I am not an expert photographer and this post is not intended for experts. I became interested in wildlife photography when I was planning a trip to Tanzania in 2015. It was likely to be a once-in-a-lifetime trip and I wanted to come back with some good wildlife photos. So I obtained a decent camera and lens and took a short photography course before we left. The results were encouraging, and I could see that with more knowledge and experience I ought to be able to capture even better images.
In a way photography is like birding: the is an infinite amount of information, so there is always something new to learn. And like birding, photography rewards both study and practice. Through trial and error I have learned a fair amount about the craft of photography over the last few years. This post is intended to share things I have learned on my journey that may be of use to other aspiring photographers.
Understanding Exposure Compensation
In this first installment I want to talk about exposure compensation. It’s a camera function that many amateur nature photographers I have met seem unaware of, but in certain situations it is a really important tool to ensure you get the image you want.
I won’t get into a long explanation of how camera light metering systems work. Suffice it to say that most of the time they work very well. But there are a few situations in wildlife photography where left to its own devices the camera will make the wrong decision. Knowledge of how to compensate for this will help you get the right exposure and avoid disappointment. Those situations are:
Backlighting
Shadow
Wetness and Whiteness
Backlighting
Let’s start with a common situation: birds up in the treetops, or in the case, a bird on a wire. You see a Mourning Dove; your camera sees a mostly light background with one dark object. So it averages out the exposure and you are left with something like the image in photo 1 – a dark blob. After I took the first image I adjusted the exposure compensation two steps to the left (to -0.7) and photo 2 was the result. The bird is correctly exposed and all its plumage details are visible (e.g. the thin blue eye ring).
Of course I could have adjusted the exposure
of photo 1 in post-processing, but the best-looking images start with a file
that is correctly exposed in the first place. This is particularly important
if, like most photographers, you shoot in a lossy format such as JPEG. Each
time you edit a JPEG file more data is lost, so the closer you get to correct
exposure in the first place, the better your final image will look.[1]
Shadow
Metering systems also struggle to correctly
expose objects in shadow. Photo 3 shows a pair of Hadada Ibis from that trip to
Tanzania. The birds are underexposed because they are in shadow and there is
bright sunlight on the right side of the image. The metering system tried to
average out the exposure, which left the birds in the dark. In this case
positive exposure compensation – moving the exposure one or two steps to the
right – would have produced a better image (photo 4).
Wetness and Whiteness
Bright spots also cause trouble for the metering system. In wildlife photography this often shows up when photographing in bright sunlight. Anything white or wet can end up being overexposed even if the rest of the exposure is good. So gulls, terns and white pelicans are a problem, and so too are turtles and frogs when the sun is shining on their shells or skin.
In the case of bright spots, the issue is that the image may look properly exposed, but on closer examination the highlights are blown out. Blowing out, also known as clipping, happens where the intensity of light in a certain area exceeds the camera’s ability to capture information. So a blown highlight may look white, but if you look closely you will see that there is no detail in that part of the image.
Consider photo 5 – a Ring-billed Gull in
sunlight. The image looks properly exposed, but if you zoom in (photo 6) you
will see that there is no feather detail – it’s just a blank field of white.
Sadly, blown highlights are on thing that cannot be corrected in
post-processing, as there is no data to work with.
Here again, exposure compensation comes to the rescue. In photo 7 I deliberately underexposed the image by adjusting exposure compensation two steps to the left (-0.7). In post-processing I was able to increase the exposure so the gull is properly exposed, but as a blow-up shows (photo 8) the plumage details in the white area are fully visible.
Using Exposure Compensation
If you want to experiment with exposure compensation, the first step is to find how to adjust exposures on your camera. I recommend reading the relevant section of the manual, which will show you where the adjustments are made. On most DSLR camera bodies you will find a button that looks like photo 9. On bridge cameras, it is more likely to be a multi-function button. Typically you will need to hold down this button while moving one of the rotating dials or switches to adjust exposure up or down. In either case you will be able to see your adjustments on the exposure compensation slider, which is usually visible in your camera viewfinder.
Photo 9
Three Important Tips
1. The monitor (LCD
viewscreen) on the back of your camera allows you to test and adjust. So when
you come across your quarry and the lighting may be problematic (backlit,
shadow, wet or white) take a photo to start off, then if the bird or beast
stays around, look at your monitor to see if the exposure is good. If not, try
an adjustment of two steps, reshoot, and check the monitor. Continue testing
and adjusting until you either get the perfect exposure, or more likely, the
bird of beast absconds.
2. Most cameras
have a function that will show blown highlights in the monitor. For Nikon
cameras it is cunningly named Highlight Display. Again, check your camera
manual to see how to activate this function. When activated, if you take an
image and look at the monitor you will see flashing lights (photographers call
these “blinkies”) in areas where there are blown highlights. This quick check
will let you know whether you need to adjust the exposure. Note that for
backlit objects, if the object itself is correctly exposed there will probably
be blown highlights in the sky behind it. This is not really a problem other
than the fact that the sky tends to end up white rather than blue.
3. In most cases
your camera will not automatically default back to the zero position once you
have taken an image. I won’t tell you how many times I have forgotten to take
account of this and taken a quick snap of a rapidly-departing bird only to find
that exposure compensation was set for shadows and the image was mostly blown
out. It seems that the rarer the bird, the more likely it is that this happens! So you will want to keep exposure
compensation in mind as part of your mental checklist.
Happy photography!
[1] Wikipedia has a good
article on JPEG. See the section entitled Typical Usage at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JPEG
In April 2019 Ken Edwards and I headed to Colombia for a tour focused on the endemic species of the Central and Western Andes. After a few adventures we arrived in Cali to be met by Daniel Uribe Restrepo, Executive Director of Birding Tours Colombia. We piled into his new 4X4 and headed into town for a late dinner and an early morning start.
La Minga
Our first port of call was La Minga Ecolodge, in the foothills of the Western Andes. Walking the mountain roads around the lodge produced some excellent finds including Golden-headed Quetzal, Andean Solitaire, a handful of foliage-gleaners, woodcreepers and treehunters, and the rather scarce Spotted Barbtail. At the lodge the feeders and gardens were buzzing with bird life. Hummingbirds included the charismatic Booted Racket-tail, Long-tailed Sylph and Andean Emerald, and there was a fine selection of tanagers. Multicoloured Tanager, my most-wanted bird of the trip, was in the bag by noon.
Multicoloured TanagerBooted Racket-tail
We continued our explorations in the afternoon, then went out
in the evening for a spot of owling. The gardens at the lodge were quite
accommodating – while sneaking up on a roosting Common Potoo we flushed a Common
Pauraque, and later we listened in on a territorial discussion between Mottled
Owls.
After a quick morning stroll along the roads (Chestnut Wood-Quail,
White-throated Quail-Dove), we headed off for Buga. Along the way we visited
Finca Alejandria, where pouring rain did not dissuade a range of birds from
showing off. Key birds included Red-headed Barbet and our first-of-many Andean
Motmots, but the star was the hard-to-find Blue-headed Sapphire. Further down
the road we visited Bosque de San Antonio, where we had great views of an
unusually confiding Colombian Chachalaca, the scarce Rufous-tailed Tyrant, as
well as a handful of tanagers and flycatchers and a nice White-naped
Brushfinch.
