Mark Peck knows his woodcocks

The first bird hike of my Naturalist Training Program, at the Koffler Scientific Reserve, was led by Mark Peck, a Royal Ontario Museum technician in the Natural History History Department, where he oversees the ornithology collection. Mark is pictured (right) before we set out looking for what I thought would be the usual suspects. We did, indeed, see the usual suspects, everything from Red-tailed Hawk to the ubiquitous Chickadee. A little further along: a Turkey Vulture and then a Brown Creeper...and so it went. After a while, Mark stopped beside a low-lying grove of alders and instructed our group to spread out and proceed slowly though the trees in an attempt to flush out American Woodcocks. He said the wettish alder grove looked like perfect habitat for American Woodcocks. I haven't seen a woodcock for ages and it was only April 2nd, so was I was quietly skeptical. Within a minute we flushed up five woodcocks! Everyone got a good, if not long, look at these fast flyers and for many if was their first time seeing this interesting species. Mark said that woodcocks, along with the Kildeer, are often the first shorebirds to return in the spring. Apparently, as long as the ground has thawed, woodcocks can probe with their long, tapering bills, into soft soil or mud looking for earthworms. The photo below, from the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, shows the distinctive colouring, markings and shape of this plump, little gamebird (10-12"), with the large dark eyes set high on the forehead. Females are considerably larger than males. Much discussion about woodcocks ensued and then I learned that this bird is also commonly called a "Timberdoodle". I'm good at remembering the important stuff.
I'm really liking this course. BtheB

First time in Jamaica

Linda and I spent last week at Runaway Bay in Jamaica. Snorkelling and birdwatching were high on the list of things to do. High winds, all week, kept the snorkelling to a minimum, but I did add 11 birds to my life list, which now sits at 386. Jamaica is a lush, beautiful island. The food, music (reggae) and swimming were great. It doesn't take long to see that the Jamaican people live a hard life by our standards, but everyone seems to be trying their best to get by.
One of the hawkers, on a nearby beach, was an middle-age lady named Gloria. I paid her to sit down with Linda and I, for a few minutes in her little shack, and to briefly tell us her story. It was an eye-opener and I admired her determination to provide for a family of 10 children as a single-parent. It was the best 20 bucks I spent all week.
Two of the 11 'lifer' birds I saw were hummingbirds: the Jamaican Mango and the Vervain Hummingbird. The one hummingbird I especially hoped to see was the Streamer Tail, known locally as the 'Long-tailed Doctor Bird' and, by most estimations, the most spectacular West Indian hummingbird (see attached internet photo below). It's green and black body is only 4.25" long but it has two long, black, streamer feathers which emit a whirring sound in flight. It is the most abundant and widespread bird in Jamaica, and yet, I failed to see it. Oh well, it's just one of a number of reasons to re-visit this lovely island one day, hopefully.
BtheB

Horsing around with grandkids

It was a beautiful spring day for Linda and me to take in the Schomberg Agricultural Society's 'David & Goliath' Farm Tour 2009, with our two oldest grandkids, William and Emondine. The 'David & Goliath' theme meant that we would see miniature horses up to giant draft horses. The kids had a great time and so did we. The photo at top, shows a mighty Belgian mare and her 4-day-old son, in a stable at Hugh Haven Farms, just north of Schomberg, in West Gwillimbury Township.

The Hughes farm has been in the family since 1828 (181 years)! They currently have 17 Belgians, including 2 stallions, and expect 6 more foals this year, in addition to the little (??) guy above. William and Emmy found a perch, on top of some hay bales, in the 159-year-old barn, to take in the proceedings. I love this time of year.

