew.

It was great in the forest. Soft dirt trails. Green and hushed. Until I heard a "pee-ah-wee." Looked up to see a little Eastern Pewee flycatching in the branches over the boardwalk.

The forest surprised me. Lots of wildflowers had started blooming in my absence. June is spectacular for wildflowers. Even — or especially — along roadsides. The fields are full of daisies, heads bobbing away.

The butter-and-eggs, little yellow snapdragons, were starting too. Buttercups, anemone, wild grapevine, clover, starflower, raspberry.

Fleabane.

The wasps were loving the Leafy Spurge.

I wonder why.

Striped minnows darting around in a pool beside the marsh.

Every time you turned a corner, something smelled nice. Even if it was only damp earth.

Bumped into super-friendly Ingrid on the trail, walking her little dogs Sadie and Georgia. Moose too, a little daschund. It had run into Mama porcupine. Ingrid had pulled out 11 quills, by hand. Better than paying the $350 vet bill, she said.

Georgia is normally pretty grouchy but that's because she's old and in pain. Her muscles get tired and sore just like ours. I gave her a massage. She leaned against my ankles and looked up at me so I gave her another one.

Ingrid marvelled at Georgia making googly eyes at me. Poor thing. She was so knotted up.

It had been much too long since I did the 4-km trail in the forest and I had to backtrack a couple of times when I got lost. Turned into a 5-km run. But that was okay. It was a beautiful evening.

When I got home, I felt just like Georgia. Tired and sore.

But content. Even without a massage.

Monday, May 31, 2010

How luxurious it is to spend a whole day in the middle of the week, in the forest alone.

There wasn't a single other person, racing cyclist, barking dog, yelling kid, ATV — any annoyance whatsoever — at Currie Tract just off Guelph Line near Milton.

Heaven.

Even the biting horse flies weren't as persistent as they could be.

The weather called for rain at the end of the day. In the meantime, a heavy languid heat lay over the woods.

Bug paradise. Thank goodness for Skintastic.

I headed straight for the first birding hot spot, a dip in the path where the creek crosses from the marsh.

The birds just love it there. Food, warmth and a bath in the cool burbling water. What more could a creature want?

Redstarts seemed to be everywhere.

Every now and then I heard a "weeep." Where the heck was it coming from?

Aha.

A female Rosebreasted Grosbeak nicely camouflaged in some branches.

And that noisy chattering and flitting about at the end of the branches of a tree loaded with seeds. I think I knew what that was.

A rubbery Baltimore Oriole.

Out of habit I scanned the ends of all the bare branches just in case a certain tiny little creature was taking a break.

Yup. A Ruby Throated Hummingbird. Perusing the neighbourhood.

Everytime I took a shot, I seemed to be stepping on this lovely blue butterfly.

A Red Spotted Purple. Surprisingly his outside wings were completely different from his inside wings.

Go figure.

There's a great path lined with sweet-smelling sumac that's bound to be full of warblers.

The heat and humidity were suffocating in that sunny part of the Tract.

Perfect for Purple Flowering Raspberries.

And more Redstarts. Amazing how many there were.

All along the path there I could hear peristent peeps. For sure some bird was following me.

Every time I turned around or peeked into the bushes to pick him out, he would dart away.

Then circle around again. And there was more than one.

Clever little things. Wanted to stay just out of camera shooting range. And always with the sun behind them. How did they know?

Caught him. Playful little bugger.

The camera can occasionally outsmart even an Indigo Bunting.

On the other hand, some birds never come out and show themselves.

Just follow you around everywhere and put on a heck of a performance imitating every bird in the forest.

Like this Grey Catbird.

The heat was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Perfect basking weather for this female 12-Spotted Skimmer dragonfly.

On the way back to Guelph there's a busy intersection where the cars fly through on their way home from work.

The 11th Concession is a dead-end road bordering on a dark forested wetland. That's where I parked my car.

You never know the treasures you can discover on a dead-end road. Especially beside a wetland.

These wild purple flags were lovely, framing a pond of duckweed.

I walked up and down the gravel road peering into the forest. Surprisingly, there wasn't much to be seen.

Then something in the ditch caught my eye.

Something amazing.

A clump of Ladyslipper Orchids. And when I looked up and down the concession road, the sloping built-up gravel road side was full of them. As far as the eye could see.

What a marvel.

And to think that not a single one of those cars racing through the intersection could see the beauty that lay only a few feet away.

If only people took the time to stop and look around.

The best things in life have nothing to do with rushing around keeping up with the Joneses.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The first full moon in May. Usually the deer brought out their newborns around now.

