Tuesday Rambles with David - Riverside Park, Cambridge, ON

11 September 2018

     It was only last winter that Francine and Jim, having driven past Riverside Park many times, decided to drop in and check it out. Since then we have made several outings there and have enjoyed it very much.

     We had often mused about the potential for warblers migrating through in the fall, so it was with this in mind that we organized our Tuesday ramble. Everyone was there except for Mary who is dealing with health issues.

     To no one's surprise American Robin (Turdus migratorius) was ubiquitous, and while it might seem to some that another picture of a robin is superfluous, I think that this image of a young bird is particularly appealing.

     The boardwalk in the winter is a magnet for birds who have quickly clued in to the fact that humans bring bird seed. Obviously, this behaviour is not confined to the winter months, because a little sunflower seed strewn along the rail by Carol and Judy quickly brought in a crowd. Unusual, and especially rewarding, was the arrival of this Rose-breasted Grosbeak (Pheucticus ludovicianus) displaying little trepidation about coming in close to take advantage of the bounty on offer.

     When we first spotted a male Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) it was just starting to feed on the large, juicy caterpillar of a Cecropia Moth (Hyalophora cecropia).

     I suspect we disturbed him because he flew off - but not far.

     It was not long before both male and female cardinals joined the other species to take advantage of the sunflower seeds on the rail. As you may see, moult is fairly advanced in these birds.

     When we checked on the caterpillar a while later it was missing - we concluded that the cardinal had returned to finish off its succulent meal.

     A male Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) was also showing evidence of moult.

     This female, however, was impeccable and quite resplendent in fresh fall attire.

     I am quite sure that wherever there are birds and people who observe them there are also species that are often overlooked due to their familiarity. Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscala) surely falls into this category. 

     It is by any reckoning a stunning species.

     Perhaps we might say the same thing about Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata), a dazzling vision of electric blue, with crest and jaunty mien.

     There are resident Blue Jays and a migratory component from farther north. Recently summer inhabitants of the boreal forests have been leaving and passing through in the hundreds. Today Miriam and I sat on the patio and were enthralled as a steady stream of Blue Jays passed over our heads, the sun glinting off their plumage, their calls resonating through the unusually warm air.

     One does not always have to travel to remote areas to witness the wonders of nature.

     An American Red Squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus) made sure that not all the seeds were taken by the birds.

     A few were eaten, but most were sequestered away for winter storage. We did not begrudge the squirrel its share.

     One of our most widely known, and best loved, birds is the Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) and they certainly look dapper at this time of year.

     A bit of a love/hate relationship exists between people and Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) but I am an unabashed admirer of this species. A flyby is enough to set my heart aflutter. 

         We were all very delighted indeed to see an Olive-sided Flycatcher (Contopus cooperi) high atop a snag. This is a species that has become decidedly scarce in recent years.

      Northern Flickers (Colaptes auratus) are still here to enliven the woodlands, but soon will be departing with the onset of fall.

     You will remember that our original quest was for fall warblers and we spotted about a half dozen species, mostly high in the treetops, however, and with the foliage still intact almost impossible to photograph. 

     An exception was this Black-and-white Warbler (Mniotilta varia) which was in the open briefly.

     Several Bay-breasted Warblers (Setophaga canstanea) were a little lower down and Franc did well to get this picture.

     We walked down a trail that radiates off the parking area, where we had seen Pileated Woodpeckers (Dryocopus pileatus) in the spring, to search for them again. We were not disappointed and it appears as though this largest of all North American woodpeckers had a successful breeding season.

     It was close to lunch time when we parted company, well satisfied with a very pleasant walk and a great assortment of birds. What better way to spend a Tuesday morning? I can't think of one!

Trip to Gaspé, QC, Part 2

13 August 2018

Newport - Île Bonaventure - Newport

     I was up bright and early, following a better night's sleep than the previous night, had a coffee and some cereal, and waited for the others to awaken and get ready for the exciting day ahead.

     Throughout the world there are many great birding spectacles, the huge concentrations of flamingos in East Africa, penguin colonies in Antarctica, the great seabird concentrations on isolated islands and stacks off the coast of Britain, raptor migration through the Isthmus of Panama, the Scarlet Ibises (Eudocimus ruber) coming in to roost at the Caroni Swamp in Trinidad.