BtheB

This week's haiku

Kleptomania's bad

But when it gets really bad

Take something for it

Mice in the treetops

This is a photo of Monika Halvelka and a White-footed Mouse, during a ramble, at the Koffler Scientific Reserve last week. Monika is a University of Toronto professor and small-animal mammalogist at the UofT's Erindale campus in Mississauga, Ontario. She was a guest lecturer at my Natural History/Docent Training course last week. She stopped at a tree with what appeared to be a bird-box mounted on it, at about chest height. She reached inside and pulled out this groggy little guy. He was in a state of torpor.
White-footed Mice are excellent tree climbers (great swimmers, too). I was surprised to learn they will spend the winter in covered-over, abandoned bird nests, high in hardwood trees, or in tree cavities when they occur. Although they can enter a state of torpor for several hours, they do not go into true hibernation and therefore they cache food in the fall for the winter. The little guy above had stored several acorns into the tree box, from which Monika had pulled him. These tree boxes in the Koffler Scientific Reserve, at Jokers Hill in King Township, are artificial nests which make scientific observation of the mice much easier for researchers and students.
These mice usually eat at night and their diet consists of nuts, seeds, berries, grains, fruits, fungi and insects.
Maybe in another 10 million years, these little creatures will evolve to have wings and they'll fly around in the treetops, as well as nest there. Who knows? We do have flying squirrels, right?
BtheB

Talking dirty

My friend, Pieter, at Toad Hill, near Mansfield in the Mulmur Hills, recently e-mailed me a fascinating, albeit lengthy, piece entitled: "The Origin & Common Usage of British Swear-words". It was very informative and somewhat titillating. I won't post it here, but it does start with this warning: "This entry discusses the etymology and application of a selection of words that, to varying degrees, can be considered vulgar and offensive. As a necessity, this entails the use of said words, and it is strongly advised that, should you find such words distressing or inappropriate, you do not read on beyond this point". Well, that stopped me dead in my tracks. Yeah, sure it did!
It went on dredging up many old and new, rude and crude words, names and phrases. Many of them referred to body parts and body functions. It was all very educational and I was familiar with one or two of the terms. I did have an ever-so-slightly queasy feeling at the end of it, but felt I should reply to Pieter's generous sharing of the information.
I sent him the following haiku, and directed him especially to an acronymical riddle in the third line. You, dear reader, are invited to solve the riddle also. And for those of you who need the benefit of academic research to solve the riddle, I direct you to http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A753527 .

Scatolinguistics

Sometimes takes my breath away

Swearing has its tangs

Please comment, if you wish.

BtheB

The Redpolls prevailed

After writing the blog below, I thought there might be a skeptic or two thinking I might be exaggerating the numbers of Pine Siskins and Redpolls, so I decided to try to get a photo, through the livingroom window, to give credence to my numbers claim. In the photo above, there are 82 birds at my largest feeder. There are two more feeders nearby. Most of the birds in this shot are Redpolls. There are a couple of Pine Siskins and Tree Sparrows, but after the grand congregation this morning, the Redpolls have prevailed. Inexplicably, they swelled their numbers from 50 to over a 100, between this morning and this afternoon, and sent the Pine Siskins packing - except for a couple who decided if they couldn't fight the Redpolls, they'd join them. Gotta run now...time to fill up the feeders, again.

BtheB

100 Redpolls & Pine Siskins

Photo by Don Norman/King City

This morning set some kind of a record, I think. I had over 50 Common Redpolls and 50 Pine Siskins at my backyard feeders, at the same time. The Juncos, Chickadees, Tree Sparrows, and other usual suspects were completely intimidated. Even the Mourning 'Duuuvs' were sitting on the sidelines, waiting their turn. A few weeks ago the Pine Siskins showed up in a horde, but disappeared one day when I forgot to load up the feeders. A few days later the Redpolls showed up and and have been around ever since. They are much more forgiving, it seems, when I am tardy replenishing the feeders. But this morning the Pine Siskins returned to duke it out with the Redpolls. All hell broke loose. At this rate, I'll be filling the feeders twice a day.

BtheB

Too soon old - too late smart

I thought I understood the old Yiddish proverb 'too soon old - too late smart', but it's only now, in my grey-beard years, that I am painfully experiencing and emotionally appreciating the wisdom of those words. I have begun a Natural History course, through the University of Toronto's Continuing Education Program, at the Koffler Scientific Reserve, located at Jokers Hill, in King Township. It's a 22-week program that includes classroom lectures and studies, plus outdoor exploration of the physical environment of the Oak Ridges Moraine.

It is both mentally and physically challenging. -21C was the temperature on the first day we hiked through Jokers Hill. There were 17 of us ploughing through a good foot of snow and I kept bringing up the rear. That was so I could walk in the trail broken by the previous 16 hikers. Even so, I was still exhausted at the end of an hour and a half, and was extremely glad to get back at the classroom and my thermos of tea.

