LaSalle Park and the DesJardins Canal

      During the recent strike by Canada Post workers (still unresolved) Miriam was entrusting her ETSY shipments to Chit Chat, and we journeyed down to Burlington each week to deliver her packages. It always made sense to combine the practical reason for the journey with a little birding.

04 December, 2024

LaSalle Park and Marina, Burlington, ON

     LaSalle is a place that never disappoints. As soon as we had parked the car, while enjoying hot coffee and a muffin, Gadwalls (Mareca strepera) and a Common Goldeneye (Bucephala clangula) streamed by, forsaking the shelter of the inner harbour for more productive feeding opportunities on Lake Ontario.

     Common Goldeneye is a bird that really proclaims its name.

     American Black Duck (Anas rubipres), a species not always easy to find, is reliable at LaSalle. 

     These two, keeping company with a Mallard (Anas platyrynchos), are rotund and healthy. Friendly humans bringing food no doubt contribute to this state of affairs.

     There does not seem to have been a general arrival of winter ducks, so we were happy to see a lone female Greater Scaup (Aythya marila).

    A raft of Mallards enjoyed a spell on the water.

     Canvasback (Aythya valsinaria) is one species that seems to have already taken up residence in their usual numbers. A female looked exceptionally lovely, I thought.

     Not to be outdone a handsome male cruised into view.

     Bufflehead (Bucephala albeola) is an exceptionally appealing little duck, the male looking quite different from the female.

Bufflehead ♂

Bufflehead ♀

     I am very fond of gulls, and am sometimes dismayed when they are overlooked at best, or reviled at worst. Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis) is beautiful, common and worthy of our study and respect.

     For those anxious to learn more about moult, there is no better subject, and in a given flock it is possible to observe every phase the bird passes through.

     We have days to celebrate just about everything, so I think it's well past time for Gull Appreciation Day!

     As long as there is open water a few American Coots (Fulica americana) can generally be found at LaSalle.

     Actually in recent years open water has become the default condition; finding ice is the problem.

     This very attractive duck is a Mallard hybrid, although I remain uncertain as to the other side of its parentage.

    It has associated with its wild congeners for four or five years now and is affectionately called Coco by some.

     Rock Doves (Columba livia) waste no time in letting you know that they are anxious to keep you company - as long as you bring food!

     Okay, you made your point!

     A female Mallard looked content bobbing gently on the waves.

     One can never undervalue the elegance of a Trumpeter Swan (Cygnus buccinator).

     Another female Mallard was quietly minding her own business.

     Until she received a visit from one of her domestic relatives, that is.

     I am not sure whether she left in a huff or whether they decided to take a walk together.

      These days, rain often comes sporadically, but often in deluges, and erosion occurs quickly. 

    Some trees, exposed to strong winds or more downpours, may be in danger of toppling.

11 December, 2024

DesJardins Canal, Dundas, ON

     Initially we went to LaSalle Park and Marina, and sat in the car to have our coffee and muffin, but it was raining steadily and we decided to move over to the DesJardins Canal where we hoped better weather would prevail

     It was a good decision; although it was overcast and a little gloomy the rain held off.

     It was not long before we saw a female Hooded Merganser (Lophodytes cucullatus) and scanned for her male companion without success - for the moment.

    A pair of Mallards, by contrast, with pair bond  firmly established shared a perch together.

     A sparkling male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) completed a trio of waterfowl before we had barely moved from the car.

     Given that there was no snow on the ground, there were splashes of colour here and there.

Genus Buddleja

Genus Barbula

Genus Lobularia

Genus Sedum

     It's always delightful to see Common Snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus).

     Beavers have been active!

     It was merganser day on the canal!

     Most Pied-billed Grebes (Podilymbus podiceps) have long since migrated, but this individual decided that staying around was advantageous.

      It was lunch time and we made our way back to the car, accompanied by a male Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis), perhaps wondering if we had seed for him.

     Several American Tree Sparrows (Spizelloides arborea) hovered around too.

     A Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) flew in from the opposite bank of the canal, but left again almost as soon as it arrived.

     Another vehicle pulled into the parking area and the driver began tossing out whole slices of white bread.

     It looked like the gulls and the mallards were as addicted to junk food as are humans!

     I am sure that our lunch was far healthier - and we weren't quite as messy either!

The Bold and Confiding Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus)

     Even though Christmas comes and goes without celebration or fuss, I received an amazing Santa gift.

      Louise de Kiriline Lawrence is unique in so many ways in the storied history of Canadian ornithology, the author of many books, both for adults and children.

      This book, an anthropomorphic account told by a Black-capped Chickadee named Peet, is written for a child, but it matters not, for good literature is good literature. To the extent that it is possible I put myself in the mind of a youngster, ten or eleven years old perhaps, and marvelled at the information gained about Canadian avifauna in so delightful a manner. I would have learned without knowing it.

     In addition the book is charmingly illustrated by Thoreau MacDonald, a leading exponent of black-and-white illustrations; the artwork is simply splendid. MacDonald gravitated towards black-and-white artwork as a way of coping with colour blindness.