     And then there is the phenomenon of the swirling, screaming, gliding, diving, breeding maelstrom of Northern Gannets (Morus bassanus) at the easternmost tip of La Gaspésie in Québec. I have seen some of the other spectacles of nature, I have stood in amazement as I watched, I have felt the lump rise in my throat as I bore witness to primeval nature at its visceral best; and the splendid reality of the gannets of Bonaventure rivals all of this. 

     It has been one of the incredible joys and privileges of my life to share so many of my experiences with Miriam, and there was an added sense of anticipation and excitement at the prospect of sharing it with Franc and Carol, and with Judy.

     "Get up people!" I muttered under my breath. I was anxious to get over to Percé to get in line for the nine o'clock ferry.

     We were there in good time, joined by happy vacationers, all drawn to the island by the birds, but I am sure (for most of them) not realizing exactly what lay in store.

     The boat does a very agreeable circuit, coming close to Percé Rock and circumnavigating Île Bonaventure.

     The town of Percé receded as we moved out towards the island. And the wildlife increased.

    Both Grey Seals (Halichoerus gypus) and Harbour Seals (Phoca vitulina) were plentiful, in the water, and lolling on the rocks, sometimes jostling for space and snapping at each other. Peace was quickly restored, however, and there was no serious conflict.

     It was time for Franc, our master photographer, with equipment resting on both sides of his hips, to swing into action. How he captured some of these shots with the boat rocking the whole time is beyond me.

     Not only that, I am sure that Franc was the only person on the entire boat to see an Atlantic Puffin (Fratercula arctica) zoom by, and he even managed to get a shot. We were trading contact information with other birders on the boat and by the time we realized that Franc was yelling "Puffin" the bird had disappeared.

     A group of young Common Eiders (Somateria mollissima) appeared to have joined together to form a crèche; safety in numbers I suppose.

     A Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) lifted off from the rocks.

     Black Guillemots (Cepphus grylle) were often close to the boat, swimming on the surface and diving to catch fish.

       American Herring Gulls (Larus smithsonianus) presented every stage of plumage development and proved that they too were proficient at capturing food.

  

     Crab for breakfast doesn't sound too bad does it?
     As the boat drew closer to the island, some of the nesting gannets became visible as their numbers crowded on narrow ledges and rocky promontories high above the water.

     The gannet pageant was unfolding right before our eyes. It was as though Act 1 was the journey over on the boat, Act 2 the first appearance of the breeding birds massed on the cliffs; Act 3, the grand finale awaiting us at the main nesting grounds. And like every good drama, there was a level of suspense building up, waiting to see what the final act would bring.
     In addition to the gannets there is a significant population of Black-legged Kittiwakes ((Rissa tridactyla) on Île Bonaventure and I always take great pleasure in seeing this delicate little gull. The presence of many juvenile birds on the way over seemed to indicate that the colony had a successful breeding season.

      Adults drifted by like sprites upon the wind.

    
     The nesting area was impressive. Kittiwakes nest on very small ledges, often barely big enough to hold the nest, sometimes in dense concentrations, with birds at adjacent nests able to touch each other with outspread wings.

     Young Black-legged Kittiwakes are genetically imprinted not to wander, since they would simply fall to their death, and it looks as though this pair of youngsters has learned the lesson well and is ready for a life on the wind and the water.

     Everywhere I looked kittiwake life in all its glorious variation was there to see.

     Great Black-backed Gulls (Larus marinus), powerful and bold, are the street fighters of the larid world, and sometimes pose a serious threat to the young of smaller gulls such as kittiwakes.

     I have actually seen a Great Black-backed Gull teeter at the edge of a kittiwake nest, snatch out a youngster and in one gulp swallow the unfortunate gull chick whole.
     We docked and people poured off the boat. Since Île Bonaventure is a national park there is a fee to enter, and we had purchased our tickets the previous day, so we didn't have to line up to buy one. After an obligatory introductory spiel we were free to explore the wonders of this island nature reserve.
     American Crow (Corvus brachyrynchos) is a familiar scavenger along the shore, and Franc captured this enchanting picture of an individual on a log, erecting all its feathers, perhaps to permit cool air to flow through on a hot day.

     The walk to the breeding colony is a little under five kilometres but it passes through mixed habitat and there was a variety of birds. 
     American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla) was quite common throughout. I suspect that this species breeds right on the island.