At the end of the 22 weeks, we will earn a certificate that allows us to be a docent at the Koffler Scientific Reserve or any other conservation facility, on or near the Oak Ridges Moraine. Never having gone to college or university, I have no acedemic degrees. Becoming a docent sounds pretty good to me, though. I looked up docent in my Oxford English Reference Dictionary, but alas, it is not listed. So, I 'Googled' it. Here's what Wikipedia had to say. In American English (but not in British English, where the word is not used), the word docent has two meanings: firstly, a professor or university lecturer; and secondly, the corps of volunteer guides who staff museums and other educational institutions. Docent is derived from the present participle (docens, docentis) of the Latin word docere, meaning "to teach".

Wow! I'm going to be a teacher...an educator...who knew? When the time comes, I'll probably start out by instructing my grandchildren on things like slime mould and poisonous mushrooms. I'm sure I'll have more to say about this, plus have some photographs, as the months pass between now and next June. Until then, carpe diem. That's some more Latin, which roughly translated means "Get off your ass and do something!".
Please comment if you wish. BtheB

Redpolls and Starlings show up

European Starling photo by R. Hays Cummings

It was -25C this morning, but not a breath of wind, mercifully. The bird feeders were almost empty. In addition to the usual hungry suspects, the newly-arrived Pine Siskins have swelled their number to 45! They're eating me out of house and home. Now the Redpolls have arrived. There were four of them this morning, jostling with the Goldfinches, Tree Sparrows, Juncos and Pine Siskens for the Black Niger seed.

I finally got around to putting out some suet balls this week. I was hoping for woodpeckers, of course, but the first arrivals were five Starlings...a bit of a surprise. While a year-around resident of Southern Ontario, in winter Starlings usually forage in large flocks, in the hundreds or thousands, where there is a good food supply. I'm hoping the five Starlings in my backyard, right now, keep the suet balls their very own secret.

Starlings, in the winter, look quite different. In winter, they are covered in hundreds of white spots and I think they are quite interesting to see. The internet photo above, taken by R. Hays Cummings, of Ohio, shows how striking the Starling's winter plumage is.

Below is an interesting internet photo of painted feathers, emailed to me by old friend, Peter Marsh. I don't know the identity of either the painter or photographer, but there is a lovely symbiotic message in the artist's presentation of image and materials.

BtheB

Pine Siskins at the feeder

Pine Siskin photo by D. H. Baker

A flock of about 20 Pine Siskins showed up at our bird feeders this weekend and they were a welcome addition to the winter-feeding menagerie we have been enjoying so much. When I went out to fill up the feeders for them, they landed at my feet - very tame, indeed. So far this winter we have had Red-breasted and White-breasted Nuthatches, Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, Goldfinches, House and Purple Finches, House and Tree Sparrows, Juncos, Chickadees, Blue Jays, Cardinals, Mourning Doves, and now Pine Siskins. I'll have to get out and stock up on seed tomorrow, as I'm getting low and with the really cold temperatures predicted for this week, the birds will all be ravenous. UPDATE: Make that 35 Pine Siskins - Jan. 12/09

BtheB

My holiday poem

BLACK Snow

You've heard of black ice.

It's not very nice.

It occurs only once in a while.

But what I dread more,

Dumped right at my door,

Is Black Snow in a whacking great pile.

With a rumble and roar,

About half-past four,

It arrives while I'm still in my bed.

I trudge from my hovel,

Armed with a shovel;

The Black Snow is as high as my head.

I huff and I puff

And shovel the stuff,

'Til I gasp: "Please God, have some pity!"

But I know that tomorrow,

Much to my sorrow,

Black Snow will arrive in King City.

Now you want to know,

Why call it Black Snow,

When everyone knows that snow's white?

"Send out the snowplows!"

Mayor Black, she avows,

"And fill in each driveway by dawn's light."

Barrythe Birder

2008

...with apologies to Her Worship, Marg Black

Who is L. J. Gardener?

