THERE'S AT LEAST ONE EVERY SPRING

Many birdwatchers will know this feeling, I've no doubt. It's early in the morning, the silvery half-light is just beginning to infiltrate the bedroom, and dawn is at least a hour away. You're snuggled under the covers, not totally asleep, but drifting deliciously, knowing that today you can sleep in - you don't have to get up til you feel like it. You're just about to roll over when you hear it: a bird you don't recognize, a bird you're certain you've never heard before and isn't on your life list. But you know from experience in springs past that it's still way too dark to make an ID, even if you could get out there to catch a glimpse of it. And besides, by the time you did get yourself up and into half-decent shape to duck out your back door, the bird will almost certainly have moved on. So you lie there, trying desperately to memorize the song so you can find it later. The one I heard this morning was a lively, almost vaudevilian "yada-yada-ya-da-da...buzz." I got excited! This one is so distinctive, I just know I'm going to be able to find it! (insert Jeopardy buzzer noise here)

I have 2 CD sets of birdsongs. One is "53 All-American Bird Songs and Calls" and the other is a 3-CD set of Eastern/Central birds from the prestigious Roger Tory Peterson "Birding By Ear" series. I laid down some serious bucks for that baby, let me tell you. And between the two, I have never ID'd a single bird! For one thing, using them is very frustrating, because they don't have a separate band for each bird. The 53 birds is grouped in sets of three, and the Peterson isn't grouped at all. You can't FF the remote to find anything in that grab-bag of songs and calls! So I made some coffee and went online to check out the WAV files. At least there you can check out songs one at a time, but...but...it's still a feathered needle in a giant haystack of possible birdsongs. Besides, by the time you've listened to a couple dozen warblers and vireos, you're starting to doubt you'd recognize the little performer if he was sitting right on top of your monitor. And so, the sun is now up, the bird is long gone, either to continue migrating northward, or back to sit on the nest. And here I sit, too. The coffee's gone cold, CDs are scattered on table, foiled once again! Sound familiar, anyone?

Feeder photo: "It wasn't any of these..."

BIRDS OUTDOORS AND IN

Yesterday's rain and dim light lasted much of the day. This picture of a Swainson's thrush is barely worth posting, but I have a soft spot for thrushes, so here s/he is. This morning very early, I heard one plaintive flute trill in the half-light. I'm not any good at differentiating thrushes by ear, so I can't say if it was the little Swainson's. I lifted my head off the pillow and opened one eye (why does that help to hear better?) but then a loud pushy bluejay announced his arrival, and I heard no more from the thrush!



Late in the afternoon, it cleared and brightened, and that 's when a small flock of American goldfinches showed up at the niger feeders, the males burning like bright little suns all their own. I love this shot of the male and female pair - has she fallen head over heels for him, or is it just because of the seed port location?





The tiny bunch of white-throated sparrows has moved on. One day was all they spent here, but I always keep one in my library. It started one day when I was wandering around a craft store, I saw an unpainted wooden birdhouse, and an idea formed. Next aisle over I found a small decorative bird with pink and purple feathers. I painted the birdhouse sky blue and dabbed some sponge trees on the sides, and repainted the bird to look like a white-throat. Then I took a popsicle stick (orange-flavor, I think it was) and glued it across the front with the homeowner's name written on it. I don't think white-throated sparrows nest in houses; mine may be the only one.

GETTING READY FOR THE MIGRATION

(click on photos)

Living within sight of Point Pelee, I see a tremendous increase of migrating birds in my neighborhood. While many are passing through on their way to the mosquito-rich boreal lands, all the summer residents of SW Ontario will move back into their summer residences, build nests and look for food. Since I feed birds all winter and much of the summer, too, I like to make it as safe for them as possible. Soon I'll be moving the main seed feeder away from the lilac bush and back to the red maple by the breakwall. That means it's time to renew the "anti-window strike" system on the back windows. This consists of horizontal lengths of clothesline across the top and bottom of the bank of windows, and then fluttering yellow "crime scene" tape strung in between.

This year I'm experimenting with two types of arrangement. The window in the corner (where my computer is) has the "old" kind. In the last year, the tape has gotten thinner as the manufacturer cuts corners to keep the price reasonable. My first tape lasted almost two years, but lately it's only lasted for a few storms. So the rest of the windows have poly rope strings on them, with tape strips added. We'll see what works best. I have all summer to test it. It's easy to replace a broken strip in summer, but not when it's bitter cold, with a mean wind and snow up to my knees! Whatever goes up in November has to last! This year the strips all ripped, and I had one tree sparrow casualty. He was arguing over a patch of seed with another tree sparrow, and they
took to the air in an aerial dogfight. When they came up on the window, the second sparrow was able to bank a turn in time, but the first one never had a chance. I don't know if flutter-strips would have helped at that speed. I'll still get the occasional strike, but with the strips, it usually a soft hit, and the bird can fly off. The big problem is that these windows have that thermal film on them, and while that makes them R-factor friendly, the reflection of the lake and sky would be treacherous without something to slow the birds down. So, here are a couple of photos of my backyard - open and ready for business!

HOW DO THEY KNOW?

It seems that from the moment the ice is gone in the Lake each spring until it returns in winter, there are times when all the diving and skimming birds spontaneously and mysteriously congregate in huge rafts. It’s obvious they do it because there are equally huge schools of fish near the surface – sometimes it even looks like the water is doing a slow boil, as the fish launch themselves a few inches above water. It brings the gulls and terns and cormorants from near and far. Occasionally even a great blue heron will flap around, trying awkwardly, and without success, to get in on the feast. It always makes me stop and watch; it’s such a phenomenon. I wish I knew how they knew. Seemingly, it happens out of nowhere. Maybe one bird flies over and sees the shadow of the school, then that bird tells another, and that one tells another and so on and so on…that would do it. Or maybe it’s something else, like bird telepathy. Personally, I believe in that, and not just for birds, but for all species, ourselves included. Some call it M-field energy; others call it the 100th Monkey Syndrome, it’s also been called “subtle energy.” It’s the level of consciousness where we are all connected, and information can pass between individuals and groups by non-conventional means.

Well, whatever the answer is, the gathering of birds serves to remind us that there is still much wonder to be found in the world. Because I live near Point Pelee, in Canada, I am fortunate to be able to witness both the spring and fall bird migrations, plus the fall monarch butterfly migration. And on occasion, the fish and birds come together in the waves just beyond my backyard.

Click photo to enlarge