I’m very fond of Pileated Woodpeckers. They’re large and spectacular and not uncommon. I haven’t had a good view of one this year however. They keep eluding me — like rare birds. I see the big holes they’ve drilled in path-side trees. I hear their loud drilling, like the hammering of a tipsy carpenter. Of the bird, I’ve had only glimpses. Individuals flying mostly. This morning however…
Yesterday we had storms here and the rain bucketed down. Today, morning sunlight penetrates even the densest thickets. After a seriously wet day, Golden-crowned Sparrows feed as if making up for lost time. We tend to overlook common birds though many are strikingly beautiful.
Around here it’s hard not to encounter Coast Blacktail deer. Most days, I see a half dozen or more. Bucks in rut seem particularly oblivious, driven as they are by the mating urge. Today, a fine-looking fellow and at least one doe wander the shoreline within meters of passersby. He’s alert, watching and sniffing the air. What’s at stake? I took shots of two big bruisers from the neighbourhood on another October day. They’re not buddies. They’ve already had a huge battle on the roads and in gardens. Now they’re exhausted, pausing to catch their breath before they go at it again. There’s a lot at stake and they won’t stop only when one breaks off combat and leaves the field. The winner gets the does, like the chap in the bay above. The loser gets nothing. Not that a victorious buck can feel secure. There’s always a challenger.
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Augarten Park, Vienna
I’m up early hoping to pick up a few Vienna birds before Augarten Park wakes up. The preschool isn’t yet open and early morning joggers are few. Likewise, the porcelain manufactory in Augarten Palace (established in the 18th century) is still closed. So is its pleasant cafe, which is too bad. You can buy a teacup in the shop for 500 euro (sans tea) here if that’s your thing.
Flak Tower
The formal lanes of trees can confuse a newcomer so I use the enormous World War Two flak towers looming over the western side of the gardens as reference points. The entrance to the street or ‘gasse’ we’re staying on is in the opposite direction. Hard to believe now that this area was subject to heavy fighting in 1945 when die-hard Nazis fought the Russians for these massive reinforced concrete anti-aircraft fortresses. You can still see bullet holes and shell craters on the upper levels. Nowadays, the towers provide vantage points for the occasional Peregrine Falcon but little else I think. No Peregrines today, which means birds in the formal gardens might be active. Nothing quietens bird life so much as a cruising falcon with the afterburners on. The park’s many Hooded Crows, cocky and self-assured, don’t seem bothered by much. I fancy they’d treat the rumour of a raptor with studied disdain.
Hooded Crow
European Blackbird
In the cool of early morning I saw few birds and then only briefly but as the sun climbs higher more appear. Even so, an unseasonably warm October has helped trees keep their leaves and their avian residents are hard to spot — noisy but invisible. They have to get hungry and at last they do. A pair of busy Nuthatches investigate a crack in the trunk of a mighty oak. Nearby a squad of European Blackbirds work a patch of shrubbery. A European Robin appears. I still call them English Robins, because my English parents did. Cute little guys — the robins, I mean, not my parents. No relation to our Robins, these birds. Ours are thrushes and kinfolk to European Blackbirds, also thrushes. The Europeans are a kind of flycatcher.
European Robin
It gets busier as the morning chill lifts. Great Tit fly across the gravelled lanes as they move between forest patches. And there are Blue Tit here too. Related to out Chickadees, they’re busy, hanging from branches and picking up insects lurking on the undersides of leaves. I see several Green Woodpeckers but these large birds vanish into the treetops before I can get a picture. A Great Spotted Woodpecker is more cooperative. This bird makes a guest appearance in the movie ‘The Big Year’ – a non-migratory European bird in western North America. Well, stranger things have happened. And then its time to go, a Viennese coffee and yet another Sacher Torte await. Yes, you can eat Sacher Torte for breakfast.
Nuthatch
Great Spotted Woodpecker
Blue Tit
Burgenland – Salt pond, vineyards and Roe Deer
It’s October 4 and it’s late in the year for Austrian birds, especially migrants. To maximize our chances, V and I elect to take a tour with Leander Khil, the author of a (the) book on Austrian birds, to the salt sloughs around Neusiedelersee, Austria’s large, shallow, steppe lake. The National Park here is partly in Hungary and the terrain seems, to us, very Hungarian, an impression reinforced by a herd of Hungarian Grey Cattle. These animals, once common, almost went extinct. They’ve been brought back from the edge, beautiful beasts with cloud-grey hides and long, black-tipped horns. We also spot a herd of Przewalski’s Horse, sometimes abbreviated to P-Horse. They’re too far off to see properly, much less photograph — a moving band of cinnamon and sand off in the distance. I’m delighted nevertheless. I first read about this last of the wild horse when I was a kid and hoped one day to see them. And now I have.
