ANOTHER STRANGE BIRD - TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

This afternoon I went to the marina for a meeting an information center for local residents to sign petitions and send letters of protest to the Ontario provincial government over a poorly-researched wind turbine project proposed for off-shore in Pigeon Bay (the area you see here so often in my Skywatch and other photos). I'll probably post more about the meeting later, but for now, I'm wanted to show you this photo I took at the marina park of what I'm almost certain is another leucistic bird.



This fellow was not concerned about me at all, and helpfully even walked closer to me as I snapped away with my little 3x-zoom Canon! This bird was by itself, although there were other starlings in the vicinity. That's what I think it could be, based on the proportions of the body compared to the beak All starlings this time of year (except juveniles) should have ivory-colored beaks, but if this is a case of leucism, all bets are off. It was the right size for a starling, it strutted, not hopped, like a starling, and had the short tail that didn't extend beyond the wing tips like a starling. So I think it's a starling, but I'd like to hear what other birders think. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can all agree this is a very interesting bird!

Update after some further research. Could this be a Ruddy Turnstone?! The beak doesn't turn up at the tip the way my field guide illustration shows it, but the actual photos at Google images don't show it turning up that much either. If it is a Ruddy Turnstone, someone show tell it to stop eating midges in the grass like a starling and go over to the beach and...turn some stones!

STARLINGS KICK THE TIRES

With the last few evening being a little milder, and barely a breeze, I stepped out my back door to stand for a reflective moment in the twilight air. But all was not quiet at that late hour. A starling was busy checking out my neighbor's purple martin house. I could hear the almost frantic metallic scrabblings of her (or maybe his - I don't know who handles the main house hunting duties among starling couples) feet against the metal structure. That colony nest house hasn't been cleaned out in years, maybe decades, so I wondered what all the fuss was about. Do starlings have the ability to understand the concept of "making room"? Was the bird trying to move used nest material around to create more living space for this year? Or perhaps was even trying to evict some of the old twigs, and start over? These are questions I don't have any answers for, but maybe one of you readers will know.


This will be my fourth spring at this lake shore location. When I first moved in, a robin was nesting in a well-sheltered and concealed spot over the same neighbor's downspout. For the next two years the nest was relined and reused, until it was abandoned, probably because it finally got to be too tall to the limited space under the eaves. It's such a prime nesting spot, I'm tempted to try and knock the old nest down, so it can be reused. The job would take a step ladder and maybe a good stout stick. Would any starlings in the yard wonder what on earth I was doing?

DOIN' THE STARLING STRUT

When it was so bitter cold and the wind so very fierce, I tossed some birdseed out my back porch door, into a more sheltered corner. Now today it's several degrees above zero and the sun is bright bright bright. Pearl and I watched a group of starlings pecking at the seed remnants, and Pearl was doing that low chattering thing cats do when they see something they'd like to pounce on. I went out with the camera and took this shot of the starlings' tiny tracks. I tried to follow their lead, as you can see, but I just don't have their style.

There haven't been many birds at my feeder today. I call them "foul weather friends" because they only come around for food when it's really nasty out. But that's really the way it should be. They probably can find enough natural food to eat on the mild days, and only need my feeders when they really need to stoke their inner furnaces against a big temperature dip. I topped the feeders up again this afternoon. Well, guys, I said to the empty lilac branches, it's here whenever you want it.

FOUR STRONG WINDS and a FUNERAL

Sunday was the worst, with round-the-clock 60 km/40 mile-per-hour blasts off the lake. The wind took the lilac bush in its teeth and shook it like a rag toy, then slung the birdfeeder into the yard, where it skittered across the crusted snow. This morning I picked up the pieces, and determined it was repairable with some wire and duct tape.

All day Sunday a mixed group of smaller birds tucked themselves away on some bushes in the corner of my neighbor’s house, keeping as much out of the wind as possible. A brown-streaked Cooper’s hawk kept hanging around, counting on its very presence to frighten the birds into flight, and thus becoming a meal for the quick-winged accipiter, but if it caught anything on the wing, any showers of feathers would have been whisked away before they could tell their story.

This morning I discovered one small casualty – a beautiful little female redwing blackbird among the lilac suckers. No sign of predation; nothing disturbed. Perhaps she was old, or ill, or maybe the night was just too cold and she succumbed to hypothermia – something that takes many birds each winter. I’ve left her there, perfectly laid out as she was, for her confreres come and pay their respects. And they do; here’s how I know:

Once when I was driving in the Alberta foothills, a flock of goldfinches flew in front of the truck I was behind. I could see what had happened (you never tailgate on those dust-choked backroads if you want to breathe) and gently braked. A female had been hit and dropped straight into the dirt. Instantly, a bright black-and-yellow male turned, flew back to her and perched on her lifeless body. A few other goldfinches gathered at the roadside, waiting for news. He cocked his head, shifted his tiny weight a few times on his slender feet until he had assured himself of whatever it was he sought regarding her, and then they all flew off. Before leaving myself, I scooped up her still-warm body and laid her in some of the weeds she’d loved in life.

SIGN OF THE TIMES

I saw another sign yesterday that late summer is getting ready to shift into fall. It was a huge flock of starlings. First they were lining the wires as I drove past the open fields and the golf course, then they rose as one, in a dark amoeba-like cloud that changed shape like a single living organism. I think in a certain sense, they were one organism, in the same sense that naturalists sometimes talk about a beehive or an ant colony as a collective. What a wondrous thing it is to see! If I could have safely pulled over and watched for a while, I would have. When I got home, I went to YouTube to look for videos of bird flocks in flight, and as usual YouTube did not disappoint. There are a lot of videos there of flocks changing shape on the wing; I thought this one was one of the nicest.






And to go with it, here’s a poem I wrote back in the late 80s when I lived in Calgary, Alberta, which includes a reference to a large flock of Bohemian Waxwings.


















Photo from Shutterstock, location unknown
Video from YT member dylanwinter 1
Poem by D. Godin