Blue-headed Sapphire
Sonso Marsh
After a good breakfast accompanied by Buff-necked Ibises and Blue-headed Parrots at the hotel in Buga, we moved to the conservation area at Sonso Marsh. This is a great area of ponds, wetlands and dry forest, and we spent a pleasant three hours ticking off 65 species therein. The bird of the day was definitely the shy and skulking Sungrebe, which gave us a full five seconds of view as it scuttled across an opening and disappeared into the reeds. It was a life bird for all of us, and a round of high-fives ensued.
Ken and Daniel post-Sungrebe, looking rather pleased.
Other great birds included Anhingas, two of which we spotted soaring in a kettle of Black Vultures; seven species of herons; a smattering of warblers; showy Jet Antbirds; Snail Kites and about one zillion (or 60+ anyway) Spectacled Parrotlets who were nesting in the bamboo roofs of the buildings. Our next site was the Montezuma Rainforest Lodge on the Pacific slope of the Western Andes, so a long road move was in the cards. We stopped for breaks at a couple of small but bird-full wetlands along the way, passed through Pueblo Rico (which is not really a village and certainly not rich), and finally rolled into the lodge at dinnertime.
Snail Kite. If I were a snail I would be keeping a low profile.
PNN Tatamá / Cerro Montezuma
The Lodge is in the heart of the Tatamá National Park, about 52,000 hectares of almost undisturbed rainforest. Birding is done along a rough track that leads up towards the summit of Cerro Montezuma (Montezuma Peak). On our first day at the lodge we girded our loins and departed in the wee hours for the long bumpy ride to the top.
The early start was necessary to have a shot at the skulking
Munchique Wood-Wren. The birding gods were in good mood that day and we soon heard
the beasts, and shortly after had decent views of a pair. Thus fortified we
carried on to the top, where the lodge staff keep a set of well-attended hummingbird
feeders. We gorged (metaphorically) on Empress Brilliants, Violet-tailed Sylphs
and Rufous-gaped Hillstars, as well as our first sightings of the stunning
Velvet-purple Coronet. However, the stars were a pair of rare endemic species:
the endangered Chestnut-bellied Flowerpiercer and the critically endangered
Dusky Starfrontlet. The latter hummingbird was thought to be extinct until a
small population was discovered in 2004. These birds continue to cling onto
life as their favoured habitat disappears, so it was both exciting and sad to
see this brilliant bird at close range.
Munchique Wood-WrenRusty FlowerpiercerDusky Starfrontlet, also (and more aptly) called Glittering Starfrontlet
Cerro Montezuma – Day 2
The next day we worked the middle portion of the road,
feasting (again, metaphorically – no birds were hurt in the making of this
report) on such beauties as Buffy Tuftedcheek, Rufous Spinetail, Tricolored
Brushfinch, and the epic Crested Ant-Tanager (sort of like a Northern Cardinal
on meth). During one of the periodic downpours (there’s a reason they call it
rainforest) we took shelter in the vehicle. Only to protect the camera
equipment you understand. An extended nap ensued.
Lunch back at the lodge meant more hummingbird watching,
with Tawny-bellied Hermits, Green Thorntails, Crowned Woodnymphs, White-necked
Jacobins and Purple-bibbed Whitetips buzzing past our ears. Then back up the
mountain road for Lanceolated Monklet, Zeledon’s Antbird, Ornate Flycatcher,
White-throated Spadebill, Choco Warbler and other treats.
Crowned WoodnymphLanceolated Monklet
On Day Six we had another walk up the road, adding a number of goodies to our list including Crimson-rumped Toucanet, Slaty Spinetail, Parker’s Antbird, Black-headed Brushfinch and Greyish Piculet. Then it was back on the road, heading east to the Central Andes, enlivened by a stop where we bagged Torrent Duck and White-capped Dipper.
Torrent Ducks in their habitat
Otún-Quimbaya
Our next stay was at the lodge at the Otún-Quimbaya Fauna
and Flora Sanctuary. An old stand of beech woods, it hosts several
much-in-demand bird species including the rare Red-ruffed Fruitcrow and endemic
Cauca Guan. Until recently, the Guan was thought to be extinct, but there is a
healthy population in the small reserve. We rolled up and saw both species
before dinner, doubtless due to our superior bird-finding skills, though a
cynic might have noted that both species roost in trees and bushes on the
grounds of the lodge. After a good meal we off in search of owls, and were
rewarded by a good look at a Colombian Screech-Owl (recently lumped with Rufescent
Screech-Owl).
In the wee hours of the next day we headed down the forest road on a mission to find antpittas. Three species of these furtive, skulking forest birds are known to haunt the reserve, and we hoped to catch a glimpse or two. What we did not expect was to see a Moustached Antpitta, the most skulking of the bunch, standing idly by the side of the road. We all goggled at it for a few seconds until, tiring of the glow of our headlights, it vanished into the undergrowth. Shortly thereafter, in a deep and very dark glade, we spotted a Hooded Antpitta. In the days of film a photograph would have been impossible, but I cranked the Nikon up to ISO 12,800 and got what we can charitably call a record shot.
Hooded Antpitta
Cameguadua Marsh
We spent a bit more time patrolling the sanctuary, and added a number of good birds to the trip list including Wattled Guan, White-naped Brushfinch and Variegated Bristle-tyrant. Then it was time to head off to the next port of call, Manizales. Our route included a stop at the Cameguadua Marsh, which is actually a sewage lagoon and a rather good one at that. In just under two hours we spotted 66 species, including some highly desirable ones: Blackish Rail, Great Antshrike and Pale-breasted Spinetail. Herons and waders were well-represented, and Vermillion Flycatchers abundant. In the afternoon we visited Rio Claro near the town of Chinchiná, where we saw a male & female endemic Turquoise Dacnis.
Vermilion Flycatcher (female)
Los Nevados
In the wee hours we headed up into the Central Andes aiming for Los Nevados national park, home of several high-altitude bird species. On the way up we saw Paramo Seedeater, Grey-browed Brushfinch, a showy Paramo Tapaculo,[1] and on the hummingbird side added the highly colourful Purple-backed Thornbill, Rainbow-bearded Thornbill and Shining Sunbeam. Probably the best find was a flock of the endemic & endangered Rufous-fronted Parakeet, seen by scope on a distant cliff face.
Paramo Tapaculo
We
stopped for a snack and some coca tea at Laguna Negra, while a very friendly
Stout-billed Cinclodes showed off for us. Coca tea, by the way, is used by the
locals to combat altitude sickness. Tasty stuff, but I decided that if I
brought some back with me there would likely be a scene with the customs
officials so I reluctantly let it go.
The
Visitor Centre at Los Nevados sits at 4,200m, which is 13,800 feet in old money
and the highest I have been without being surrounded by an airplane. The target
bird was an endemic hummingbird known as the Buffy Helmetcrest, a beast that
apparently does not need oxygen to survive. We lowlanders do need oxygen, and
there was precious little in evidence. Nonetheless, while moving about very
slowly we managed to spot the beast. Slow high-fives were exchanged, then we
fled back down to the air zone.
Looking a bit strained.
On
our way back we stopped in at the Hotel Termales del Ruiz, a nice hotel with
thermal baths. And hummingbirds. Stacks of them. There are bird feeders
throughout the grounds and they attract a stunning array of hummingbirds and
tanagers. Of the 12 species of hummingbirds, four were lifers for me: Mountain
Velvetbreast, Buff-winged Starfrontlet, near-endemic Black-thighed Puffleg and near-endemic
Golden-breasted Puffleg. We also saw four species of mountain tanagers, of
which Lachrymose and Scarlet-bellied were new to me. So all in all, not bad for
90 minutes work that also included lunch!
Shining Sunbeam
Rio Blanco
Our next stop was the lodge at Reserva Ecológica Río Blanco.
Just a short hop from Manizales, this reserve in the cloud forest is
particularly noted as a hotspot for antpittas. We arrived at the crack of dawn
to ensure we were in place when the rangers feed the shy Bicoloured Antpitta.
Most of a Bicoloured Antpitta
The
Bicoloured is a small antpitta and can be bullied by the others, so they have
their own feeding “theatre.” Just after dawn our ranger-guide led us to the
spot and in the gloom a small bird appeared to get its meal. We then went to
another spot where the procedure was repeated and both endemic Brown-banded and
Chestnut-crowned Antpittas came to feast. It was a fascinating experience and
also a great test of camera-handling: fast-moving birds in low light are tricky
enough, and one has to bear in mind that antpittas have very long legs and
toes. Some of my otherwise best images are marred by missing toes!
Brown-banded Antpitta
Chestnut-crowned Antpitta
After the antpitta-fest we had a good breakfast and started exploring the rest of the reserve. Over a long day and a half of hill-walking we found really good numbers of birds, with flycatchers, guans, wrens and furnarids particularly well represented. A nighttime excursion netted White-throated Screech-Owl, Rufous-banded Owl, Slaty-backed Nightingale-Thrush and the charismatic Lyre-tailed Nightjar. And needless to say, hordes of hummingbirds buzzed around the feeders at the lodge.
The lodge itself was very comfortable, with good food and friendly staff. This seems to be a theme – we ate well and slept well at all the birding lodges we visited.
Andean GuanLong-tailed Sylph
Hotel Tinamú
After a final bit of cloud forest birding we set off for the
short trip to Hotel Tinamú, a private reserve and lodge where we hoped to find a few
key birds. Tinamous, of course, would top the list, but these skulkers are very
rarely seen. True to form we didn’t see any – though I strongly suspect that
the vaguely chicken-shaped bird that scooted across the trail in front of me
was a Little Tinamou. But we were consoled by a lot of other good sightings:
Green Hermits at a lek, Golden-collared Manakin, Blue-lored Antbird and our target
bird the Grey-headed Dove.
Golden-collared Manakin @ISO 10,000
My compañeros were too fatigued to go owling in the evening but I went out with the head guide and we spent an hour or so patrolling the reserve. We were rewarded with good looks at Tropical Screech-Owls – a bird I had previously seen but had not been able to photograph. So all was well.
Tropical Screech-Owl
Clay-coloured Thrush
In the morning after a fine breakfast we had another good look around, enabling me to renew acquaintances with Clay-coloured Thrush, a species that I first saw in Costa Rica. Then it was “on-on”, with a long drive ahead before we would come to rest in Jardin.
On the way through Manizales we picked up Daniel’s daughter Laura, who is learning the ropes of the birding business. This clever and charming young lady was a welcome addition, as her presence immediately raised the standard of conversation above the usual masculine grunting noises.
Western Andes – Riosucio and Jardin
The mountain road that winds between Riosucio and Jardin is
home to some special birds, most notably the endemic & endangered
Yellow-eared Parrot. Once on the verge of extinction, with a total wild
population of 81 birds, this parrot has benefited from an intensive
conservation effort and is now on the rebound. There are over 1400 of these
colourful, large and noisy parrots screeching around the area, and we had no
problem spotting groups of up to 30 birds. While poking around we also
discovered the endemic Yellow-headed Brushfinch and beautiful Rufous-breasted
Chat-Tyrant, the latter being one of Ken’s key targets.
The Riosucio-Jardin Express
After a night in Jardin we headed back up the mountain road to link up with Doña Lucía, a local antpitta-whisperer, and we spent an enjoyable hour or so observing and feeding Chestnut-naped Antpittas. A lone Slate-crowned Antpitta observed the proceedings from a safe spot but was disinclined to join in the festivities.
Chestnut-naped Antpitta
There were doubtless many more birds that could have been
found, but we had to head back to Jardin in time to see the Cock-of-the-Rock
spectacle. On a riverside lot in downtown Jardin there is a copse of trees that
Andean Cock-of-the-Rocks have deemed to be appropriate for their mating
displays.
Andean Cock-of-the-Rock
These are striking birds to look at, with their neon-red
plumage and bizarre shape, but their idea of how to win a lady’s heart is truly
spectacular. The birds bob, shake their wings, perform deep bows and push-ups
and hop around, all the while emitting a cacophony of squawks, croaks and
beak-clapping. It’s equally astonishing and amusing. Visiting a
Cock-of-the-Rock lek was one of my key wishes for this trip and I was not
disappointed.
The next morning we made a final foray up the mountain road,
adding Scarlet-rumped Cacique to our list but dipping on Red-bellied Grackle,
another bird on Ken’s wish list. We still hoped to find one, and the omens were
good, as we were now headed to the legendary Las Tangaras lodge, the final stop
on our tour.
Las Tangaras
Las Tangaras is a flagship reserve of ProAves, the most important NGO working to preserve the birdlife of Colombia. The reserve is located within the Choco region of the Western Andes, and consists of tropical forest with an elevation ranging from 1250 to 3400m. E-bird lists 454 bird species that have been seen at the reserve.
Velvet-purple Coronet
The lodge was quite comfortable and offered excellent food.
Most of the key species are not found on the grounds of the lodge, but on a
high mountain road that winds southwards. We arrived at lunchtime and
immediately made our first foray up the road. For about four hours of effort we
ended up with 42 species, highlighted by Toucan Barbet, endemic Tatama
Tapaculo, Uniform Antshrike, eight flycatcher species and the endemic Black-and-gold
Tanager, as well as a good assortment of hummingbirds.
Toucan Barbet
Cinnamon Flycatcher
The next morning we headed back up, and though low cloud and
intermittent rain made viewing conditions less than optimal, we still managed a
good haul. Both Rufous-rumped and Yellow-breasted Antwrens were seen, along
with Choco Vireo, Crested Ant-Tanager and a few new-for-the-trip furnarids.
Several Yellow-breasted Antpittas were heard at close range but they refused to
show themselves. A lone Olivaceous Piha was spotted lurking in the forest at
close range, and despite the cloud and dense undergrowth I managed to get a
decent image.