Hungarian Grey Cattle
P-Horse — Last of the Wild Horses
We pass a romantic-looking hut and draw well complete with bucket and beam, protected by law. Although they look traditional they were ‘made up’ for 1950s era films about the Empress Elizabeth, or Sisi, around whom a kind of cult has grown. They’re now preserved as genuine shepherds’ huts rather than film sets and apparently are described so on tourist brochures. I doubt I’ve ever seen a better example of history as a construct. No picture – sorry, Sisi fans.
Greylag Geese
Curlew
Like most of Europe, Austria has suffered drought for several years. The seasonal salt ponds here have mostly dried up and are empty of shorebirds. A lone Greenshank flies over us, its call reminiscent of our Greater Yellowlegs, its North American cousin. We do spot several Eurasian Curlew happily harvesting bugs from grassy meadows but they’re as happy working the fields as they are the ponds, so the lack of water seems less important to them. Greylag Geese are here in abundance and there are many birds in the air – Skylark, Corn Bunting, European Siskin, Linnet, Goldfinch, Black Redstart and a European Jay. We make a side trip hoping for Crested lark. At first, nothing, but then one scampers out from behind a hay bale, followed by several more. Lovely birds with their pronounced crests. I’m fond of birds with crests. Cedar waxwings are one of my favourite birds. Northern Lapwings, fashionable crests blowing in the breeze, join the favourites list.
Crested Lark
Wheatear
Northern Lapwings
White Wagtail
Corn Bunting
Because the National Park is a late development, much of it consists of scattered patches interrupted by vineyards, their berries protected with nets. Sometimes farmers droop acres of large mesh nets over and between rows and kill hundreds of birds. Proper netting procedure protects the fruit much better and doesn’t destroy birdlife.
The Wrong Way to Protect Grapes
Long-eared Owl
We side trip to a village cemetery where people are hard at work cleaning and maintaining graves, so unlike what generally happens in North America. We’re here for Long-eared Owls, which roost in this graveyard in winter. It’s V. who spots the first and then a second and finally a third. Even when she points them out to me I find it hard to see the birds. The owls located, Leander takes to a wayside with a view for a delicious lunch of local products provide by St. Martin’s Therme and Lodge. Fantastic. Thanks Leander for being such an excellent and knowledgeable guide!
Roundhouse Railyards
A warm late summer day, or will be once the sun is up. September has a faded glory I especially like, with a touch of melancholy in it — a string quartet replacing summer’s brass band. Today I’m searching for rare sparrows, a Brewer’s at Panama Flats and a Lark Sparrow at the old rail yards in Vic West. Both birds are common in Arizona, certainly not here. I try for the Lark first. The yard is more or less deserted but there are zero birds up yet. After three quarters of an hour of fruitless searching, I’m ready to give up. I’m almost back at the car when I see a single bird coming in, a sparrow from its undulating flight. It lands next to the open door of a construction worker’s pickup, ignores the heavy metal music emanating from within, and begins to feed. It’s the Lark. Birds are weird sometimes! More and more pickups arrive and the noise level rises. Time to move on to Panama Flats and some peace and quiet. The Lark Sparrow couldn’t care less about that, apparently.
Lark Sparrow
At the Flats it’s warmer and brighter. The wintertime wet meadows are now dry fields, knee-deep in snow-white Chamomile with their butter-yellow centers. The flowers’ powerful musky perfume, if ‘perfume’ is the right word, clings to my clothing as I wade through. Not unpleasant but strong!
Panama Flats
Head-high Cattails, Queen Ann’s Lace, Horse-weed and Thistle, crowd in along the dyke trail. A pudgy vole sees me just in time and panics, his round rear end (is bum inappropriate?) disappearing into the weeds. I track him through rustling leaves, scurrying loudly away. He needs to be more careful. A Northern Harrier just floated past and there’s a dark Merlin hunting nearby, lightning fast and deadly. Incautious voles don’t last long anywhere.