Someone calling himself, or herself, L. J. Gardener, responded to my last blog (about the unfolding Ottawa Operetta), with the observation that I still appeared confused and with this recollection: "I know a man who named his four cats Pierre, Elliott, True and Deau". Yes, it was me who once gave four adorable kittens those silly names, but that tidbit of feline nonsense dates back 40 years! I have no idea who L. J. Garderer is. Is L. J. Gardener a trifler, a stalker, what? This is an intriguing little mystery and I hope the mysterious commentator leaves inadvertent future clues as to his or her identity. Is it someone who I have paddled a canoe with, got drunk with, owe money to, lusted in my heart for? If L. J. Gardener continues with his or her comments, under that innocuous nom de plume, I shall find you out.
Daring you, BtheB

Be careful what you wish for

When I proposed that Stephane Dion should ask the Governor-General to form a coalition government three months ago (see my blog of Aug. 26), I had no idea how such a simple idea could get so complicated, so quickly. But once again, I failed to consider the relentless, blind ambition of Stephan Harper. The inimitable Rick Mercer, in today's Globe & Mail calls the the two Steves: "...these damaged, needy men...". Would that it ended there, but the whole of Canada is now damaged and needy.
Stephane has gone from being Dion the Decent, to Dion the Ditherer, to Dion the Dolt. The main problem for the proposed coalition is that Monsieur Dion is no leader. He is nothing more than a caretaker now. Let Michael Ignatieff and Bob Rae carry the ball from this point. As for Gilles Duceppe, he must be greatly amused to be constantly wooed one moment and demonized the next, by all and sundry. Make no mistake though, he is the kingmaker here. It shows unmistakeably on his placid face whenever the coalition's Three Wise Men sit before the press. Whoever is prime minister in the new year, be he Tory or be he Grit, it will happen only when Duceppe says "sit". Is it too much to ask that Stephen Harper leave politics at the same time as his buddy George Bush does. Is he not the crisis for Canada?
Please comment if you wish.
BarrytheBirder

Freedom Rock at Nottawasaga Bluffs

That's my friend, Pieter Thoenes, in the top photo, standing atop the Nottawasaga Bluffs, just west of Creemore, Ontario, in Grey County. Pieter has a very Dutch name, is English through-and-through, and has lived in Canada for many, many years. He was and still is a world-traveler. Most recently, he and his wife, Annie, spent almost a month in the South Pacific. Pieter and I like to get together and go hiking and a week ago we explored the trails, crevices and caves of the Nottawasaga Bluffs Conservation Area. Part of the Bruce Trail runs along the bluffs. Freedom Rock is the name given to two facing walls of a crevice and the cave at the bottom. Someone, a mystery person, carved dozens of aphorisms in the rock faces of Freedom Rock many years ago. The sentiments expressed by the carver seem to me to be the work of an agrarian Libertarian.

Consider these examples: 'Individualists are diamonds'...'To be fully educated one must farm 5 yrs'...'The greatest freedom of all is to spend your own money'. In the second photo, above, Pieter stands inside the Freedom Rock cave (which is known to some as 'The Tomb') and near to an inscription that reads: 'Single people are economic slaves of the state'. Unfortunately, someone has recently coloured in the lettering in an attempt to make it more legible. In the third photo, I too am in the cave inspecting the carving technique of a short and sweet message that says a lot in just two words. As a former stone-carver, I have an idea of how much time and effort went into this work: lots! Much of the work is spread over sheer rock walls that are 30' high. Locals say it was done over a number of years, but no one seems to know the person. The caves and crevices of Nottawasaga Bluffs are just one very interesting aspect of what I think is one of the best hiking areas, in this part of Ontario. I can't recommend it enough.

Please comment if you wish.

