Worn.

UplandsviewJu192017

Uplands Park View

Today, the Park seems like the Hundred Acre Wood, intimate, private. It’s breezy closer to the sea but I’m out of the wind here in the meadow. I have the trails to myself too. With no runners or dogs to disturb them, young Chickadees and Towhees are active, chasing each other through the foliage like kids. They seemed not to mark the juvenile Cooper’s Hawk that cruised silently past a moment earlier, a serious lapse. Carelessness can get a bird killed here, unless it’s lucky, or the wide-eyed hawk is equally inexperienced and inept, which is not impossible.

CoopersHawkSept2016c

Cooper’s Hawk

MeadowflwrsJu192017

Meadow Flowers

Mostly I see signs of the turning of the year – flowers past their peak, older birds, worn now and replacing feathers. Gone the flamboyant colours and behaviours of mating season. Not completely, perhaps. A Yellow-rumped Warbler is still handsome, a ( pardon me ) ratty Spotted Towhee trills and fidgets a display of sorts nearby, a Bewick’s Wren sings half-hardheartedly in the shade. A Chipping Sparrow, on the other hand, seems content to feed up for the fall migration, keeping its own counsel. An Anna’s Hummingbird takes in the sun, as relaxed as a hummingbird ever gets

YRWarbJu142017

Yellow-rumped Warbler

TowheewrnJu192017

Spotted Towhee

Bewicks2Ju192017

Bewick’s Wren

ChipspwrnJu192017

Chipping Sparrow

AnnasJu192017

Anna’s Hummingbird

A strikingly-patterned butterfly appears. It’s a Lorquin’s Admiral, looking great from a distance but close up, not so good. Its wings are in tatters, a sign that it’s at the end of its short life. Nice name though – Lorquin’s Admiral.

Lorquin's AdmiralJul142017

Lorquin’s Admiral

Speaking of names, those of butterflies seem more poetic than those of birds – Skippers, Fritillaries, Azures, Parnassians, Hairstreaks. Admirals are Brushfoots. Brushfoots – makes me think of Hobbits. So – I started my walk with Winnie the Pooh and now I’m in Middle Earth. It’s that kind of a morning.

Once assigned, of course, names frequently stick. The competition to put the labels on things must be fierce. Bicycles were originally called velocipedes, which seems so much better. The same people who named birds must have insisted upon ‘bikes’; butterfly aficionados probably would have gone with ‘velos’. Boy, my mind really is wandering now. Talk about worn.

 

 

 

 

Pigeons! Good grief!

PiggroupJu102017

It’s a measure, perhaps, of how slow mid-summer birding has been for me that I offer up this post on pigeons. I don’t mean the sleek, pearl-grey Band-tailed Pigeons, those lovely forest birds, but ordinary Rock Doves. Not well liked generally, these ‘rats of the air’, but I’ve always had a fondness for them.

I won’t bore you with stories of boyhood attempts to become a ‘pigeon fancier’, or of nabbing sleeping birds from under the eaves of the abandoned, towering old Coop with its rotten floors, or of the strange assortment of culled birds begged from real pigeon people, or of the beautiful red Homer, with its mighty chest and prominent cere, the one my friend Lloyd and I grabbed from off a downtown sidewalk. Gosh, that bird was something – a prince among pigeons. He stayed with us for a few days, ate our gleaned scratch grain, gathered his strength and then continued his journey home-at ninety miles an hour if he wanted to kick in the afterburners. Where home was, Lloyd and I never knew. We ought to have recorded his band number but twelve-year-olds often don’t think of these things until it’s too late.

GraypigJu102017.jpg

To make this more like a birding post, I mount a photographic expedition in support of it. I soon discover that there are really good-looking birds in most flocks. When I park out on Turkey Head, the locals descend, ready for a handout. They obviously don’t understand I’m here to do a photo essay, because I have to keep chasing them off the hood of my newly-washed car. It’s very disrespectful (Hey- I’m working here!).

WhpigJu102017

Begging for handouts, incidentally, doesn’t interrupt the mating process with Rock Doves. I’m not sure anything less than a Peregrine Falcon attack would accomplish that. The cooing and billing goes on through the year, which is why there are so many of these feathered ‘rats’ around the world. It’s not their fault. I watch a movie star among Rock Doves as he pouts his way from one female to another until he finally gets his way. He’s got it all going on!

pigscourtju102017

BlackpigJul102017

When a more promising car drives by, the flock lifts off, whirls around, performs some aerial acrobatics and, disappointed, re-descends near me. Pigeons are beautiful flyers, agile and swift, with those wing-tip clapping takeoffs. It’s worth watching pigeons fly; there aren’t many birds who do it better. See how they soar and turn, tumble and dive, flight feathers whistling. Wonderful! It’s those big chest muscles and the area and shape of the wing that does it.