Vole in a Hurry (recreation)
This is sparrow land. I catch a glimpse of the Brewer’s in a stunted willow but mostly it’s Savannah, White-crowned and Lincoln’s Sparrows that populate the Flats, shooting left and right out of the taller vegetation like tiny, spring-loaded feathered missiles. Lots of Goldfinches here too, flitting through the branches of the taller willows. It’s the end of summer and birds are gathering for pre-migration, a wonderful time. The rains will come soon, the rampant plant growth will die down and the ponds will refill just in time to welcome the flocks of returning waterfowl and shore birds.
Savannah Sparrow
Lincoln’s Sparrow
Goldfinch
I’m scratching, alternating between the mosquito bite on the heel of my hand and those on my ankles. Makes me think back to when my mom used to dot us boys with calamine lotion, which helped, I think, but not much. We had lots of mosquitoes where I grew up. In summer, the kids in my neighbourhood looked like they’d contracted some kind of plague, the symptoms of which were abundant bright pink blotches and continued scratching. But I digress. I’m at Swan Lake again in spite of continuing forest fire smoke. My first bird of the day should have clued me in. The top of a very tall conifer ought to put you out of the bug zone. Not so for the Osprey who, in spite of biting insects and smoke, manages a ‘see if I care’ look. No bug repellent for wild things!
Osprey Under Attack
I’m determined to bird today so I carry on. As long as I don’t linger in any one spot, I seem to be okay. Speed doesn’t make for easy birding however. Nothing seems to want to stay put, like me. A noisy gaggle of young Waxwings zips through the higher branches, too skittish to pause for pictures. Likewise, a Bewick’s Wren appears and poses just as I turn my camera off to save the battery, and then ducks away as the machine blinks back to life. Towhees and Fox Sparrows are especially furtive. After forty minutes of fruitless searching, I’m almost done. I have just one more trail to try. It takes me under the trees and into deep shade, which is suicidal. Never mind. I hurry like I’m crossing No-Man’s Land to get to my home trench. I’m literally turning on my heel to make a run for it when I spot a young Great Horned Owl. Figures. Now I don’t care about mosquitoes — well, that’s a lie. Still, with such a beautiful bird and such beautiful light, sacrifices had to made. Now, where did I put that calamine!
Smoke Over the Lake
It’s smoky, even here on the coast. Makes one long for a cold, wet February day — I’m kidding. As for birding, the migration hasn’t really started yet although the odd rarity is showing up here and there. Not much to see really. I chased reports of a Franklin’s Gull for days and never saw it. Luck of the draw, I guess. With most of the marshes dry, I’m back at Swan Lake, now green with duckweed. The smoke cuts the light and many of the trails are shadowed, almost eerie.
Other than swallows, most of the birds I see are recently fledged — feathered teenagers noisily blundering about wondering where mom has gone. A baker’s dozen of immature Cedar Waxwings flips Hawthorn berries onto the path — and me. They’re too deep in the foliage for decent pictures. A pretty little Warbling Vireo is in the berry patch too, as are a couple of young Olive-sided Flycatchers. Lots of activity but mostly out of sight. The flycatchers are not often seen here, at least by me, and I’m not sure what they’re doing amongst the berries. I guess bugs aren’t the only thing on the menu! Out in the meadow, a flock of young Chipping Sparrows don’t mind posing and I finally get a chance to take a decent shot.
Chipping Sparrow
Back at the Nature House a couple of young Brown-headed Cowbirds keep company with a neat Savannah Sparrow, their surrogate parent perhaps. I can’t imagine how she feeds these monsters! Strangely enough, I’ve seen no raptors here at all. Once the migration begins in earnest, the young birds will have to wizen up quickly. A Copper’s Hawk would make short work of the goofy Northern Flicker trying to make friends with a less than interested Northern Cottontail
Swan Lake Trail
Brown-headed Cowbird
Northern Flicker
Disinterested Bunny
A Perfect Little River…
The woods around my hometown are beautiful in May. It’s a great time to walk up the Sydenham River towards Inglis Falls. I spent many boyhood hours on, or in, or near the Sydenham. In all seasons too. That hillside over there – the snow leaves it first. It’s a good place to cook a can of beans over a campfire and lie back to bask in the late winter sun. Dry, clean ground in a world of snow, the smell of wood smoke and caramelized beans. A memory. Around me the Trilliums and Dogtooth Violets are coming in nicely. And the greens – soft, warm, luminous and arrestingly pretty.