I set off to find them. If any. With all the loose dogs running around the Hanlon Creek Woods I'm always surprised that any fawns survive.

In the last half hour before sunset, sometimes you can hear the babies bawling for their mothers. Hungry.

It's a curious thing. The newborn fawns are casually deposited by their mothers for the entire day in just about any old barely secluded spot.

In the woods I've tripped over more than one folded up bundle of legs, spots and baby animal smell. I'm the one that ends up panicking, never Mom.

They seem to know best. Usually. I've seen some weird hiding places though.

Stairwells. Ferns. The front garden of the community centre. The intersection of public pathways. Oh my.

I saw Mom in the field, her udder hanging low. Maybe a little one would be with her.

Bingo.

Just barely taller than the grass.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

It's hard working under an impending deadline when the weather is sunny and hot. Too hot, really. More like stifling.

Summer seems to have set in early this year.

Makes up for last year. Although I liked last year, even though it rained a lot. Coolish too.

Comfortable.

I was hearing a certain cheery call in the mornings for about a week. I had a feeling one of my special feeders was getting some business.

I was up early this morning, getting a head start on last minute tardy ads after the long weekend.

When I peeked out the window, there he was.

A Baltimore Oriole. Singin' away from the treetops.

A nice way to start the day.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Gorgeous sunny breezy weather is sending a lot of birds on their way north, I suspect.

A pair of Red-eyed Vireos serenaded the forest all day from the tree tops. I managed to phish this one down.

Sounded like a robin that just won't shut up.

This little Prairie Ringlet popped into the field for a rest.

Butterflies are everywhere these days.

It's nice to put a name to them.

Monday, May 17, 2010

The first and second-year deer are sticking together in the forest.

Haven't seen Mom for weeks. But I did see a trail of blood drips down the main walking path last week.

I suspect there has been a fawn or two born.

None of the Canada Geese have been successful with their eggs this season, except one family far away in the park.

There are a lot of racoons this year.

A Mallard lost her entire brood of nine ducklings last Monday.

She was simply beside herself, crying and running in circles in the parking area.

Trying to find them for hours.

It was heartbreaking.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Serious warbler migration reached Guelph this weekend.

Walkers, dogs, cyclists, runners and the cursed minibike kid shared the busy urban forest behind my house with the sweet twitchy calls of five-inch-long cigar-shaped feathered objects darting from branch to branch.

It wasn't Rondeau, but it was pretty darn good for a city backyard.

I picked out a Hermit thrush, Baltimore Oriole, Lesser Yellowlegs, and Chestnut-sided and Yellow warblers.

And a gorgeous quiet little male Redstart.

Fabulous butterflies, too, sunning themselves on an old willow tree right at the entrance to the forest.

Red Admirals and a Mourning Cloak. And a Question Mark Butterfly not far away.

A week of heaven. Better than nothing in the big city.

Friday, May 14, 2010

There's nothing wrong with having a day that's just plain fun.

It wasn't easy to haul myself out of bed at 6:30 a.m., especially with a lingering sinus infection. But soon I was on the road to Rondeau Provincial Park on Lake Erie.

I used to go to Point Pelee National Park for spring migration. But the last few years have been unbearable. Crowds. Noise. Pushing. People with screechie walkie talkies.

Complaints with administration went nowhere. I vowed I wouldn't go back. There are always other places where birds congregate during spring migration.

Ontario is pretty lucky that way.

After all the recent days of northwest wind and rain, I expected a huge fallout of birds all along the coast of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie.

In the morning when I left home, the fog was lifting and the sun was peaking out. Everything was right on schedule.

And so were the birds.

When I arrived at Rondeau, it was filthy with warblers. Black-throated Green, Blackburnian, Yellow-Rumped, Magnolia, Palm, Nashville, Pine, Common Yellow Throat. It just went on and on.

Chestnut Sided.

Black and White.

Black Throated Blue.

Plus Scarlett Tanager, Warbling Vireo, Baltimore Oriole, Rose Breasted Grosbeak, Swainson's Thrush, Veery. Every birder around — and thankfully, there weren't too many — remarked on the spectacular number and variety of species.

Lots of beautiful wild flowers lined the pathways, like Bouncing Bets.

Wild Geranium.

The highlight of the day wasn't even a bird.

A Five-lined Skink, Ontario's only native species of lizard, ran out on a log at the Spicebush Trail.

The other birders were great, a polite knowledgable sort only too helpful with camera lenses, tips, and impromptu tag-alongs.

Visitors were from all over the world it seemed: British Columbia, Ohio, England, Australia, Quebec.