     American Robin (Turdus migratorius) on the other hand was not nearly as numerous as one might have expected. The birds here looked a tad different from the birds we see at home and are certainly a distinct subspecies, although I am not sure which one.

     One of the greatest surprises as we made our way along the trails was a small group of Two-barred (aka White-winged) Crossbills (Loxia leucoptera) feeding on cones.

     We had been hearing Winter Wrens (Troglodytes hiemalis) for a while and finally one stayed in one place long enough for a photograph.

     At last, we started to hear the noise from the gannet metropolis, and even a little of the smell, although that was not nearly as strong as it had been the last time I was there; probably a different wind direction at that time.
      One more bend in the trail and there it was spread before us, all the glory and drama of thousands upon thousands of birds, cheek by jowl, engaged in the most fundamental of nature's imperatives, the perpetuation of the species.

     Birds brake in the air as they come in to land, being careful to touch down exactly at their own appointed few square centimetres, with their own mate, thereby avoiding the wrath of their neighbours.

     Adult and young rest close to each other; the adult perhaps warning others to keep their distance from the chick.

      Young birds are seen at every stage of development.

     There are mutual displays of what only can be described as tenderness and affection, between couples.

     But their bill is a powerful weapon when used for other purposes.

     Consider this episode recounted in Adam Nicolson's fabulous book The Seabird's Cry. (Background: a couple, Mike and Alison, walking on the beach had seen an injured bird they thought was a large gull and had picked it up.)

"A family of four, on the beach with their small black dog, came across the sand towards Mike and Alison and their bird. The dog ran towards them and barked, jumping up trying to get the tail feathers and so Mike moved the bird up a little. He looked down at it, still tucked under his arm like a bagpipe, to see it was not troubled, and as he did so the gannet reached up and destroyed his right eye, cutting away with the razortip of its beak at the eyball, at Mike's nose, and then at his other eye. The pain, Mike said was 'like somebody was sticking a pin through the back of your eye and trying to prise it out."

     The fact that gannets, for the most part, avoid serious conflict is obviously a very good thing.
     We finally had to tear ourselves away from the gannets since we had to keep in mind that the last boat departed at 17h:00 and it was a long walk back along the shore of the island.
     Both immature and adult Golden-crowned Kinglets (Regulus satrapa) were seen.

     A Black-and-white Warbler (Mniotilta varia) is always enchanting.

     Cape May Warbler (Setophaga tigrina) was quite common, distinct even in fall plumage.

     The following bird is a first fall female Cape May Warbler.

     Bay-breasted Warbler (Setophaga castanea) was seen several times, gleaning insects in the foliage of the trees.

     Magnolia Warblers (Setophaga magnolia) were already on the move too.

    Just before getting to the boat dock a Northern Harrier (Circus hudsonius) was seen migrating through the area. It looks like a young male to me.

  
     We actually were just in time to make the ferry at 16h:00 and had a speedy passage across to Percé. Franc had had a busy day. Does he look like he is ready for a nap?

     This fine fellow was a mine of information and chatted throughout the trip back to the mainland, even giving us his choices for places to eat, since we were already planning dinner at a local seafood restaurant for the following night.

     I am sorry I did not get his name.
     We drove home where we had more than enough leftovers from the past two night's meals to make a good dinner, and Franc made one of his signature tomato salads.
     It had been a wonderful day of birding, a day to remember, a day to learn from, a day to reflect on. This was our main reason for making the long drive to the Gaspé Peninsula. I think that everyone felt it was well worth it.

(Note: I had intended to break the trip into two parts, but I think the record of today's event is complete in itself and I will complete the final part of our adventure over the next couple of days.)

All species 13 August: Common Eider, Harlequin Duck, Northern Gannet, Double-crested Cormorant, Northern Harrier, Bald Eagle, Spotted Sandpiper, Lesser Yellowlegs, Black-legged Kittiwake, Ring-billed Gull, Great Black-backed Gull, American Herring Gull, Black Guillemot, Atlantic Puffin, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Downy Woodpecker, American Crow, Northern Raven, Cedar Waxwing, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Winter Wren, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Hermit Thrush, American Robin, Two-barred Crossbill, American Goldfinch, Black-and-white Warbler, American Redstart, Cape May Warbler, Magnolia Warbler, Bay-breasted Warbler, Palm Warbler, Myrtle Warbler, Song Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow,