Author: Peter T

January 8 2026. Haldimand County, Ontario. A bright sunshine day in January is a rarity and on this, right around lunch time, a bit of take-a-chance-on-it birding beckoned.  A friend accepted the challenge and we made an afternoon drive to the next county over, farmland of wide flat fields. I told my friend that this is Short-eared Owl and Northern Harrier country,  and possibly Snow Buntings too, but with a couple of caveats: For the owls we’d have to hang around until late dusk, and buntings are more easily found when there’s good snow cover – and there wasn’t any.  Still, it was a bit of birding with potential, and you never know.

I forgot to include Rough-legged Hawks as a possibility and was a little chagrined when one appeared far off across a field of stubble but thrilled at the same time because it’s been a few years. Rough-legged Hawks breed in the tundra of arctic and subarctic Canada and cross the boreal forest to spend a few winter months in our open country. We don’t see many, but when we do it’s special.

We had no luck on the owls, harriers or buntings but did well with three or four Rough-legged Hawks.  Sometimes when they’re on a wheeling soar, they drift far and it can be hard to decide whether you’re seeing different individuals or the same one.  We were lucky though to see two at fairly close quarters and separately.

I never see Rough-legged Hawks without remembering a pair from some fifteen years ago. It won’t hurt to re-tell the story: I was driving around this same corner of the world and far to my right at the back of a big white field, I could see movement under a large, bare oak, I pulled over and stopped. The activity was an erratic wing-flapping and tumbling.  It took a while before I was able to make out that it really was birds, hawks of some kind, and that there were two of them.  But when I did, I saw that they were Rough-legged Hawks; a good winter sighting. Fortunately, I had my camera ready and took several reasonably good, but very longshot photos. What the interaction was about I have no idea, it was some kind of squabbling competition, the birds seemed to tussle, skip and pull at each other’s flapping wings. Rough-legs are known to play aerial-tag in small groups, perhaps this was the mid-winter version. Eventually one broke off the play and flew up to the branches above, game over.

To see two Rough-legs at once and to witness this kind of interaction, was new to me and I haven’t seen anything like it since. But the intrigue of that play, or whatever it was, was topped by a surprise discovery later. When I looked closely at my photos, I was at first astonished and then laughed loudly to see that two barn cats had watched this show from the comfort of a sheltered doorway behind. Look closely.

January 13 2026. Burlington Bay.  ON.  I’ve  turned a couple of corners over the past weeks: I’ve gained revived mobility after three slow months post knee surgery; and today went for an aimless drive around just looking for birds, I haven’t done aimless since Covid. It didn’t start out to be that way, but with an empty afternoon ahead, I drove to the ship canal to admire the many ducks and other waterfowl I knew were there. The canal can be a winter birding hotspot attracting thousands of diving ducks gathered for an apparent banquet of fresh-water mollusks.

Road access was limited by new fencing palisades, but with some difficulty I was able to scan the canal’s large rafts of Long–tailed Ducks and Lesser Scaup (and maybe Greater Scaup too, hard to tell and too cold to invest much time.)

This is a grubby part of the world at times, winter especially.  Can’t be helped, our neighbouring big brother city is Canada’s beating heart of primary industry, steelmaking looms large.  It’s hard to find colour here sometimes but it helps that we sit on and around some large bodies of water and where there’s water, open water, there’s birds.

Far out on the as yet unfrozen harbour were large wind-blown rafts of Common and Red–breasted Mergansers. They were a very long way out and close to vanishing, they taxed my rusty identification skills.

After a couple of birding stops I could see that I was on a birding-crawl, aimless now, so followed my nose the long way around the harbour. In a quiet backwater edge, I found a large group of Northern Shovelers, hunkered down and heads tucked under wings.  Such handsome birds, now apparently dozing through winter. Vulnerable I thought, though presumably someone was on sentry duty. One of those encounters where I wondered what do they think about on these long winter days; and is thinking part of their existence anyway.

Here and there I accumulated a mental list for the harbour tour adding Trumpeter and Mute Swans, American Coots, American Black Ducks, Green–winged Teal, White–winged Scoter, Hooded Mergansers, Common Goldeneye, and Mallards and Canada Geese of course. Then just as I thought I was done for the day, I binocular-scanned to a small offshore flotilla of Canvasbacks. I inwardly cheered, My Birds of the Day.

Canvasbacks are a rather highborn looking duck whose unhappy disadvantage is that they are considered one of America’s dinner table favourites, roasted and served with fried hominy and red currant. They look better, I think, served up like the ones above.

July 15 2016. Flamborough On.  Twenty years on and I clearly remember this bird. Circumstances have me anchored at home this month, unable to go very far and while idly spinning back through years of photographs I landed on several of this Field Sparrow. Taken nearly ten years ago it came right back to mind. I thought I’d share it.

