Tuesday Rambles with David - The Mill Race, St. Jacobs, ON

 06 October 2020

     The pandemic has meant that we have not been able to meet frequently this year to conduct our normal Tuesday walks, but of late we have ventured out together a few times. It has been possible to maintain a semblance of social distancing, we have dispensed with our customary hugs, and since being outside carries less risk of transmission of the virus we felt safe in resuming our rambles. And eight participants is well below the provincial guidelines for outdoor gatherings.

     Today we were all present, and the Mill Race seemed like a great place to walk. Both Mary and Francine had appointments in the early afternoon, so a local trail demanding only a couple of hours to complete was just the ticket. 

     The Conestogo River, just metres from the parking area, looked tranquil and inviting, tinged by the suffused light of an autumn morn.

     A Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) methodically worked the river in search of breakfast.

     We entered the trail together, eager to explore.

     Falling leaves no doubt evoke in all of us the urge to kick them up to regain the spirit of our erstwhile youth, but perhaps in the twilight of our years a flotilla on the water is more appealing. It is without doubt a tapestry waiting to be painted by a skilled artist.

     From this point on, Miriam yielded the camera-wielding duties to Franc, who in his normal fashion produced images of such crispness and clarity, they beg to be exhibited for all the world to see.

     Many American Robins (Turdus migratorius) were feeding on berries of various kinds, and hatch-year birds joined adults to fatten up for migration, although in recent years many have remained here to tough out the winter.

     Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) is a perennial favourite with everyone, even with non-birders who can barely tell a robin from a pumpkin!

     White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) is often found keeping company with chickadees, especially outside the breeding season, and with a little patience can be coaxed into feeding from the hand. 

      I  think that Franc has captured the very essence of a nuthatch in this picture. It is by any reckoning a gorgeous shot.

     We happened upon a small flock of Pine Siskins (Spinus pinus) busily feeding and going about their business, a gathering that captivated all of us.

     Of course, birds are not the only creatures we encounter on the Mill Race and Eastern Chipmunks (Tamias striatus) have learned to follow humans, where the reward of a free meal may confidently be expected. 

     This little rodent does not encounter the hostility often directed at other members of his extended family. Perhaps its cousins all need to invest in stripes!

     I have saved the best till last. A late migrating Yellow-billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus americanus) darted out from some dense vegetation and perched very obligingly for us in a small tree no more than ten metres away.

     Not only was this bird very accommodating it stayed there for at least ten minutes, all the while in full view. The stillness of the morning air was interrupted only by the staccato fire of Franc's camera.

     This is an uncommon species north of Lake Erie - see Godfrey (1986) - ".....commonly in Lake Erie region but rarely north to Manitoulin Island, Sudbury and Ottawa". It was my first sighting ever in Waterloo Region.

     It is a very handsome bird, and unlike many cuckoos throughout the world is not a brood parasite, but builds a nest and raises its own young.

     As you may see, one rarely experiences a more cooperative bird and Franc was able to capture it in various poses.

    I have to note that this species is a bit of a holy grail for Francine, a bird of her dreams, a fantasy to be fulfilled, a quest for El Dorado. 

     Unfortunately, Francine had walked far ahead of us and was not present for this heavenly apparition!

     There seems to be little doubt that by some karmic engagement, the cuckoo had Francine in mind when it showed up so boldly, anxious to charm her. Where is she, it seemed to say? 

     Finally, having tarried long, and revealed itself in every way possible, having perched, preened and waited, it decided to bid farewell. With a wave of its foot and a cry of "Goodbye" it went on its way.

     Don't fret, Francine. I have lived here for eighteen years and this is my first local Yellow-billed Cuckoo, so I expect that in 2038 it will be your turn.

     A little patience is all that is required!