Olivaceous Piha
Masked Trogon
Fortunately we had better weather the next day, as it would
be our last shot at a few target birds. Much searching was needed but we did
eventually find two Beautiful Jays and a couple of Red-bellied Grackles, as
well as a pair of White-headed Wrens. A good assortment of tanagers and
furnarids rounded out the list, with a surprise addition of Long-billed
Starthroat at lunch – our 51st hummingbird species of the trip. Then
we were back on the road, heading for Medellin, with a couple of new species
added during short stops along the way.
Andean Motmot at the Lodge
Homeward Bound
Goodbyes were said, vast plates of grilled chicken were dispatched, and finally we were at an airport hotel awaiting an early flight through Panama City bound for Kingston. Given that we were primarily looking for scarce endemics, a final trip list of 481 species (456 seen, 25 heard-only) was quite respectable. When we add in the birds I saw in the Eastern Andes with Daniel my Colombia life list sits at 651. Plans are already being hatched for the next excursion to Colombia, the Mecca of Birding.
[1]
Showy for a tapaculo, that is. Still a fairly skulking bird.
Trip Report: KFN Field Trip to Southwestern Ontario – 6-11
May 2019
In days of yore the Kingston Field Naturalists (KFN) used to conduct field trips to Point Pelee, the birding mecca of southwestern Ontario. Eventually interest waned and these trips were discontinued, but with a new generation of keen birders entering our ranks the time seemed right to renew this tradition. And so it was that on the 6th of May eight members headed down the long road to Leamington in search of spring migrants.
By the time we arrived it was late afternoon, so there were
only a couple of hours of birding time available before we had to check into
hotels and find dinner. We decided to patrol the Woodland Trail and amid the
usual suspects we managed to find five warbler species, including good views of
Blue-winged Warbler. Just a taste of things to come! We also saw the first of
approximately one zillion Red-breasted Nuthatches we were to find during the
week – these normally northern forest specialists were everywhere.
“Anthony Kaduck, you stand accused of twitching in the first degree, in that on the 28th of April in this year of our Lord 2019, you did willfully and with prior intent travel to Oshawa for the sole purpose of viewing a bird, to wit a Hermit Warbler. How do you plead?”
“Guilty, m’Lud.”
(Nice Hermit Warbler image by Patko erika courtesy of Wikipedia)
I completely missed the first clue. While scrolling through
the hourly rare bird update for Ontario I glanced at a posting about a Hermit something in Thickson’s Woods. I deleted
the post, wondering to myself why a Hermit Thrush would trigger a rare bird
alert.
Later on that evening I received a message from Paul
Mackenzie, asking if I wanted to chase the Hermit WARBLER at Thickson’s Woods.
A quick check of Sibley’s revealed that there was indeed such a bird, and it
was way out of its normal range. Despite the late hour, and having different
plans for Sunday, and having consumed a large meal and several beverages, I
agreed. (On second thought, the beverages may have played a role). And so the game
was afoot.
And what is a Hermit Warbler…
…you ask? A very shy and retiring wood warbler that normally breeds on the West coast of the US, winters in Mexico, and occasionally wanders as far afield as Colorado. So this particular beastie evidently took a seriously wrong turn at Albuquerque. Worth chasing in the first instance, and the fact that it was a very fresh-looking adult male – and thus a stunning bird – added further impetus.
As I sped West after a delayed start I went through the
usual nameless dread that accompanies twitchers – that I would arrive to the soul-destroying
phrase “you should have been here ten minutes ago”, followed by several dreary and
ultimately futile hours searching for a bird that has well and truly departed never
to be seen again.
I arrived to at the crowded parking area and the first two
birders I met were packing up to go, having been treated to a fine exhibition by
the bird in question. One fellow mentioned how unusual it was for a rare bird
to be so confiding, and that I was sure to get some great close-up photos. Foolishly
letting down my guard, I wandered over to the last known location to find that
the bird had vanished some minutes before. The Cassandras in the group opined
that it had fed well all morning and was likely gone for good, headed North.
The Agony and the Ecstasy
The assembled multitudes milled around aimlessly for a
while, but gradually the crowd started to thin out until only three or four of
us were left at the scene of the crime. Had the warbler waited another ten
minutes he might have been able to frolic unobserved, but as it was he poked his
bright yellow head out of the foliage right in my line of sight. A quick look
confirmed that this was a Hermit Warbler, and I announced it just as he
disappeared again.
No one else saw it, and after another ten warbler-free minutes
I detected a certain veiled skepticism among the cognoscenti. But with nothing
else in sight a number of birders drifted back, so when the beast reappeared he
was spotted. In typical warbler fashion he was flitting constantly in and out
of the foliage so a photograph was not possible, but the Hermit is a very distinctive
warbler and he was well seen by all.[1]
Paying obeisance to a rare bird.
So there is no particular moral to this story but at least it had a happy ending for me, with life bird #1680 in the bag. Sadly, my travelling companion and instigator of the twitch had to leave for home and missed the bird by ten minutes.
BTW, Luc Fazio managed to get some good video footage of the warbler when it was showing off – viewable at this link.
[1] Less, of course, those misguided souls who think that a camera is a good alternative to binoculars – they were mostly unable to find the bird.
Beer. It’s the best damn drink in the world. — Jack Nicholson
2018 was the year of the challenge: the Biggish Bird Year, where I challenged myself to see 250 bird species in Ontario, and the Jon Bubb Birding Beer Challenge, where a mate challenged me to sample one beer for every species seen. As you have read in these pages in excruciating detail, I did manage to clock 278 bird species. So how did I fare on the beer challenge?
Fuller’s London Pride. The best of the best.
Well as the Duke of Wellington said about the battle of Waterloo, it was a near-run thing. Throughout the year I was perennially in catch-up mode, as each time I started to make up some ground I ended up seeing new birds, necessitating even more beer species. At the end of November I was 40 beers in arrears, but with the aid of some boon companions a late push got me just over the line. I spotted the 278th bird on December 29th, and downed the 278th beer on the 31st.
Mackinnon Brothers Eight Man English Pale Ale – beer #278.
It didn’t actually require a massive effort, just a certain amount of diligence. Even operating under self-imposed political constraints (no beers from fascist countries, from countries sliding towards fascism, or from countries run by populist demagogues) and even after losing the month of November to an unnamed plague virus, I still managed to get the job done. I even ended up with a few extras in the fridge to kick off the 2019 year list.
So we now have established that there are upwards of 300 beers available in Ontario, a happy and healthy increase from the days of my youth when there were about ten and they all tasted the same.
And by the way, the level of effort required to sit in comfy pubs or at home in my armchair sipping a cool one compares very favourably to the many hundreds of hours I spent out in the wind, rain, perishing cold and blazing heat searching for birds.
Carrying on the Quest
A trio of excellent brews, from Kingston, Peterborough and the Laurentides.
So should anyone be inspired to replicate this noble challenge, I think that it should be quite possible to shoot for 300 in a year. The real limiting factor is finding sufficient stocks of new beers to try, but with diligence (that word again) and the help of friends it should be do-able. So I now throw down the gauntlet: a decent bottle of whisky to the first one of my readers to hit 300.