BtheB

Jaxon's Walking-out Ceremony

The little fellow on the right, in the picture above, is my grand-nephew, Jaxon. He lives in the Cree village of Wemindji, on the eastern shore of James Bay, in northern Quebec. Jaxon is nearly 18 months old and a couple of months ago he participated in his village's walking-out ceremony. He was dressed as a goose-hunter for his part in the festivities and, judging by the photographs, looked quite dashing, I must say.
Jaxon's grandfather (my younger sister's husband) was a full-blooded Cree, which made Jaxon's father a half-blooded Cree. Jaxon's mum is white, therefore Jaxon is a quarter-blood Cree. The thinning of the blood notwithstanding, Jaxon, so far, is a full participant in his native canadian heritage. Part of the traditional Cree native culture celebrates the early coming of age of infants who are old enough to walk. A symbolic ceremony marks the expectation of what will be the productive behaviour of every growing individual, the embracing of the collective objective of work, and the resultant worth of every person in Cree Society.
The walking-out ceremony sees the children dressed in traditional native clothing and equipped with toy versions of the tools used by Cree hunters - guns and knives for the boys, and scraping instruments, bannock sticks and firewood for the girls. The elders of the community send the children from a ceremonial tent to parade themselves, and the decorated animal facsimiles they have 'hunted', before other members of the village. Sometimes the boys are assisted to fire a rifle into the air. The children return to the elders and present their catches, for which they receive approving hugs and kisses. The ceremony is normally held in the morning, with the ceremonial tent facing the east and the morning sun - a constant symbol of optimism and hope for the future. After the ceremony, refreshments, story-telling and lots of laughs are enjoyed by all.
Below is a picture of Jaxon and his friends sitting on a woodpile and posing for photographs. Many thanks to my sister, Denise, for sharing these adorable photos with the rest of our family.
Please comment if you wish. BtheB

Focussing on a barn

The photograph above is of the barn at Cold Creek Forest & Wildlife Area on the 11th Concession of King Township. It's a pretty static shot with no particular focus point, but it's texture and colours and content stir within me powerful memories of my grandfather's farm and the times I spent there as a child. As I stare at this photograph, which is currently the wallpaper on my computer screen, I decompress, relax, and slip into a few timeless moments. It's as though the stone, mortar and wood in the image are drawing me in to a virtual reality where the simplicity, innocence and safety of my childhood embraces me once again. In other words, I really feel good when I look at this picture. I thought I'd share it. I hope you get a good feeling too.

BtheB

Ogden Nash on birds...

The song of canaries
Never varies,
And when they're moulting

They're quite revolting.

The ostrich roams the broad Sahara.

It's mouth is wide, its neck is narra.

It has such long and lofty legs.

I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.

A wonderful bird is the pelican!

His bill holds more than his belican.

He can take in his beak

Food enough for a week

But I'm darned if I know how the helican.

The grackle's voice is less than mellow,

his heart is black, his eye is yellow.

He bullies more attractive birds

With hoodlum deeds and vulgar words,

And should a human interfere,

Attacks the human in the rear.

One cannot help but deem the grackle

An ornithological debacle.

...and one by Nash wannabee, Jack Prelutsky:

Do not approach an emu.

The bird does not esteem you.

It wields a quick and wicked kick

That's guaranteed to cream you.

Family Photo at Kettleby Fair

Each fall, the historic King Township village of Kettleby celebrates its heritage with a main street fair. One the settler families of Kettleby was the Shanks, who were ancestors of my wife Linda. It seemed only proper therefore that Linda and I, and our kids and grandkids, have our picture taken while enjoying last month's Kettleby fair.

"Michaelle? Stephane here. I'd like to form a government".

Just because Stephen Harper is fed up leading a minority government, that doesn't mean he has to cram another election down our throats. Let's just switch from Stephen to Stephane and let the Liberals have a go at it. If Mr. Harper shuts down his government, why not let Monsieur Dion go to Madame Jean, our Governor-General and tell her that he wants to form a government. All he would need is the support of the The Bloc and NDP (they've got nothing to lose) and what could she say? I can't think of a good reason for her to say no. But I'm no expert on constitutional matters or federal governance. Where is Eugene Forsey when we need him? It would sound better coming from him than me.
God, how I'd love to see the Tory apple cart upset and that smirk wiped from Stephen Harper's face. But it's not going to happen because Mr. Dion is too anxious to go to the election polls...the opinion polls be damned. Besides, what's another $300 million? Or another $300 million after that, if no one wins a majority. $300,000,000 (looks even bigger with all those zeros) is a spit in the bucket, right? A mere pittance for a man to prove to a nation that he is its saviour. Which reminds me, where is my bucket? I've made myself nauseous.
BtheB