They brought their jokes and dry humour with them too.

My favourite type of people.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

I drove home from St. George around suppertime through the cold pelting rain.

Took Sheffield Road from habit, not really looking around much. Lost in thought.

Suddenly, something black and white flashed across the road.

Lovely tinkling sounds.

Bobolinks. Nine of them. Foraging in the farmers fields.

Who knew a rotten day could produce such riches.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The last few days we've been suffering from cold winds, rain, sleet and overnight frost.

Can't help thinking about the poor birds trying to make their way north.

It can't be easy being a bird.

The weather didn't seem to bother these rabbits on my lawn this afternoon.

My neighbour tells me they have a nest of little ones, naked and pink.

Friday, May 7, 2010

I didn't want to miss these precious few days of spring migration.

I set out with a belly full of hot chicken soup, my camera and the binoculars. Flu be danged.

Of course it started to rain.

Better for birdwatching at least.

At what was normally the busiest walkway of Preservation Park, I hit gold. Birds galore.

And no people. Bliss. Rain come on.

Baltimore Oriole. Yellow warbler. Northern Flicker, Blue grey gnatcatcher. Something nibbling on apple blossoms.

Cedar waxwing.

I stood for a while under some overhanging branches while the rain came down. The birds dove for shelter too.

Except this one.

A soaking wet green heron.

I had marked a spot on the forest path where I saw something unusual the other day.

Probably it was gone by now, trampled or taken away by someone. A typical Guelph thing.

I just love it when I'm wrong.

A morel. Along with four more.

I've never seen them in Guelph. And now others can too.

What a treat.

Friday, May 7, 2010

There's definitely competition in the blogoshpere when it comes to the cuteness department.

Carol Brown sent me to a live webcast of a hummingbird nest. Also from California.

www.ustream.tv/channel/new/Hummingbird-Nest-Cam

Goodness. Why leave the house?

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

There's birdwatching even when you have the flu.

www.ustream.tv/theowlbox is a live webcast from an owl box in California. Molly and "Legs" McGee are raising their barn owlets from eggs to fledge.

Cu-uuuuute.

Warning: It is dangerously addictive.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Shorebirds love stinky sewage lagoons, and that's just where Pat and I set off today. Arthur.

It was raining pretty good when we got into the first lagoon.

There was a Willett, Shovelers, Green Winged Teal, and lots more that we were just too sopping wet to identify.

Hate to get all that fancy camera and scoping gear too wet. We ran to the car.

On the way, managed to get these two Lesser Yellowlegs poking around in the water.

Aptly named.

An Eastern Kingbird was chasing after bugs, tail flashing away.

Back at home it hadn't rained much at all.

A cute little White Capped Sparrow couldn't decide whether to take a bath or not.

Some days the best bird watching is right in the yard.

Watching from the window with a hot cup of tea.

Friday, April 30, 2010

It was a day off for school kids today. At least, that's what I discovered in the forest.

Bedlam.

In the meantime, things had sprung up almost over night. Like these May apples.

Saw my first Jack-In-The-Pulpit this year.

In a part of the forest that no one seems to find, there was this gorgeous little gem sitting quietly on a branch.

A Spring Azure.

Even in chaos there is a bit of serenity.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Pat and I went to the Carden alvar northeast of Lake Simcoe.

It was a major field trip.

It's a mixed area of limestone alvar, fen, prairie, wetland, and thick forest accessible only by a narrow pot-holed gravel road. Translation: difficult. Dusty, sparse and isolated. Perfect for birds.

Not so perfect for cars and people though. I'm still cleaning out limestone dust from my hair. And my car seats. And my camera. And my clothes.

And those roads. The ruts? Oy! My poor suspension.

We almost ran over an Upland Sandpiper strolling across the road.

He didn't move very fast. We rolled down the window.

What is your problem anyway? he asked us.

Got to keep your eyes peeled. Us that is.

Here's a view of Wylie Road, the main artery into the protected area.

Right off the bat, we spied Bluebirds and Meadowlarks hanging around the main sign.

Not too far down the road there was a buzzing sound.

He was smaller than a Northern Shrike. It could have been a Loggerhead Shrike.

Very rare.

There were a lot of barren looking cattle ranches on the other side of the road. Low lying junipers, exposed rock, cedar fenced paddocks.

With these mean anti-birdwatcher signs.

Hurt my feelings.

Gorgeous flowering shrubs.

Not sure what they were. Berry bushes maybe.

The roadsides were overflowing with trilliums. More than I've ever seen anywhere.

Check out the groovy lichen on this rock.

Flourescent. We thought it was spray painted.