The Rules of the Game
Here are the rules, as codified by a panel of expert:
Sample Size. Ideally each beer should be imbibed in its natural form. For draft beers this means a pint glass; bottles or cans should be decanted into an appropriate-sized glass. Half pints are acceptable, as are flights of beers provided that the serving size is adequate to assess the quality of a beer.
Radlers may be included.
Neer beers (i.e. alcohol-free beers) may not be counted.
How to Approach the Challenge
As long as you stick to the rules the path to success is fairly simple (and should only cause mild annoyance among your friends):
When out on the town, try to steer your friends towards brew pubs or places with large beer menus.
Don’t just order the beer you like. Nerdishly search the list of available beers for new targets.
If in doubt, consult your year list, which should be on your phone.
Order a different beer with each round.
When out of town, never pass an LCBO without checking to see if they have any regional brews.
Drink beer when you might otherwise prefer wine or a cocktail.
Proper glassware is also important.
Remerciements
Along the way there were a number of people who helped (or
in AA terms facilitated) this quest.
My brothers, who eagerly leapt into the spirit (so to speak).
Andrew and Mike, who supported the guiding philosophy of birds+beers during our road trip.
Brother-in-law Rob, who always had interesting bottles in stock when we came to visit.
Larry and Janice, my sister’s neighbours, who heard about the challenge and brought me back several Newfoundland specialties.
Bruce, who designatedly drove while I sampled the wares of Niagara-on-the-Lake.
Christie and Zarko, who on their travels thoughtfully picked up a six-pack from an obscure craft brewery.
Brother-in-law James, who bravely took time off from Christmas Eve preparations to sink a few with me.
Of 278 beers tasted, 97 received a star, signifying an interesting brew of high quality and drinkability – “more-ish” as the Brits would say. Stone City Ales had the highest score with five starred brews, followed by Collective Arts and Muskoka Brewery with four each.
Those that didn’t make the grade generally fell into two categories: boring (yet another Labatt’s Blue clone or over-hopped IPA) or weird. In the weird category I would count most of the sours.
Sours are the latest craze among brewers. They have a long history and, in the right circumstances (which normally include being in Belgium), they are an interesting diversion. But they generally fail on the quaffability and I-think-I’ll-have-another criteria.
In the Hall of Shame were eight brews rated as dreadful/never try again: Barley Days Wind and Sail Dark, Bennett’s Dominion Ale, Budweiser Light, Coors Banquet, Coors Light, Henderson’s Food Truck Blonde Ale, Puppers Letterkenny Lager, and Wolfe Island Brewery Out for a Sip. You have been warned.
Recommended Beers
This is the house ale chez nous.
My first post on this topic included a list of recommended
beers. Here are a few more good ones for your delectation:
Amsterdam Brewery Space Invader IPA
Blyth Brewing Company Doc Perdue’s Bobcat
Benediktiner Hell
Beyond the Pale Pink Fuzz Pale Wheat Ale
Bicycle Craft Brewery Velocipede IPA
Braufactum Pale Ale
Brooklyn Lager
Collective Arts Jam up the Mash Dry-hopped Sour
Collective Arts Surround Sound Double Dry-hopped IPA
Hop City Brewing Co 8th Sin Black Lager
Kingston Brew Pub Dragon’s Breath
La Trou du Diable Saison
du Tracteur
MacKinnon Brothers Eight Man English Pale Ale
Mill Street Tankhouse
Northwinds Rooster Tail American Pale Wheat
Robinsons Iron Maiden Trooper beer
Sons of Kent Brewing Co 8 Track IPA
St Mary Axe India Pagan Ale
Stone City 12 Star Session Ale
Stone City Shallow Grave American Stout
The Publican House Brewery Square Nail Pale Ale
Traquair Jacobite Ale
Whitewater Brewing Co Astrolabe Session IPA
And remember, as Benjamin Franklin didn’t say (but should have):
“Beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy”
So for 2018, my first year as a full-time birder, I set out to see 250 bird species in Ontario. By mid-October my year list was at 270, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to find new targets. I opined that there were maybe five more birds that I could reasonably hope to find by year-end. So how did that bold prediction pan out?
October continued to be good to me, and I was able to add a
Hudsonian Godwit on Ault Island (near Morrisburg), a Lesser Black-backed Gull
at the Lafleche landfill site, and a Eurasian Wigeon (the foreign cousin of our
American Wigeon) along the St Lawrence Causeway.
Grainy long-distance shot of a Hudsonian Godwit. 17 Oct 18. Bird #271
November
Then, depression set in. I contracted some sort of perfidious virus and was essentially out of commission for the month of November. My November list was the nine birds I could see out the back window. Sadly, this meant that I missed out on a mega-rarity: the first Ontario record and third Canada record of a Calliope Hummingbird, which hung around Goderich until it was seen by every birder in Ontario except me. J’étais triste en maudit.
Northern Cardinal. First sighting of the year on 11 Jan 18. Bird #50
December
Fortunately, the worm started to turn in December. I headed off to Niagara Falls with my new birding pal Bruce to take in the the Ontario Field Ornithologists’ Gull ID weekend. The event consisted of an ID lecture on Saturday afternoon and a field trip to the Niagara Gorge on Sunday. The gorge regularly produces rare gulls in the winter when conditions are right, so hopes were high.
Ring-billed Gull. First sighting of the year on 1 Jan 18. Bird #26
Most participants arrived at the Falls on Friday evening, so Bob Highcock and the Peninsula Field Naturalists kindly organized a field trip on Saturday morning to the piers at Port Weller. It was an excellent day out and we had great views of, inter alia, Red-throated Loon. I had seen the species in May at extreme telescope range, so it was nice to see one cavorting in the water 100 metres offshore.
I also was fortunate to add a new bird to the year list – a small flock of Common Redpolls made a brief appearance. Redpolls are normally a bird of the boreal forest, but 2018 was an irruption year, where a shortage of food drives finch species farther south than they normally roam. This turned out to be the first of several sightings of Common Redpoll, including a lone individual that visited our backyard feeder a couple of times.
Gulls
The Gull Weekend itself was a slight disappointment. The ID workshop, run by Justin Peter, was excellent, but sadly we were blessed with unseasonably warm and sunny weather on Sunday. On the plus side it was much more comfortable as we spent motionless hours telescoping gulls in the windswept Niagara Gorge. On the minus side there was no reason for deep water gulls to come in off the lake and seek shelter in the gorge. As a result, no real rarities were seen, though we had good views of Iceland, Lessser Black-backed and Little Gulls among the hordes of Herring Gulls. And on the way home Bruce introduced me to Earl the Eastern Screech Owl, who was roosting happily in a spruce tree.
Distant gulls, 2 Dec 18. The left-hand bird is an Iceland Gull. First sighting o the year on 10 Jan 18. Bird #44Eastern Screech Owl. 2 Dec 18. (Heard 10 Feb 18) Bird #74
Finding the Last Bird
Pine Grosbeak is another bird that irrupted south in late 2018, so when a flock was reported to have visited a crab apple tree in nearby Amherstview I went on the prowl. Two hours of watching the tree in question produced but a chickadee or two. With a heavy heart I turned for home, only to note a commotion in a mountain ash bush in the parking lot of an apartment block one street over from the Tree of No Birds. And there they were, happily feeding. Bird #275.