Mid July and a hot summer day, I had hauled my way to the top of a large hill that overlooks a village crossroad. The hill is not very high but rises abruptly. It is open-topped with a spectacular all-around view that has you tracing roads and trying to put names to places that have become bare smudges on the horizon.

I know this was not my first visit to this hill, it’s a longish drive from home but a peaceful retreat on a summer afternoon and the birding makes the climb worthwhile.  It’s a sure place for Grasshopper Sparrows where the vegetation is parched and thinnest, Song Sparrows almost anywhere and this singing Field Sparrow who was working the length of a hawthorn hedge, up and down, making sure we knew the limits of his territory.

When we hear a Field Sparrow’s trailing song, like a ping-pong ball bouncing to a rest,  we know to check woody or brushy edges. I only feature him here because he made a lasting impression and at this time of year with snow squalls a possibility, is a summer bird memory to hold on to.

October 14. 2025. Valley Inn. Royal Botanical Gardens, ON. Canada.  Word reached me that a Wilson’s Phalarope was hanging around a shallow-water mudflat not far from home. I wanted to see it. Phalaropes are dainty shorebirds, rather ballerina-like and particularly pretty in spring and summer plumage, certainly worth taking the time for, even if now out of its breeding plumage.

The site is well known to the local birding community and although I skipped breakfast and arrived early, a few birders had already settled in. Most hefted cameras with lots of reach, but I wasn’t there for the photograph, I just wanted to see the bird. My camera is light and adaptable, but I only carry it for moments when luck is with me. This bird was about 200M. away, hard to pick out lit by the strong morning sun and easily lost among many gulls.

The mudflat is rather long and narrow with open water left, right and beyond, it is flanked by steep sides, a busy railway to the right and a road and municipal cemetery to the left.  I could see the phalarope, tiny distant and white in the sun, if a tick on a list was important, it was in the bag. But enjoying the bird was what I’d come for, tiny and distant was not nearly good enough.

It’s an odd name phalarope, I could have gone through life none the wiser but age, accumulation and technology bring so much close to hand and I soon found that phalarope means coot-footed, a reference to their lobed coot-like toes.

I made my way up a service road towards the rail line, it took me a little closer and much higher but now I was facing east and looking down for a bird lost somewhere in the sun’s wide reflection and glare, no enjoyment to be had here.

Fearing that the cause was lost I headed back now to the east side, where my car waited for me anyway.  Knowing this other side, the cemetery side, to be rather densely treed I gambled on finding a window to the water, worth a try.  If not I’d head home for breakfast.

I did find that window, beyond the headstones and a little way down the rather scruffy fringe of trees. Perched and peering through the opening I could see my bird, my phalarope, coot-footed, reasonably close and scurrying busily among the gulls, yellowlegs and urban debris. Really not very pretty, but seen and enjoyed for what it was, a Wilson’s Phalarope.

(p.s November 14 2025) Significant to some, but not to me, is that further work by those with time and some of the better expensive equipment determined that this bird was a Red Phalarope.  I’m not sure that I’d seen a Red Phalarope before, not knowingly anyway. I had fun and that’s birding.

October 1 2025. Our house, Burlington, Ontario. By design, our late season back yard has drifted into colourful chaos.  It’s thick and verging on overgrown in places.  We love it, birds do too as well as a couple of neighbourhood cats.  I don’t much care for cats, outdoor cats but supposedly domestic, particularly those that use our place as their toilet; and sometimes snare birds.  I’ll accept though that they probably exert some control on unwanted rodents.

At my desk, sorting photos this afternoon, I became aware of a harsh chatter from just outside the back door. It sounded like a bird, not in distress but emphatic and persistent.  This could be interesting I thought, grabbing my camera and heading for the door. I impressed myself by quickly checking and readying it, set for what just might turn out to be a great photo op. Good call, it was a Carolina Wren, agitated by something and not in the least bit concerned by my sudden appearance.  It was making its way around the posts of our back door arbour or trellis, I’m never quite sure what it’s called, back-lit by the afternoon sun.  I got a couple of evocative photos and then saw a big furry cat scuttle away, out from beneath the clematis tangle.  It was the reason for the ruckus, but I have no idea what it had been doing to so infuriate the wren.

Carolina Wrens have a busybody way about them.  They can be opinionated and vocal often reporting on the affairs of others.  They also like to explore dark corners; places others might avoid.  Some years ago, a Carolina Wren flew into the relative darkness of my office through a window that was barely open.  It was a little baffled but not panicked by the unexpected result.

Today’s Carolina Wren was My Bird of the Day, really the only bird of the day but it made for an interesting few minutes.