RBG Hendrie Valley, Burlington. ON. November 7, 2024. With our fall transects complete, I walked the valley today hoping to sustain some sort of birding momentum. But it was slim pickings, we had seen the best of it and watched it drain away.
This Eastern Screech Owl should have satisfied me but we see it there half the time, so really not a surprise. We usually admire this same grey individual and have for several years, at least we assume it’s the same bird. We might go on making that assumption were it not for the fact that every now and then, a rufous look-alike takes its place. Like people, this species comes in different colours so no big mystery there but what it tells us is that at least two birds share the same roost. But on what terms? Are they siblings, a bonded pair, one at a time, or squeezing in together? With those questions unanswered I have to conceded that just seeing it is pretty special, although not the sort of special I was looking for today.
I had a non-birder companion with me, Rod. He’s not a muddy hiking boots type but he showed polite interest when I pointed out a few birds: White–throated Sparrow (2 or 3) , Dark–eyed Junco (1), Cedar Waxwings (16) and a Wood Duck, his were grunted acknowledgements mostly; until I pointed out this Great Blue Heron. It stopped him dead in his tracks.
With a little instruction he had my binoculars onto the bird and… Wow! Rod is a very skilled watercolour artist and was quick to explain his proposed choice of paint colour, Paynes Gray, and how the fallen-leaves-on-water background was perfect. I’d never looked at it that way, Our Bird of the Day.
It always seems to catch me off guard just how empty the place becomes in November. There’s a pause after the birds of summer have gone and before the birds of winter move in. They may be out there, not yet pressed for food or shelter, but when winter closes in they’ll find both in this steep-sided valley of woods and wetland.
Westdale, Hamilton. ON. November 1, 2024. Although not cold it was certainly November-ish this morning. With sudden gusts hurling fallen leaves back skyward and a ceiling of torn grey cloud, my companion and I struggled to count waterfowl species by the dozens and hundreds. Scattered over wide waters were Northern Shovelers, Green-winged Teal, Gadwall, Mallards, American Wigeons and many more. All hungrily refuelling as they retreat from northern breeding grounds and facing a long journey ahead to warmer waters.