Pine Grosbeak. 8 Dec 18.
On Dec 16th I participated in the Kingston Christmas Bird Count, which was remarkable only for the extreme paucity of birds in the area covered by me and Chris Heffernan. However on the ferry ride back from Wolfe Island someone mentioned that a Greater White-fronted Goose had been spotted on the grounds of the Royal Military College. Needless to say we sped there with all dispatch and spotted the blighter almost immediately. So a bird that I had chased unsuccessfully four times in the bleak fields outside of Ottawa turned up fat and happy about 900m from my front door. I admired the beast at close range, suppressed the urge to throttle it for its perfidy[1], and made off.
One Last Twitch
It had been agreed that we would spend Christmas with my
brother-in-law’s family in Mississauga. This was not a hardship because (a) we
all get on well, (b) our niece’s firstborn would be there, and (c) several
juicy rare birds had been seen recently in the Golden Triangle. For boxing day
my bride kindly agreed to accompany me on a birding foray, and though we dipped
on the Eurasian Collared-doves in Hamilton, we managed to spot and photograph a
flock of 58 Bohemian Waxwings near Caledon. Bohemian Waxwing is a holarctic
species, meaning it breeds in the boreal forest in North America and Eurasia. They
regularly irrupt from Scandinavia to England and Scotland in winter, but in
seven years of living in the UK I had managed to see exactly 1/58th of
the number we saw in Caledon. And since I had also managed up to then so see
exactly zero in Canada, it was a great find.
Bohemian Waxwing. 26 Dec 18. Bird #277
So the year was just about up, but there was one potential
target left. Short-eared Owls are annual, though scarce visitors to Wolfe and Amherst
Islands. Most owls are nocturnal hunters and thus hard to see, but Short-ears
are crepuscular – they tend to hunt at dawn and dusk as well. (They are known
to hunt during the day when vole populations are high, including on 19 January
2019… but that’s another story). So in principle it’s a simple task. All one
has to do is go to Amherst Island, find a vantage point that looks over short
grassy fields, and wait, with one eye on the landscape and the other watching
the clock. And in the fifteen minute window between sunset and the last safe
moment to catch the five o’clock ferry, owls might appear. And since I have
gone through this long-winded exposition, you have doubtless already guessed
that this is exactly what happened.
Cooper’s Hawk at dawn. Bird #1
So there we were – year bird #278. Being a good citizen I drove home and parked before breaking out the single malt.
Good Company
As I noted in an earlier post, one of the essential elements of birding success is good company. I was privileged to share the long miles, long hours, hits and misses with a fine group of birders. I will no doubt forget a few names, but key birding pals in this endeavour have included:
My bride Lynn (“Sure, let’s go to Rainy River”)
Andy and Mike from the AOS (3663km, 198 species, 10 Tim Hortons, 12 beer species)
My birding mentor Dr Paul (“Let’s go get that Kiskadee!”)
The North Leeds Birders, especially Jim, Ken, Janis, and Kathy (“What time is coffee break?”)
Erwin and Sandra (“I know a few good spots for….. “)
Richard and Dianne (“We’re in!”)
OFO trip leaders Justin, Pete, Tyler, Josh and Jeremy (“Gulls are cool”)
KFN trip leaders including Peter, Kurt and Gaye (“You never know what we’ll see”)
Jon Ruddy and his gang of Eastern Ontario Birders (“I will find you a Ross’s Goose!”)
Pauliina and Meg (“Sure, let’s go there. It’s kinda on the way”)
Bruce (“It’s always the right time to chase a rarity”)
The final statistics are:
278 bird species in Ontario, of which I saw 277 and
heard but didn’t see one (Eastern Whip-poor-will – an invisible bird with a
very distinctive call)
1 additional species seen from Ontario but
sitting in Lewiston N.Y. (Which I refused to include in my Ontario list.
Unlike, harrumph, at least 30 eBird listers who apparently take a more
expansive view of what goes on their ONTARIO lists).
17 new life birds
24 species seen previously but not in Ontario
(For comparison purposes we saw 266 species in Costa Rica in
ten days).
Sites Visited
National Parks and National Wildlife Areas – 6
Provincial Parks – 6
Other parks – 11
Conservation Areas – 17
Bird Observatories – 2
Sewage Treatment Facilities and Landfill Sites –
11
Distance Travelled – approximately 19,000 km
Circumference of the Earth – 40,075km
[1] To
be precise for the perfidy of its species. It seemed unfair to make this one
individual a scapegoose.
In principle the goal of seeing 250 birds in Ontario in a year should be achievable. You just need to expend a lot of effort looking, and make sure you go to the right places at the right times.
I did spend a lot of time looking, and largely in the right places, and lo and behold, hit the magic 250 mark on June 26th with a Least Bittern in the Moscow Marsh.
Having thus set a low standard and achieved it, I could have justifiably hung up my metaphorical skates for the year. But, you will be shocked to hear, I didn’t. The new goal became “how high can I go?”
There are a number of reasons for pushing on. In no particular order:
The forward-thinking reason. Someday I will do an official Big Year (300 birds) so all the effort put into finding birds this year and the lessons learned will pay dividends in the future.
The practical reason. I will be out birding anyway so why not focus on birds I can add to the list?
The nefarious reason. Once I stop birding three or more days a week I might have to do more of the useful but tedious things on my task list.
So, bird on it is!
However, the salient point about passing the 250 mark is that by then I had seen all the readily-seeable birds. Further progress would require not only continued effort, but also greater focus on planning where and when to see the missing birds. So the new equation is:
Effort + Homework + Good Company + Luck = Results
Homework is a key aspect that separates serious birders from people who like to look at birds. The ability to recognize the 291 species that (allegedly)[1] breed in Ontario, in all their various plumages (juvenile, breeding, non-breeding) comes from many hours of studying field guides and websites. Having started later in life and spent most of my birding time in the UK, I had a lot of catching up to do, but I have managed to get a reasonable grip on most species. Let’s say B+ in the more common birds, C+ in scarcities, and C with a Most Improved Student award in non-breeding warblers.
Knowing when and where to look for specific tricky species used to be in the realm of ancient lore, knowledge built up over a lifetime of birding and shared sparingly. The digital world has changed that, and we now have resources like E-bird that can help us narrow down the dates and sites where birds are likely to be seen.
But it also really helps to have additional sets of eyes at that time and place, especially if those eyes belong to better birders. Good company can skew the odds in your favour.
Still, for all the homework and effort you and your companions put in, the bird has to decide to (a) go to the anointed place at the anointed time, (b) be in a part of that place that is accessible to birders, and (c) make itself visible. This is where the perfidiousness of certain species comes into play. Nelson’s Sparrows, for example, typically pass through Southern Ontario in the first week of October. They favour wet, weedy reedbeds, where they skulk like mice and mostly refuse to show themselves. So luck is a key factor in the later parts of the year.
New Additions
How lucky have I been? Herewith an annotated list of birds seen and not seen since bird #250:
251 – Northern Bobwhite. 27 June near the Moscow Dump. Very scarce bird. Sheer luck.