The Kirkfield Restaurant was like someone's 1970s dining room. A no-nonsense waitress. Six tables, a formica counter and a big pop cooler. They boasted traditional Greek food.

Amazingly, it was. Delicious.

The drive back home was pretty darn long. Stiff joints. Could barely unfold myself when I stepped out of the car.

Maybe I am getting too old for road trips.

Friday, April 23, 2010

It was newspaper delivery day today. A seven hour job. Two hundred kilometres. Still dog tired from a week of grueling work.

Braced myself for a long hard day.

I spied this Hooded Merganser at the bottom of County Rd. 35.

Things got a lot easier after that.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Mama Porcupine was in the forest today. Stuffing tender young maple keys into her mouth.

Man was she fat. Nipples on her belly.

I pointed her out to two teenagers walking by, engrossed in conversation.

Really? they said.

Gave them my binoculars for a better view.

Never saw a porcupine before. Wow, they said. That's pretty cool.

Two more converts.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Saw the first dragonfly of the year, blue. Zipping over the South Creek pond.

They migrate too, just like birds.

Welcome back.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Pat and I checked out the woodcocks at night at the end of Niska Road.

One flew right over our heads. Little twittery dive bomb.

The best part of the evening was seeing an Eastern Meadowlark.

Pat got a photo.

Handsome.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Spent the day roaming around the pretty little town of St. George where I work.

I have a special fondness for the Adelaide Hunter Hoodless Homestead where a very good friend of mine used to be curator. It's evocative of another time there, of isolation yet contentment in the country.

A female cardinal darted out from some holly bushes beside the doorway. She didn't want me to see what was there.

But I did.

There's a little swamp there. Always played havoc with the Homestead's septic system.

The skunk cabbages were cool.

Tongues.

Couldn't resist this other cabbage.

Lobster claw.

At a telephone pole on Sheffield Road, a crow dove in and out and in and out.

What was the point of that?

Harrassing a red tailed hawk. He was very pissed off.

Saw half a red-orange breast on a bird perched at the side of the road. Steel blue feathers.

A bluebird. There are almost always bluebirds on Sheffield Road.

Made my day.

Friday, April 16, 2010

A warm overcast day, perfect for trying to find the danged Mystery Warbler.

I'd been hearing him for weeks. Tweet tweeeeeet tweet tweet TWEET tweet. Twitch twitch twitch.

Always just below the tree tops. Always jumpy. Always flying away before you get a bead on him.

He watches for people from up high then takes off when someone comes along.

What? Wary of human beings?

Smart bird.

My strategy today was to hide behind a tree trunk with my binoculars.

Didn't work. But I did manage to scare away several small children.

Sorry about that.

I found the one pair of trout lilies that hadn't been dug out of the forest yet.

On the way back I checked up on some early nesting Canada Geese.

They had had a night of bad luck.

So sad.

Maybe they will have another batch.

I will keep an eye on them.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

It was so sunny and nice outside, I played hookey this morning. Hopefully the forest would be good to me, I prayed.

Right off the bat, some guy and his two over-excited out-of-control dogs nearly ran me over.

Watch out for the porcupine, I told him.

Oh I don't mind, he said. She's already been hit. Last year. He pointed at his poodle.

If only I understood poodle, I thought. I'd love to hear what SHE had to say.

He walked away, hollering at his dogs to Come! Come HERE! NOW!!

They were long gone. I think I would be too.

Things were not looking too good so far in the forest.

But at least the bloodroot was happy. Unfurling in the sun.

Down at the Southcreek pond, I spotted my friend from last year, the pied billed grebe. Dunking and diving.

A bad shot. He just would not keep still. Never did.

The forest was dappled with sunlight, patches of green here and there. With people in the middle of them, hunched over.

What the…?

Garlic pickers. Tastes good, especially in soup, they said. Korean soup.

Hmmm. Good idea.

I grabbed a handful. They were right. Tasty.

On the way back, a fuss in the bushes.

A fight! Chickadee rumble!

Spring fever in the forest.

Monday, April 12, 2010

It was a gloomy cool spring night at the abandoned gravel quarry lands off Niska Road.

Matched my mood. Irksome troubles on the home front.

I heard an American Woodcock peet there last night, past sunset. Came back again to see what I could see.

Coltsfoot dotted the sides of the gravel right-of-way as I made my way to the Speed River.

Lots of swallows sliced through the air.

Didn't see the big beavers that were there last night. The geese got out of their way in a hurry.

I wonder why.

There was a mad chattering in the air that I knew could only belong to one thing.

A kingfisher on the fly.