PigsflyJu2102017

They’re relatively good parents too, think ‘pigeon milk’. In the bird world, only Penguins and Flamingos and members of the dove family make ‘milk’ for their offspring. I’ve never lost my love for these birds. Most of the snarky things people say about them could also be said about our own species, which doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as too many pigeons.

Courtpigs3

So that’s it for the Rock Dove, my old pals. Nostalgia still drives me to visit to poultry barns at fall fairs, to check out Pouters, Fantails, Rollers and Tumblers at local shows, to listen to the music of  squawks, coos and peeps and the rustle of feathers, to breathe in the once familiar smells of scratch grain and straw. Other bird smells I try to ignore. I’m selective with with nostalgia. One has to be.

The Owl

ObhillviewAp62017

View from Observatory Hill

On a whim, we drive to the top of Observatory Hill to take in the views. It’s almost noon and the temperature is perfect, on the decal edge of hot. Nice weather for a walk. After a few minutes of searching, we relocate trail head, now obscured by creamy cascades of Ocean Spray. It’s not those slightly stinky blossoms that perfumes the air. The sweet, resinous scent results, likely, from the sun heating up volatile oils on the firs and glossy-leafed Arbutus. It’s lovely.

Aside from a curious juvenile Dark-eyed Junco with his speckled belly, we hear lots of birds but see nada. Anyway, I left my camera with its dead battery in the car. That’s okay. We came for the views and the walk. What are the chances of spotting a good bird at this time of year? Good, as it turns out.

PlasktttteldomeApr62017

Plaskett Telescope Dome

ObhillforestApr62017

The Forest – Observatory Hill

It’s when we pause to admire a view of Prospect Lake, that the birds we haven’t seen suddenly appear. They’re excited, agitated, giving alarm calls and intermittently dive-bombing a stand of firs. A phantom takes wing, a raptor. It glides out of the grove and down the hill. We ease down the slope and spot the bird. A Great Horned Owl!

Of course, the Robins, Downy Woodpeckers, Yellow-rumped Warblers and Juncos want it gone. After a moment, the Owl cranks its head around, exasperation showing in big, yellow eyes, and departs. Its tormentors follow. A noisy gaggle tumbles down through the trees and, suddenly, the show is over. The lesson for me is clear. Always carry a spare camera battery! In lieu of the owl that got away, I have pics of this bird, seen in April, to remind me of what might have been.

Ghowl3Apr102015

Great Horned Owl – Stand In

GHowl2Ap102015

GHowlAp102015

Owleyes

Those Big yellow Eyes!

 

 

When you got nothing to say, a funny bird picture might suffice…

It’s summer proper now, fall migrations are weeks away and I’m not seeing as many birds as I’d like. Summer’s the problem. Most aren’t singing, so harder to spot in heavy foliage. They’re rearing young – busy. Ah well. I make another trip to Martindale to search for the Bullock’s Orioles I missed when the tree service people showed up on site a week or so ago. They’re supposed to have fledglings now. The Orioles, not the tree service people. I do hear a Bullock-type chortle in the cottonwoods, see Robins and Waxwings briefly but spot no pretty Orioles. Not my day, I guess.

With no birding adventures to report and no new birds recorded, I got nothing. Going through my photos, I find shots of a Red-crested Cardinal from Maui that I found funny at the time. The bird even looked slightly embarrassed, as if I’d happened on him in the middle of some private and exclusive exercises. He shot me a look of reluctant approbation and carried on. I make a quick search for birds that surprised me, made me smile. Mostly, the experience was too fleeting and I too slow with my camera. Still…

 

Redcrstcardx

 

 

 

 

RDCrstcardFeb212017

RcCard6xFe212017x

Red-crested Cardinal – Yoga

SLBckgulmar152015x

Slaty-backed Gull – Washington – No Pictures, Please!

Annasx

Anna’s Hummingbird – Victoria – Pilates

ravenuosidedownc

Raven – Observatory Hill, Victoria – So relaxed!

IIwiFe212017x

I’Iwi – Maui, Hosmer Grove – Coming Right At you!

Wrentit3x

Wrentit – California – Yes, I’m only two inches tall. Want to make something out if it!

 

Flycatchers, Nutcrackers and Bighorn Sheep

SimilakvallJu142017

Down into the Valley of the Similkameen

I’m crossing the Coast Range and then following the Similkameen River down into the Okanagan. It’s not far – a few hundred miles – but the birds are different on the other side of the mountains. I make a quick stop at Manning Park Lodge where the temperature is five degrees Celsius and a dozen or more grey and black Clark’s Nutcrackers search the picnic area for leftovers. Engaging birds these. Columbian Ground Squirrels hustle around too – beautiful little creatures with their tiger belly stripes. If I wasn’t in a sort of a hurry, I’d go up to the alpine meadows to look for more high country birds and animals. Next time.