252 – Eastern Whip-poor-will. 3 July, Prince Edward County. The birds had been calling for a few weeks along a remote country road. Homework + effort.
X – Chuck-will’s-widow. Prince Edward County. Calling near the Whip-poor-wills for a few weeks. Last heard the night before I went looking for it. Lack of effort.
253 – Little Blue Heron. The bird had been present for a few days. I was visiting family in the Toronto area so it was only a two-hour drive, and the bird made itself visible. Effort and Luck.
Little Blue Heron
X – Yellow-crowned Night Heron. Cambridge. Had been seen well in the river for a week or more. The first day that it didn’t show up was the day I visited. Bad luck, but a consolation prize for effort in recognition of the THREE AND A HALF HOURS I spent standing on that bridge. At least I got to practise some birds-in-flight photography.
Caspian Tern
254-255 – Red Knot, Baird’s Sandpiper. 26 August, Presqu’ile. Good shorebird habitat during peak migration. Homework + effort.
Baird’s Sandpiper
256 – Western Sandpiper. 26 August, Presqu’ile. Rare migrant. Luck (the bird was there) and good management (birding with a guy – Jon Ruddy – that could actually recognize a Western Sandpiper).
Western Sandpiper
257 – Pectoral Sandpiper. 3 September, Morven. Good shorebird habitat during peak migration. Effort and homework. And a bit of luck as Pectoral is not a typical bird for this site.
Pectoral Sandpiper – Blenheim Sewage Lagoons
258 – Short-billed Dowitcher. 5 September, Brighton. Effort (it was at the end of a long, hot day) and good company. Bill Gilmour mentioned that the sewage lagoon was worth a look as they had cut back some of the reeds; Jim Thompson identified the bird while my dehydrated brain was still trying to process it.
Short-billed Dowitcher in the weeds
259 – Great Kiskadee. 15 September, Rondeau Provincial Park. Good company (my friend and birding mentor Paul Mackenzie), gold star for effort (we left Kingston at 0100 hours for the six-hour drive), major luck, as a few minutes after we left the bird disappeared, never to be seen again.
Great Kiskadee (at long distance)
260 – Snowy Egret. 15 September, Roberta Stewart Wetland. Easiest bird of this list. Seen as we drove into the parking lot. A few marks for effort – after seeing the Kiskadee we took the time to check Ontbirds for any other rare birds in the area.
Snowy Egret
261 – American Pipit. 19 September, Wolfe Island. Out on our weekly trip with the North Leeds Birders. Jim Thompson spotted the well-camouflaged bird. Good company.
American Pipit
262, 263 – American Golden Plover, Buff-breasted Sandpiper. 23 September, Presqu’ile. I knew that American Golden Plover and (occasionally) Buff-breasted Sandpiper are seen on Gull Island at this time of the year. I picked a non duck-hunting day[2] when the weather looked promising and waded across to the island. Both birds were present – the Buff-breasted Sandpiper being one of only five sightings in the province this year. So gold star to me for homework, effort and luck!
Buff-breasted Sandpiper
264 – Purple Gallinule. 27 September, near Harrow. A long-staying rarity, but very hard to find as it skulked in the reeds. Effort (two and a half hours staring into the reeds) and good company (Paul, plus the young fellow who eventually tracked it down and immediately alerted the other birders on the site).
Purple Gallinule
265 – Great Horned Owl. 27 September near Kingsville. We stopped to plot a course on the GPS and there it was, sitting on a wire. Sheer luck.
266 – Tufted Titmouse. 29 September, Ojibway Prairie Complex. Seen on a field trip during the Ontario Field Ornithologists Convention. The bird was known to be in the area. The trip leader, Peter Read, managed to point them out and we had decent looks as they flitted by. So effort, for driving to Leamington for the second time in a month, and good company. But also low cunning. They needed to split the group into two but we resolutely stayed with the best birder and it paid off. Pauvre Pauliina and Margaret did the “right” thing, went with the less-skilled guide, and didn’t see the bird.
267 – Red-necked Grebe. 12 October, Barrie. I had already made a plan to travel to Etobicoke in late October, when these birds are known to gather before migrating further south. But we saw several whilst looking for the target bird – Pacific Loon. Luck.
Red-necked Grebe
268 – Pacific Loon. 13 October, Barrie. A bird of the West Coast, but for reasons known only to themselves two or three birds show up in Barrie in mid-October every year to join the thousands (!) of Common Loons feasting on Emerald Shiners. So homework and effort, but especially good company – Jon Ruddy and the rest of the Eastern Ontario Birding collective.
269 – Yellow-billed Cuckoo. 13 October, Colonel Sam Smith Park. The bird had been seen by several other birders but managed to elude us for a while. When we noted a suspicious flitting of wings we got all field-crafty and snuck forward. Bruce spotted the bird skulking in a tree, and while we were spying on it it suddenly leapt out, nabbed a Wolly Bear caterpillar on the path and sped off. Luck and good company.
270 – Orange-crowned Warbler. 13 October, Colonel Sam Smith Park. A late-migrating warbler, predictable at this time but often hard to find. Luck and good company.
So all the Effort/Homework/Good Company/Luck factors played their part, with luck perhaps the most important. At this point there are maybe five birds left that I can reasonably hope to see in the last months of the Biggish Year. Let’s hope the luck holds out!
A bad day birding is better than a good day at work
– Anon
Every day at Presqu’ile is a good day
– Me
Presqu’ile Provincial Park is one of my favourite wildlife spots. It features an incredible range of habitat for such a small place: a sheltered bay loved by migrating ducks, extensive marshes, wet woods, sand dunes and climax forest. And of course, beautiful sand beaches, which attract swimmers and sun-worshippers, but much more importantly, migrating shorebirds.
So when the I saw that Jon Ruddy was leading a trip to Presqu’ile in prime shorebird season, I didn’t need much convincing. And thus it came to pass that on Sunday the 26th we assembled at the Park gates for a spot of birding.
The Beaches
The first step in the Presqu’ile stations of the cross is a visit to the beaches. If shorebirds are present they will be somewhere along the 2.5km of beach, so (quelle surprise!) the best approach is to start scanning at one end and then work one’s way along to the other. We started at Beach 1 with a good look at the gull flock. The usual suspects were around – an assortment of Herring and Ring-billed Gulls and Caspian Terns – with singles of Bonaparte’s Gull and Common Tern. We were admiring Ring-bill youngsters in their juvenile plumages when the first “peeps”[2] came through. Baird’s Sandpipers are normally seen in the autumn in ones and twos, but on this day they were darting about in groups of ten or more.
As you may recall, your intrepid heroes had finished scouring the Carden Alvar, making a decent haul of … alvar birds. On the afternoon of 11 May we headed down to Brighton to check in on Presqu’ile Provincial Park. Presqu’ile is one of my favourite birding haunts. It’s another migrant trap that sticks out into Lake Ontario, but it also has long sand beaches that attract migrating shorebirds. Having arrived during peak migration season we hoped to find a selection of early waders,[1] though we still held out hope for a dose of warbler mania.