The burgeoning foliage has its downside for a birder. It’s much harder to spot the little guys. I trace a pert Ovenbird by its ‘teacher, teacher, teacher’ song. A line of bouncing leaves marks the passage of a Nashville Warbler intent on bug picking, ignoring a tail-flicking Redstart. Overhead a Baltimore Oriole flashes orange. Higher up above the ‘Mile Drive’ a couple of male Ruffed Grouse start to drum – the slow ‘whumpf — wumpf — wumpf’ quickly increasing in tempo and climaxing in a muffled and impressive super-grouse-sized roar.
I cut away to avoid a flooded section of path. My detour takes me past a memory – a patch of jumbled dolomite where long ago I stashed and later lost a canvas knapsack. A peripatetic porcupine, or several, ate it right down to the buckles. Nothing left but metal. In one night!
I lost a perfectly good cheese whiz and onion sandwich wrapped in wax paper to the prickly little guys too. Today I’d worry about the harm the white bread and canvas might do to the wildlife. I’m not sure I was feeling quite so equable at the time.
Red Trillium
Ovenbird
Nashville Warbler
Redstart
Baltimore Oriole
Redwing Blackbirds
I leave the river and head for the country roads. As always I check the rare bird reports wherever I go. The latest surprises me – three or four Snowy Owls seen in Grey and Bruce counties. Right now? Amazing! It’s the last bird I expected to see. Likely I won’t, not with my bird luck. I take up the chase anyway. It’s a compulsion after all and not entirely rational. I spend quite a few hours searching the countryside. I pick up a few good birds – wild Turkeys, a lone Sandhill Crane, an equally lone Broad-winged Hawk. No Owl though. By this time, I’m famished and I’d really like to stop for a late lunch. One last road to try and then I’ll stop. Just when I’m about to turn back, there it is – calm as can be, sitting on a boulder at the edge of a swale that’s likely teaming with rodents. There’s no way I can get close enough for a good photo but I’m happy, thrilled actually.
After lunch, I head back to the sparkling Sydenham, likely for the last time this year. Family dinner tonight and a visit with one of my cousins. Tomorrow I’ll head south to Toronto and then the flight home. I’ll leave early just in case there’s a rare bird or two to ‘pick up’ on the way down. I’ve still got the bug.
Snowy Owl
Tree Swallow
Redstart – Female
Wild Turkey
The Mile Drive
A River Runs Through It
I’m out early, walking the trails, enjoying the morning air perfumed with Sweet Cicely, which white flowers carpet sections of the woods. Vaguely, eucalyptus-like, to me at any rate. Bird song everywhere too. Magical. Not much moving in the bushes yet. I have hopes for the boardwalk. No wind this morning and the light is great – photographer’s light. Somewhere in the reeds, a Green Heron squawks reveille and various sparrows kick in. I’d like to linger but it’s time to go. I’m meeting my brother at the Visitor’s Center and I know the parking this time of year will be brutal.
Point Pelee Woodland
Point Pelee Boardwalk
What the early morning light reveals
White-throated Sparrow
V and I were here last fall but most of the warblers had departed, and the forest green, so vibrant now had muted. Scads of Sharp-shinned Hawks overflying the peninsula didn’t help the birding much but you take what you can get.
Timing is everything with birds – when they’re gone they’re gone. Right now, they’re here. Just. Many migrants have already passed through on their way to the Boreal Forest. Not all the Blackburnian Warblers though. One pops up beside the path. A favourite of mine, the Blackburnian. Striking little bird.
Blackburnian Warbler
This year Baltimore Orioles seem to be the flavour of the day. Now that the sun is up, they’re everywhere, flashing orange, black and yellow in the canopy. Yellow Warblers are also abundant, lisping out their ‘sweet, sweet, sweet, I’m so sweet song’ from every thicket. Brother Steve makes the discovery of the day – a Common Nighthawk snoozing on a branch, it’s chest covered with cryptic hieroglyphs. Out at the tip, a squadron of Common Terns have found something interesting. Delicate, pretty birds, agile on the wing. They’re hungry and so, reminded, are we. Time for lunch!
Common Terns
Eastern Painted Turtle
Baltimore Oriole
Common Nighthawk
Bird Noetz 