The blackbirds are back — spring’s here at last!

A male red-winged blackbird claims his territory in Woodbine Park Thursday, March 17, by calling “konk-a-ree,” flashing his red epaulettes and spreading his tail feathers. © BCP 2011

I heard my first loud “konk-a-ree” a few days ago when I was out sniffing the air (mmm – mud!) and searching for signs of spring. Oh joy! A red-winged blackbird, (Agelaius phoeniceus) back from more southern climes.

But even listening very closely, I could only detect a few red-wings about. Clearly these were the advance contingent.

Today, however, the blackbirds’ distinctive, nasally territorial call was ringing out from a few more trees and bushes as I scoped out both Ashbridge’s Bay and Woodbine parks this morning.

It’s only a few males that have returned so far; the majority will drift in over the next few weeks. And the females later than that, of course.

In the meantime, we can be certain spring has arrived, if not officially for two more days. It crept in through the back door in the endless rain (thank you basement pump!) in the guise of some handsome blackbirds wearing red epaulettes on their shoulders.

It’s about time.

(Oh. I almost forgot: Don’t forget to read today’s quote on the song of the blackbird: “. . . for his song is all of the joy of life . . . ”

© BCP 2011

Mourning doves in the rain

A mourning dove (Zenaida macroura) rests on a branch in my yard this week during a grey drizzle. © BCP 2011

A couple of days ago, when it was so very terribly dreary — drizzly rain interspersed with freezing rain, broken up by pelting rain, then more Vancouver sunshine — I chanced to look out my back window. There, huddled down into the sturdy branches of my nearest weedy maple, were at least a half dozen mourning doves (Zenaida macroura), casually napping.

It’s easy as pie to tell when a mourning dove is napping — it’s all in the eyes.

I think the most distinctive part of these doves is their eyes, in fact. Well, not their eyes actually, which are deepest ebony. It’s their turquoise eyerings. Looks for all the world like they’ve been let loose in a child’s make-believe make-up box. Such an unusual colour for an otherwise slightly drab bird.

Don’t get me wrong. Even though their feathers are mainly  slatey and light brown, in shades that remind me of a fine cashmere coat, they are most handsome. And even more so when their feathers are highlighted with rain drops, as you might be able to see in the pictures above and below. (In the top picture, you can just make out the super fine drops of rain in the dove’s shoulder area.)

Two mourning doves, part of a much bigger group resting in my yard this week.

Today we have sun, glorious sun — for a change. I wonder what spring secrets will unfold under Old Sol’s warming rays.

© BCP 2011

A shot of (avian) sunshine, when we need it most

A great kiskadee (Pitangus sulphuratus), hunts from a low branch by a beach in Bermuda in January. © BCP 2011

Arrgh! Looking out my window as I write this, Mr. Golden Sun has taken his rays away.  It’s grey, grey, grey, and snowing. Again. Spring, which seemed just around the corner only a few days ago, now seems to be in abeyance. Which is why I have posted a picture of a beautiful bird I saw on recent travels to much sunnier, warmer climes. No golden sun? We’ll have a golden bird, instead. We need a boost here!

The gorgeous fellow above is a kiskadee flycatcher (Pitangus sulphuratus) I saw while in Bermuda in January. The large (nearly 9″ long) and lavishly yellow-breasted species is often referred to in North American bird guides as a great kiskadee. (Not to be confused with the lesser kiskadee, Pitangus lictor, which is mostly found in South America.) The kiskadees are tyrant flycatchers.

(For the taxonomy wonks, tyrant flycatchers are in the suborder Tyranni in the order Passeriformes, which include all birds that perch. Passeriformes derive their name from the Latin for sparrow, passer. In fact, the scientific name for house sparrows, possibly the best-known and most common perchers of all, is Passer domesticus.)

Passerines, which include more than half of all bird species, have several distinct traits that characterize the order. One is the arrangement of toes on their feet. In the photo above, you can clearly see the anatomy of a passerine foot: three toes directed forward, one toe directed back. The perfect adaptation for perching on any surface, even a completely vertical one.