ClrksnutJu142017

Clark’s Nutcracker

GMgrndsq

Columbian Ground Squirrel

Back on the twisting, mountain road, I follow the rushing Similkameen to Princeton and then on to Osoyoos. The town is at the northern tip of the great Sonoran Desert – and it’s wine country. It’s twenty-five degrees now – much more like June than it was on the coast. I pass towering Vaseaux Cliffs and make a stop, hoping for a pink, black and green Lewis’s Woodpecker, White-throated Swifts and maybe a Rock Wren or two. I hear the Lewis’s and two Rock Wrens, plus a Canyon Wren. A California Quail hops up on a post, sees me, and makes himself scarce. The Swifts are here but almost impossible to photograph, flying, reputedly, at up to 200 miles per hour!

Quailju142017

California Quail

Something bawls, cow-like, on the cliff face high above. A Bighorn ewe looking for something, her lamb maybe. She’s not  lost, and not trapped. While I watch she drops out of sight momentarily. Heart-stopping. But there she is, twenty feet or more down, secure on a barely discernible ledge. I keep half an eye on her. I’m curious and sympathetic. Finally, my birds recorded and the sun moving towards the horizon, I’m ready to find my motel. I watch the ewe for a few more minutes and then leave her to her search.

EweJun142017

Bighorn Ewe

Ew2June142017

Bighorn Ewe – Halfway down (she’s there!)

Next morning, I’m up early, walking the dike along a canal crossed by Road 22. The morning is beautiful and birds are plentiful.  Black and white Bobolinks disappear into the long grass before I can take a picture. At least hidden five Sora Rails whinny in the marshy areas. Willow Flycatchers call – Fitz-bew – all along the dike. A Gray Catbird pops up to check me out and then flies away across the canal. Eastern Kingbirds and Western Wood Peewees are plentiful.

FitzbewJu142017

Willow Flycatcher

WWpeeweeJu142016

Western Wood Peewee

CatbirdJu142017

Gray Catbird

EstkingbJu142017

Eastern Kingbird

It’s time to take my leave. I’m only here for  few hours and I’ve got a long drive home. Out of curiosity more than anything else, I drive to Vaseaux, get out and search the cliff face. At first I don’t see anything but there she is, standing vigil on a spur of rock a thousand feet up. Is it the same animal as yesterday? I don’t know – Bighorn ewes all look the same to me. If it is the one from yesterday then there’s much more to these animals than I thought.

Ew4Ju142017

Vigil – Bighorn Ewe

 

I forget what the second thing was…

BrmJu102017

Broom and Roses

It’s one of those days when the birding gods decide to take a picnic – with some other birder. I set out this morning to locate birds at three different locations, and ended up being foiled, as Oilcan Harry says, at all three. The first two don’t matter much – traffic disruptions cancelled these out. The third should have been a piece of cake – Bullock’s Orioles at Martindale, from one to umpteen depending on whose report you read. Singing loudly too, so hard to miss. It’s a nice day-peaceful. I gear up. I’m ready for Orioles when, from out of the blue, two tree service trucks roar up. Out go the cones, out come the chain saws, and that’s all she wrote.

An hour later, for want of a better plan, I’m at the Munn Road power line. Not a bad fallback it turns out. The sun is out, the trail verges are thick with cad-yellow broom and Nootka Rose. In fact, the roses perfumes the air. And birds seem to be everywhere. I even discover the remains of an ancient civilization in the form of a mysterious trilith – like Stonehenge. You just have to unfocus your eyes!

WCSparrjun102017

White-crowned Sparrow

 

Downyjune102017

Downy Woodpecker

 

WaxWngMay262017

Cedar Waxwing

Nootrosejune102017

Nootka Rose

olivesdflymy172016

Olive-sided Flycatcher

RufHumMy242015

Rufous Hummingbird

Cottotlju102017

Eastern Cottontail

TrilithJu82017

Mysterious Stonehenge-like Trilith

 

Road Trip

LazbuntMay262017c

Lazuli Bunting – W.L. Finley Refuge

Once a year I take my 86 Alfa Romeo on a birding trip, usually to Oregon. My route this year, down I-5, though the Willamette Valley, up the Oregon coast and then looping back to BC, takes me past some of the best birding spots in the northwest – Nisqually, Baskett Slough, W.L. Finley, Fern Ridge, George Reifel. The car is sparkling and bright at the start, dust covered and bug plastered when I ease her into the her parking bay at home. What lingers is the remembrance of the joy of motoring through incredibly beautiful countryside, top down, listening to snatches of bird song, alive to the smell of blossoms, new hay, and the medicinal aromas of conifers — and of the wonderful birds I saw and heard along the way.

AmBittMay262017

Bittern – Fern Ridge Refuge

SandhillMay262017

Sandhill Crane – George Reifel Refuge

GrosbkMay262027

Black-headed Grosbeak –  W.L.Finley Refuge

Towhee3FinMay262017

Spotted Towhee with Caterpillars

RedBrstsapMay262017

Red-Breasted Sapsucker – W.L. Finley

P1000119

Live Moss – Fern Ridge

MarWrenMay262017

Marsh Wren – Nisqually

Alfaoregon.jpg

Alfa Bird – Oregon