     So, in one volume one has the impassioned outpourings of a distinguished (and since her death, revered) Canadian ornithologist and an equally exalted Canadian illustrator who has few equals in his chosen genre.

     Such a gift!

     But the purpose of this account is not to extol the virtues of the book, but to reflect on the pleasure of communion with chickadees. It was de Kiriline's statement in the Introduction that engaged my thoughts.

"I fell in love with Peet, my Black-capped Chickadee, the moment he curled his firm little claws around my finger to get the sunflower seed I held out to him. That elfin grip was like the handclasp of friendship from another world. From out of the mysterious spheres of Nature this elusive sprite had come to me of his own free will. Without fear or hesitation, with one airy gesture, he cancelled all the inherent distrust between man and the untamed bird. It was a wonderful moment that I shall never forget."

     It struck me immediately that this reflected my own experience, expressed so eloquently by de Kiriline, for whom English was not her first language. I don't remember my exact first experience, but the sense of joy has been embedded within me since the first moment a chickadee landed on my hand.

     There is a feeling verging on metaphysical that a bird weighing a mere 10 -14 grams (half an ounce), whose life I could extinguish merely by closing my hand and crushing it, is willing to trust me and share its world with me. I know of no one who has enjoyed the experience who does not feel the same way.

     You might be surprised (or perhaps not) at the number of people who have asked me to take them to where they can feed a chickadee. People young and old, from experienced birdwatcher to absolute novice, scientist and layman, man, woman and child. Their reaction is universal. Joy, pure unalloyed joy, a wellspring of emotion from deep within, themes of connection to our own origins.

     Surely little is more sorely needed during these terrifying days of environmental destruction and the daily experience of a world that is unravelling around us, than an intimate connection, or a reconnection, with nature. Therein lies sanity, therein lies peace, therein lies the fundamental truth that we are all connected. It is not "we" and "they", it is "us."

     In his indelibly prescient and visionary book Eaarth, Bill McKibben makes it very clear that the Earth we once knew no longer exists.  We are moving into the murky land of the unknown, where soaring global temperatures and all the disturbances that will result, will change the very nature of our lives. Indeed they are already occurring. Just ask the Californian whose forests and woodlands are ravaged by wildfires year after year, fires that start earlier and burn hotter and longer. Ask the citizens of Jasper, AB or Lytton, BC whose towns were destroyed. Ask the Inupiaq of Alaska as they watch the methane bubbling up in the waters of melted permafrost, who are forced to become spectators in the termination of their traditional way of life.

     Might I hold high the hope that a chickadee will remain a connection to all that I cherish? Is it too much to ask that we should permit this fellow traveller still to commune with us? Every foolish action we take, every failed climate conference, every denial of the truth before our eyes jeopardizes all life, not only our own.

     Louise de Kiriline Lawrence waxes poetic about "the handclasp of friendship from another world." 

     May it never be offered in vain.

Snowy Owl (Bubo scandicaus)

"Whole ecosystems are threatened, and the losses have started to feed on themselves ."

Elizabeth Kolbert 

   Over many years I have searched every winter for Snowy Owls and have had great good fortune in finding them. Understanding the habitat they prefer in their winter quarters is the key to success, and we are fortunate that the Region of Waterloo and Wellington County have for many years hosted reliable and sometimes large populations of this magnificent bird.

     

     Last winter, Miriam and I were unable to find even one. This winter, so far, despite scouring the areas where they have taken up residence year after year, we have failed again. The winter is not over, of course but our initial forays do not bode well. We have also noticed severely reduced numbers of that other enigmatic raptor from the north, Rough-legged Hawk (Buteo lagopus).

     Climate breakdown is having very serious consequences for Snowy Owls and all other arctic species.

     Snowy Owls breed on the treeless tundra and build their nests on the ground. The Arctic is heating up faster than almost any other region on Earth, and the permafrost, ground frozen for millennia, is thawing. The terrain is sinking and new ponds have formed. In addition to eliminating nesting habitat the meltwater is flooding the burrows of Lemmings (genus Lemmus), the principal component of the Snowy Owl's diet, essential to the growth of its young.

     So, in one stroke of human-caused catastrophe, we have robbed this iconic bird of home and food.

     This does not even begin to address the consequences of carbon and methane release. Or the madness of beginning to drill for more fossil fuels in areas like the Arctic National Wildlife refuge.

     It causes me immense sadness that I may have seen my last Snowy Owl, or at the very least may no longer have such familiarity with them. 

     Such are the distances the remaining members of their kind now have to wander in search of suitable breeding grounds, a bird banded in the Ottawa Valley in Ontario was recovered in Siberia.

     It is profoundly sad that humans have so affected the planet that extinction is proceeding at a pace that far exceeds anything that has ever occurred in the entire 4.6 billion year history of the Earth. Entire ecosystems are being obliterated and the Snowy Owl is just one victim of this human indifference.

     It will not end well for owls, but it will not end well for humans either. We have met the enemy and it is us.

     John Donne's truth is immortal:

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.” 

     Make no mistake, the bell tolls for us all and we are our own bellringers. As goes the owl, so go we.