Our first stop was the Brighton Constructed Wetland (another sewage lagoon, albeit with a downtown name). This site can be excellent in the right conditions but it’s very much feast or famine. If the water levels are too high the mud flats, a.k.a. smorgasbord for waders, are submerged. Our visit was more on the famine side, with only a few waders sneaking about. Blue-winged Teal, normally a regular visitor, were also absent. The best sightings were our first Marsh Wren of the year – expected at the site – and a Sedge Wren – apparently unexpected at that site, provoking an I-don’t-think-so email from the local EBird[2] coordinator. We saw what we saw. But more about EBird in another post.
Marsh Wren
So basically we “dipped”[3] at the sewage lagoons, but we hoped for a regain when we got to the Park. Almost certainly we would be inundated by warblers and waders, as payback by the Bird Gods for our many hours of driving and birding. Almost certainly we were not.
Not that it was bad, mind you. We had two plover species (Black-bellied and Semipalmated) and two sandpipers (Least and Spotted). Nothing earth-shattering but two of these were new to the trip list. We also added a nice (and early) Olive-sided Flycatcher near the Camp Office and our first Great Egrets lounging about on Gull Island (as they do). Probably our best find was a lone Black Scoter lurking among a small gaggle of Surf Scoters. So… not bad, but not brilliant either. The warbler count consisted of the three most common warblers (Yellow, Yellow-rumped and Tennessee) and no others.
Well, at least there were Yellow-rumped Warblers
Poignantly, there is a plaque at the Lighthouse, dedicated by his friends to a now-deceased birder “in memory of many twenty warbler days”. Our three-warbler day seemed a bit sad in comparison. At this point I was starting to doubt whether we would ever get to the 180+ species seen on the two previous Army Ornithological Society expeditions to Ontario. A serious case of mockery seemed likely.[4]
When we last saw our heroes, they were headed East into the sunrise, destination…
Long Point
The Long Point area is another prime birding hotspot in Ontario and we planned to have a good look around for about a day. There are dozens of birding spots in the area but ground zero is a smallish patch of scrub known as The Old Cut. Long Point itself juts well out into Lake Erie so it’s another shortcut for migrating birds. They land at the point and then work their way North, foraging through scrub, reeds and wet boggy copses – the bird equivalent of a breakfast buffet.
Old Cut is the end of the road – the good habitat comes to an end and their next move is a long flight to the next feeding station. So the birds tend to stooge around Old Cut for a while, getting in their pre-flight meal and flinging themselves into mist nets so they can be banded by the diligent workers at the Long Point Bird Observatory.
In my previous May visits the Old Cut has been crawling with birds, particularly of the wood warbler persuasion. Wood warblers, for those not up on their North American birding lore, are a family of tiny, active insectivores that pass through in hordes on their way to breed in the boreal forest. Their claim to fame is that they are improbably gorgeous. Each species has its particular markings and colours, ranging from the pinstriped Black and White Warbler to the madly orange Blackburnian, the sky blue Cerulaean and the dash-of-everything Magnolia Warbler. They are spectacular birds, though their hyperactivity makes them notoriously difficult to photograph.
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Golden-winged Warbler
Blackburnian Warbler
Magnolia Warbler
Warbler Mania
What we were hoping to experience at Long Point was a “fall” of warblers. When conditions are right (or wrong, from the warblers’ point of view) unfavourable winds and/or rain can force a huge number of migrating birds to seek shelter in the nearest available cover. They then try to load up on food until the time comes to resume the Northward trek.
A big fall is an epic experience. You can find yourself surrounded by hundreds of warblers of twenty or more species, all buzzing about and singing their special songs of love. Birders experiencing a fall often descend into warbler mania, a state of giddiness and mild confusion brought on by being surrounded by fast-moving natural beauty and trying to look at every bird at once.
A similar effect has been observed among tourists visiting Florence. As the author Stendhal[1] observed,
I was in a sort of ecstasy, from the idea of being in Florence, close to the great men whose tombs I had seen. Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty … I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations … Everything spoke so vividly to my soul. Ah, if I could only forget. I had palpitations of the heart, what in Berlin they call ‘nerves’. Life was drained from me. I walked with the fear of falling.
Yup, that’s about it. Warbler Mania.
However, this time it was not to be. As in our visits to Pelee and Rondeau, there were a good number of birds passing through but nothing like the divine madness we were hoping for. 24 hours at Long Point only added two new birds to our list, though we had a frustrating might-have-seen-for-a-second experience with an exotic yellow-throated warbler. We consoled ourselves in the traditional birder way (application of beer) and then girded ourselves for the longest day of our trip.
Slightly deranged from sun, driving and lack of sleep: Mike, Andy, Me.
The Long March
The next day we set out on a 500km road march, aiming to bypass Toronto, nab a series of scarce birds that hang around in the Carden Alvar, and end up in Brighton poised for a thorough scouring of Presqu’ile Provincial Park.
Alvars are limestone plains partly covered by a thin layer of soil and sparse grassland vegetation.[2] They tend to attract a special set of birds that are difficult or impossible to see elsewhere. The Carden Alvar, North of Kirkfield, is one of the best such spots in Ontario.
We escaped Toronto traffic relatively unscathed, and made it to Kirkfield in time to have a great lunch at the imaginatively-named but nonetheless estimable Kirkfield Restaurant. Thus fortified we headed North to Wylie Road, the heartland of special alvar birds.[3]
Alvar Birding
We first visited my no-fail site for Vesper Sparrow – and failed. But things improved when we got onto Wylie Road. Look for Eastern Bluebird on the fenceposts. Tick.
Eastern Bluebird. Not on a fencepost. Not on Wylie Road for that matter. Fake News.
Bobolink in the grassy field. Tick. Stop at the bird hide and look for Loggerhead Shrike. Tick. As we left the bird hide we were treated to, in quick succession, excellent views of Field Sparrow and Grasshopper Sparrow. Tick, tick. Down to the marsh for Swamp Sparrow. Tick. About the only target bird we missed out on was Upland Sandpiper, but for consolation we had extraordinarily close views of the normally shy and retiring Wilson’s Snipe.
Wilson’s Snipe
By 1730 our work there was done, and we headed south for Brighton and a few hours of sleep, punctuated by feverish visions of multicoloured warblers flitting just out of sight.
Would we get our fall of warblers? Would we finally experience warbler mania? Stay tuned…
Notes:
[1] Marie-Henri Beyle 1783-1842, best known for his novels The Red and the Black, and The Charterhouse of Parma.
[3] …and nutbar people. “The environmental theme is being challenged politically by a significant group of landowners, both local and away, who call themselves alternatively the Rural Revolution or the Ontario Landowners Association (OLA) They reject any government planned use of their private land (i.e. zoning) especially if it interferes with what they can do on it and who they can sell it to. They have posted signs throughout the City reading “THIS IS OUR LAND, GOVERNMENT BACK OFF!”. Seven local landowners, on the Carden Plain, went further in the summer of 2006 and posted signs prohibiting birders from looking for birds in their fields from the road. One local landowner even began stopping birders, walking on public roads, telling them to stop bird watching. He ceased this activity after being confronted by the police.” http://www.cardenplainimportantbirdarea.com/news.htm
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