I was miles away and it was moving fast. My great new camera actually caught this shot. Hurrah motion control.

It was pretty dark by 8:30 p.m. No one around for miles but me and the howling coyotes.

Sent shivers up my back.

I could still make a run for my car if I saw that darn coyote pack crest over the hill.

I waited stoicly at the woodcock field.

Sure enough, there it was.

Bizzzzzzz, tweet tweet tweet. Silence. Bizzzzzz. Silence. Bizzzzzz.

Suddenly a bowling pin with wings flew over my head, zipping through the sky.

An American Woodcock doing his wacky mating dance.

Couldn't get a photo. Too dark, even for a Nikon D90. Darn.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Good news. A rare pair of pine siskins paid a visit. Again. They don't normally hang around for the summer.

Madam was persistently tugging out strands of fibre from the rope that hangs the niger feeder.

Fuzzy face.

Making a nest somewhere.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Spent the day on the shores of Lake Huron looking at properties for sale and exploring.

The weather has been incredibly warm and sunny the last week.

Perfect for getting out of the house and making some changes in life.

I liked this place.

Who wouldn't?

Afterwards, I walked through Pinery Provincial Park, just across the road.

It was beautifully quiet there, deserted by the summertime throngs.

Just the way I prefer it.

The beach sure was nice. Not a soul for miles and miles. Only a flock of mergansers.

Wouldn't mind having this at my back door.

On the way to the car, I bumped into a fellow traveler. I lay down on the road so I could take his picture.

Not even a twitch. He was probably asleep in the sun.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Just about everybody comes to the bird feeding patio eventually.

Even Mr. Crow.

He hears my back door and watches from the rooftop. Then swoops down, scaring all the birds away.

I still like him.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

There weren't any pine siskins this winter. Then all of a sudden.

A couple showed up.

The goldfinches are slowly but surely becoming a more and more brilliant yellow.

Colour is one of the best things about spring.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The first day of spring.

This will probably be the last one in Guelph. I'm preparing to sell the house.

It's hard living in a city neighbourhood. For so many reasons.

It's difficult to work. My painting has stalled. So many irritants when you work from home.

The constant noise. Airplanes every 10 minutes. Honking, cars, people. Doorbell ringing all the time it seems.

The worst thing is the lack of privacy. Here it's a shoulder-to-shoulder townhouse development.

I don't want to deal with the neighbours. I dress in tattered old comfy clothes. Messy hair.

There are the neighbours who make your business their business. This house has lots of windows. I used to love that. But windows are not just for looking out. They're for looking in too.

This year I'll be 50. I promised myself a special gift.

I have a house or two picked out on Lake Huron. If things go according to plan, I'll be living there by the end of the year.

Peace and quiet. Painting again. Undisturbed.

My fingers are crossed.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Irv sold me his Nikon D90 camera. He was upgrading to an even fancier one.

Irv's a camera fiend. But he sure knows his stuff. He takes great photos for the newspaper.

I've been trying the camera out for a few days. It has a pretty good Nikkor 18-200 mm lens.

I really like it.

Faster and smarter and brighter than my Canon E0S Rebel.

Now I can have two cameras ready for shots, one with a telephoto zoom and the other with a regular 55 mm normal landscape view.

I sure feel spoiled.

Went for a test run today to check out early migrants in Brant county where I work.

Spooked this red-tailed hawk on Green Lane.

Caught these killdeer poking around a field on Harrisburg Road, calling and calling.

Relieved. They had made it back over the Great Lakes.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

More days of firsts.

The first bugs, flies hatching and buzzing away in the lawn. A butterfly. A moth or two.

The lilting song of the first warbler high in the forest treetops. Maybe a pine warbler.

The first new holes drilled by a pileated woodpecker.

The first Kingfisher. On Downey Road, one of my favourite routes to work.

Over the winter, a kind soul had repaired the hand-tied bridge over the creek.

Now people could explore the forest interior again.

Hopefully, with care.

On the way back, the deer were munching away at someone's tray feeder.

I know you're not supposed to feed the deer. But still…

When I got home, the awfullest neighbours were out and about, snooping on my side lawn. They were commenting on how dreadful the cedars looked.

Spring had arrived at Somerset Glen.

Monday, March 15, 2010

The last few days have been days of firsts.

The first bluebird. On Sheffield Road. Cold, wet, huddled on a fence post in the windy sleet.

The first sighting of Mama Porcupine in the forest since last summer. Scurrying up a tree. Fat. Preggers. I can hardly wait to see the little one.