Great kiskadees are native to the Americas, with a range extending north to Mexico and Texas, and south to Uruguay and Argentina, according to Wiki. Even though they are flycatchers, they eat much more than just flies. In fact, they are omnivorous, eating from a cafeteria of choices that includes large insects — such as beetles, wasps, grasshoppers, bees and moths —  lizards, mice, baby birds, frogs, tadpoles, small fish, many berries, small fruits and some seeds. The big yellow birds were introduced to Bermuda in 1957 in the hope that would help control an overpopulation of lizards, but this experiment in biological control failed. The kiskadees did nothing to control the Anolis lizards, and have since become a problem themselves.

Here’s what the website Bermuda online has to say about these beautiful but bad boy birds: “Without knowing it beforehand, with the kiskadees Bermuda allowed in a veritable bird gang of terrorists. Those 200 original yellow-breasted kiskadees have become the prolific and noisy Mafioso of Bermuda’s bird lands, trees, shrubs and telephone wires – and a major threat to the lives, feeding and nesting habits of Bermuda’s beautiful bluebirds and other birds as well as to soft-skinned local fruit, crabs, fish and other choice edibles. Also, they were the major reason for the extinction of the endemic Cicada (known locally as Singers) by the late 1990s.”

A case of being beauty and the beast, all at once.

Pray for spring. In the meantime, see you on the trail.

© BCP 2011

Redpolls at Ashbridge’s Bay

A female common redpoll (Cardeulis flammea) eats seeds from a tamarack cone at Ashbridge’s Bay.  © BCP 2011

As  you can see from the blue sky in the picture above, I didn’t take this photo this weekend. No, I’m cheating a bit, going backward in time — slightly more than a week ago, in fact — when a day that held the promise of spring lured me from my winter lair.

I thought I would head out along the Ashbridge’s Bay boardwalk (when are they, whoever that is, going to fix our boardwalk? an item for another day, perhaps?) to see if I could get a glimpse of our swans, and to see what new ducks, if any, were about.

Saw plenty of ducks, the photos of which I posted over the past week.

But a chance encounter with a fellow birder along the path made my day. After a pleasant greeting, she asked me if I had seen the redpolls that were out at the end of the peanut. Very high up in the trees, she said.

Well, I’ve seen redpolls at the bay before, but never got a photo of any. So I was off quickly to check my luck.

There were, indeed, lots of redpolls (Carduelis flammea) in the copse of tamaracks (Larix laracina) at the end of the path, the larches looking a little faded and skeletal without their golden autumn needles.

The redpolls, though. Oh my! Such energy and colour. Flitting and flashing throughout the tamarack branches, they were hard to zero in on with my long lens. I managed to get a couple of peek-a-boo shots, though, as you can see above.

I was mesmerized by the acrobatic manoeuvres of these adorable, seed-eating finches. Upside-down, sideways around. You’d think they’d all graduated from the Cirque du Soleil.

It turned out that I didn’t get quite as clear a shot of the male redpoll, but am posting it anyway so that others can enjoy his beautiful colouration. So handsome with his scarlet hat and bib.

When I went back to our park a few days later, I saw no sign of the redpolls. So my sincere thanks to my friend on the path for alerting me to their presence that afternoon. Birders looking out for fellow birders. I’ll pass the favour on.

See you on the trail.

A male redpoll digging for seeds in some tamarack cones at Ashbridge’s Bay. © BCP 2011

© BCP 2011

Wintry birds, dreaming of a mate

My quote of the day today is actually a verse by English romantic poet Christina Rossetti, who lived from 1830 to 1894. The poem begins “I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate.” I don’t know about the sap….Hang on a tick. I DO know about the sap. It must be flowing because the maple syrup festival at our local conservation parks begins this week.

I was going to say, I don’t know about the sap, but I do know about the wintry birds….They are certainly dreaming of a mate…

I know from my frequent walks at Ashbridge’s Bay that the all ducks are certainly in the mating mood. But it seems there’s some mating on going on closer to home. . .

Just today, while I was having my lunch, I happened to look out to my garden, and there, on the railing of my deck, were two love birds courting. A pair of most handsome mourning doves, doing their mating dance along my railing. It was a spectacle to behold: all fluffling of feathers, mirrored neck motions between the male and female, then what looked for all the world like kissing. The two doves, facing each other, repeatedly touched their bills together, opening them slightly to get better contact. I tried to take a wee video of the doves to post, but sadly, could not get my camera (new — I don’t know how to operate it properly yet) to work.

I’ll just have to hope that they come back and I can try again.

Delighted to know that in a few months there will be some young mourning doves around my yard.

© BCP 2011

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