Last year I had the amazing privilege of seeing Mama nurse her baby — at the base of the very same tree. Caring, careful. She had to be. It's not easy being nursed by a porcupine.

She stood on her hind legs and baby crept up against her belly, rubbed cheeks and noses and hugged a little before sucking away. I swear.

The first liquid call of a brown-headed cowbird in the yard.

The first massive flock of red-winged blackbirds and grackles, descending from the sky in a cloud of shifting raucous energy. Covering my patio, the lawn, the rooftops.

The first run in the forest in spike-less running shoes, negotiating through the mud.

The first bladder infection of the year as usual coinciding with the spring melt and the new rains. So much for municipal water.

A few days of bottled water and boiling my toothbrush usually cures it.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

"For Pete's sake, HOLD THE FORT!!!"

"I see something… something really really GOOD!… "

A pigeon just flew by.

Friday, March 12, 2010

It's 11 o'clock at night. Raining hard. I should be working on writing up my last stories for the newspaper.

But I'm not.

I'm staring out the window with all the lights turned off in the house. Trying to be still.

Mom and one of the twins are vacuuming up the leftover bird seed at the patio.

Nothing goes to waste.

Even in a driving rainstorm.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

I just can't believe spring is here already. In March? In Canada?

Pshaw.

I'm still bracing for the first really bad snowstorm of the winter.

It's beautifully warm and sunny. Sure enough, there are signs in the garden that things are stirring.

The forest looked very spring-like today as well.

Dog poop everywhere, slippery water-covered icy trails. Even the freaky weirdo exhibitionist guy was out and about, remarking on the good weather and harrassing random women on the pathway.

Some things about spring in Guelph I really don't miss.

I took the long way home. Trying to avoid the freaky weirdo guy.

It was dangerous walking, slipping and sliding along. I had to cut through the forest a lot to get a footing.

I finally stepped out of the woods and just as I breathed a sigh of relief, I heard an all-too-familiar chupping and squeaking noise.

The first grackle of the year.

Now it really was spring.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

One of the first warm sunny days of the year. Things were melting fast.

The trail at Starkey's Loop just east of Arkell, was pretty slippery. And hills galore.

Up and down, up and down. My ankles were killing me.

The best part was meeting the resident chickadees.

They liked us too.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

A sure sign of spring.

Canada Geese doing their crazy honky dance on the rooftops.

Isn't it always a good idea to stake out your nesting territory at 7:30 in the morning?

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Squeezing in at the trough.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Why do pigeons always look so comical?

One of life's little mysteries.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Got a little sparrow.

Darn that Coop.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Pat and I heard that a very unusual migrant from the B.C. coast had found its way to the Bolton area this winter.

Our Valentine's Day Mission: to explore new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where few birders have gone before…

In other worlds, to find the elusive Varied Thrush at Cold Creek Conservation Area.

It was an damp cold overcast day preceding a forecast of a week of snow. We wanted to cram in as much as we could.

Things started off well. A Northern Shrike on the way to Erin, and another one just outside the Forks of the Credit. Both at the very top of a tree at the end of a branch. Both nervously scoping out the countryside.

Both amazing.

Just to top it off —

Wild turkeys.

That was nice. But things got EVEN cooler.

Rough Legged Hawks, soaring and strafing a field along Highway 10. Four of them. Could they already be congregating prior to mating season?

A very early first sign of spring.

Well. Could things get any better?

Yup. The Varied Thrush. A lifer for both Pat and I.

What a beauty.

He was supposed to be a very shy secretive bird. But when we whistled bird calls, he came about 20 feet away, leaving his corn behind and peeking out at us in from the middle of a tangled thicket.

He just might have been loving all the adulation, do ya think?

Then Pat and I made a run for the car before we turned into popsicles.

We found our way to Samuel Smith Park in Toronto to see if there was anything interesting off shore. There usually is.

We weren't disappointed. The Long Tailed Ducks put on a diving show.

We scurried back home to Guelph, defrosting on our heated car seats.

A great day.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Everybody's waiting for a winter storm to descend.

In the meantime, some pigeons took the opportunity to have a bath.

They all had the same idea at the same time.

Pigeons are like that.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

It was a day of a whole slew of winter weather. Wind. Snow. Sleet. C-c-c-co-o-l-d.

How do the cows do it? They must have thick fur coats on.

Pat and I were at the old Niska Bridge at the west side of Guelph checking out the waterfowl.

Suddenly a deer leapt up the bank chased by two big barking German Shepherds. The deer ran straight into traffic right across the end of the bridge.

Oh my God. There was a big SUV barreling right through. I screamed. Nooo!!

"Don't look," Pat yelled and covered my face with her hand.

By some miracle of God, there was no collision. No sickening sound of steel thumping against flesh. We thought for sure that if the deer wasn't shmucked, the dogs would have been.

The deer kept running and ended up in the river.

The two dogs ran into the water too, barking and trying to get at her. She stomped at them with her front legs. We yelled at the dogs but we were too far away to make a difference.

Eventually the dogs from hell got cold, turned around and left. They ran back to their owner again passing right in front of us.

The deer licked her back haunch. Injured. Poor thing. Then still as a statue. Practically frozen from shock.

Normally you can't miss seeing deer right beside the Niska bridge at the fenced-in boardwalk. Today there were none. Of course.

What kind of a moron would set their dogs loose in a known deer yard? Honest to God, there are so many kinds of idiots in this world. It never ceases to amaze me.

It was a miracle nobody was killed.

I sorely wish this country had stronger laws protecting animals from rotten human beings. There is no real punishment or deterrent.

I sincerely hope that in their next life, that dog owner will be a deer.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

A deep winter freeze set in the last few days. Minus 16. Brrrr.

This morning I got out of bed and peeked out the window between a couple of blinds. You never know what you will spy in the backyard.

A quiet little blue jay was catching the first warm rays of the sun.

I'd forgotten the suet holder on the planter box.

Friday, January 29, 2010

It was a tough week at work. I cheered myself up with a bit of spring wardrobe shopping.

Camo. On sale, too. What luck!

Straight from the men's hunting and fishing department. Perfect for birdwatching this spring in bare cold damp forests.

What more could a girl want?

Monday, January 25, 2010

Rain, drizzle and sleet blew all day long reducing the forest paths to muddy wet channels and lawns to spongy carpets of green.

A lot of creatures are just loving the warm weather. Last night I tripped over five deer, a big fat racoon and a rabbit all congregating on the side lawn. And my lawn's not that big.

It's impossible to run in the forest in the mushy muddy mess. I haven't visited my quiet cathedral for more than a week. Indoor exercise doesn't even begin to compare.

Runners' withdrawal is brutal.

But at least the animals are getting an unexpected bonus.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

The warm sun and clear roads of the January thaw were next to impossible to resist. I ran away from the computer and a pressing deadline and went back to Metz to find the elusive Snowy Owl. Local reports had pegged it hanging around the 5th Line.

I e-mailed Pat but didn't hear back. I suspected she was trying to sleep off her 12-hour shift. Or visiting her twin sister in Orangeville.

It was a glorious day as I criss-crossed the dirt roads southeast of Arthur, peering at every haybale and fence post for white blobs. I was happy enough to see something, anything when I spotted Horned Larks scattering across a field, picking up leftover corn from the harvest.

The old country bridges were charming although a bit alarming with their pot holes and narrow width. Quite a few little bowstring bridges and a cool cast iron bridge crossed over frozen drainage streams and narrow rivers.

I stopped in the middle of this bridge just for the heck of it and scanned the short drop. There were a myriad of animal tracks crossing the melting ice and snow.

I found out something about hibernating animals: they actually come out of hibernation on nice days. They must enjoy the sun too.

This muskrat stared at me and I stared at him for at least a few minutes. Why it had its mouth open, I just don't know. Suddenly he clamped his jaw tight and ran back into the hole.

Gone. Just like that.

I was crawling down dirt roads for hours it seemed, but there were so many interesting things to see.

There was a gorgeous Victorian brick house in Mount Carmel.

Just past the crest of a hill on the 5th Line, I came across a shocking, mystifying sight. The torn apart corpse of a big freshly-killed bird. It was a wild turkey. It was missing its head, neck, crop and feet.

There were lots of tracks around the kill site but it was hard to tell what made them. Maybe an animal. Maybe another bird. But it must have been a big one.

It still hadn't finished the job. Internal organs were strewn about.

I had a feeling the minute I left, scavengers would be back cleaning up the rest. Nature is very efficient that way.

And beautiful.

Even in death.

The sun was dropping in the sky and I was getting weary. Where oh where might a Snowy Owl perch? I decided to make a quick pass back north along 5th Line on the route home.

Perhaps my heart's yearning was just not to be had that day. I had to admit I was disappointed. But at least I had given it my best shot. And discovered so many wonders along the way. Isn't that what life was all about?

When I turned up the 5th Line, over my shoulder I saw a peculiar sight. Wasn't that someone with a honkin' big super telephoto lens sneaking up on a haybale?

It totally was.

There it was, a big gorgeous fluffy Snowy Owl, nervously watching. It spread its huge wings and flapped over to a fence post, then way over to a some sort of livestock pen with tall wooden cutouts of fake building fronts.

I was thrilled to pieces.

Thanks Jeanette and Jeff.

It was a day full of marvelous adventures.

How the heck would I ever tell Pat what she missed?

It wasn't going to be easy.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Here's trouble.

Coop's back.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

There's an interesting symbiosis going on between the pigeons and the sparrows at the feeder station. The pigeons line up and peer over the edge of the roof, watching for a bunch of sparrows to start eating at the feeders and the seed to spill on the ground.

Then they swoop down and greedily gobble up the seed.

It's an interesting balancing act. The pigeons know they can't scare off the sparrows because they're the ones providing lunch. The sparrows know to keep out of the pigeons' way while at the same time paying attention to their alarm calls.

But the pigeons are so darn hungry and competitive, they can barely control themselves.

It only seems to work for a few minutes before the pigeons panic and fly off in a commotion, scattering everyone to the rooftops.

Monday, January 18, 2010

With the January thaw melting all the snow on the lawn and the grass coming through, it's literally a zoo out on the lawn at night.

Last night when I turned out the light for bed, I peaked through the kitchen window. A couple metres away there were six deer lazily munching away on the grass.

They raised their heads when they saw me then said nah, and went back to their munching.

The deer love my lawn. It's easy access right across from the entrance to the forest. And there's bound to be seed on the ground from the bird feeders.

I tried to take a picture.

The camera protested mightily.

The deer didn't give a hoot about that crazy flash.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

It was madness at the bird feeders again today. I had so many finches dropping by, I couldn't begin to count them all.

The chirpy din was almost deafening. They squabbled and pushed each off the feeder perches, and got pissed off when someone's tail jutted down in their face.

Here's a purple finch on the left and a house finch on the right, and a purple coming for a landing.

Make way.

Monday, January 11, 2010

I should have been working away on drawings and painting. Or at least my real job, writing articles and preparing ads for the next edition of the newspaper. But I played hookey.

It was the first perfect day of the season for watching birds at the feeders … a still, warm minus five degrees, overcast, and a little snow falling all day long.

Perfect for passerines because that darn Cooper's hawk couldn't do any soaring.

Dozens of goldfinches were swarming the back porch, twittering and peeping away and buzzing each other off the feeder. I topped up the niger feeder three times.

A couple of house finches, a small flock of starlings, a bunch of pigeons and a couple of Downey Woodpeckers dropped by too.

I couldn't stop watching them all afternoon. Sweet.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

It was one of those startling bright January days, warm in the sun but frigid in the shadows.

Pat was kind of in the dumps today about her horse Abbey. She might have to be sold. It was pretty depressing.

I was fighting a week-long lymph gland infection and hadn't been able to get out much. Bad cabin fever.

I yanked Pat out of her house and we took off for Metz just north of Fergus to check out the Snowy Owl reports. We drove up and down roads that looked like they were scratched out of the Siberian tundra.

No ditches, that's for sure. And no snowy owl. But there was still a lot to see. A shrike leaped to the tallest branch of a spruce tree as we drove by. We admired the wide flat fields bordered by the odd hedgerow and some lovely farmhouses.

People were so friendly. Every car we met up with stopped to see what we were doing.

At least, I thought they were just being friendly.

Finally a nice older couple with a honking big telephoto lens tipped us off about a feeding area someone had set up for the local snow buntings on Sideroad 6.

It was just as they said. Hundreds and hundreds of snow buntings swooped and rippled in the sky in a huge flock, then dropped to the ground to fed on cracked corn.

They were really great.

When we got home, Pat was feeling a bit better and so was I.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Yesterday Pat and I went to 50 Point Conservation Area near Grimsby. I nearly turned into a popsicle while scoping the diving ducks off shore in the pounding surf of Lake Ontario. How did they do it? It was so cold the spray was freezing mid-air. There were a ton of ducks including a bunch of White-winged Scoters with bumpy noses.

No photo. I didn't want to chance dropping my camera with stiff frozen fingers.

Afterwards we went to Denningers in Hamilton and bought some yummy cheeses, chocolates, yogurts and breads to take home. At least I did. Pat had more restraint.

Still darn cold today, minus 9, minus 18 with the windchill. Looking out the window at the wind blasting the bare branches, I felt a lot like these mourning doves huddling against the wind.

As I'm typing, the wind is pummeling the roof. I'm going for a walk in the forest anyway. Can't stand spending an entire day indoors. I've learned it's never as bad outdoors as it looks.

When I get back, that bag from Denningers is going to get some serious pillaging.