|
November 16, 2006  Rosy Gray Area ‘Why don’t I receive more reports of White-headed Sparrows?’ I wondered as I stared through binoculars at a very elusive Finch with a light gray head that was crouched on the snowy ground only a few feet from me. It was Sunday morning and I was at the back of the arena waiting for Dave to appear. Likely I would have headed for this spot on my own but last night he phoned to ask if I would be around in the morning which means ‘for coffee’ even without the words being spoken. Earlier in the week I had told him of my discovery of good coffee at the concession stand at the arena on Sunday morning and I gathered that he remembered this conversation because we ended our phone call without even naming the place. Much to my chagrin the concession stand was closed when I arrived a bit before eight. I walked back outside into the steady west wind. There was no sign of Dave. Remembering that I had taken two bird houses off the fence behind the arena and stashed them in the grass and also tucked an interesting tree-like weed in the bushes in the same vicinity, I decided to kill time by wandering back to pick up these items. As I made my way through the wintry landscape I noticed that the marsh, which was ice-free a few days ago, was once again ice covered except for two small areas. There was little sign of bird life as I walked along save for a few marauding Ravens passing, wings rowing steadily in the steady wind, as if on important missions of their own. I took a slight detour to the little bridge at the outflow of the marsh and as I approached I could see a wake in the water which indicated there was something just over the bank. I suspected it might be a muskrat. I approached slowly and suddenly the head of a mallard thrust up into view. There was a clamor of splashing water and thrashing wings as eight ducks all rose into the air, some quacking as they lifted off. I identified them all as Mallards and watched as they circled left over the airport and headed westward in the direction of Exeter Lake, the nearest open water. I turned toward the rodeo ground and waded into the deep grass to the spot where I’d stashed my pseudo-tumbleweed bush. Then I picked up two birdhouses that I’d hastily placed on an old fence line early in this spring. Put there after I noticed a pair of Mountain Bluebirds that have nested in the concession stand building for the last two years were about to be displaced by changes to the building structure. Eventually the Bluebirds nested in the eaves on the back of the old arena and Tree Swallows attempted to nest in one of the bird boxes but were disturbed when someone opened the top of the box and left the nest exposed. With two bird boxes tucked under one arm and a wind catching pseudo-tumbleweed in the other hand, I started towards the van. As I drew even with the back of the arena a Junco called, so I turned toward the sound. It flew close to the ground and settled on the fence. ‘Just a Junco,’ I decided, ‘No need to put down my burden to look with binoculars.’ I turned from the Junco and immediately caught sight of another bird sitting on a nearby thistle. At first glance I saw a prominent pale wingbar and a finch or sparrow-like profile. I thought it was a Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch, so I made as little noise as possible and lowered the items I carried to the ground. I also swiftly peeled off my gloves so I could dig for binoculars, all while keeping a steady gaze on the suspect bird. ‘Oh great,’ I thought, when the bird flew off. Luckily it only leapt down to the ground and hopped around for a bit, now closer than before. I trained the binoculars on it and knew at once that it was indeed a Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch. Though this species is not what would be called rare in my area of the Cariboo, it certainly is not common. My relationship with this family of birds is odd. I saw my first Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch in 1994 when a flock of about 10 flew alongside a car in which I was a passenger. There was no doubt of their identity but it’s not an ideal way to see a bird species for the first time. I never encountered them again until a few years later. It was probably about 1997. I was at the dump when I spotted a bird on an expanse of snow picking at the tops of weeds. I walked towards the bird and got very close. This was lucky because at the time I had no binoculars handy and it might have been difficult to get an exact identity without binoculars. It turned out to be a Black Rosy Finch, a bird found in the mountainous regions of the western United States. This particular bird was of such dark plumage that it was quite difficult to make out a rosy aspect but on close inspection, it was there. Now, for my third occasion, I was in the presence of a Rosy-Finch with ample time to study its particular markings. Its head was essentially gray except for a dash of black in the forehead and throat region. The body was pinkish with a scaly appearance due to the lighter edging of its feathers. The feet were black and set wide apart due, I assumed, to the birds’ penchant for ground perching. I later consulted Sibley’s Guide to Birds and found that this particular Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch was not a typical Interior Gray-crowned. It was a Coastal Gray-cheeked, or Hepburn’s race of the Finch. The Interior Gray-crowned Rosy-finch does not have an extensive gray over the head but mainly on the nape and sides of the head over the auricular area. I watched the Coastal Gray-cheeked Rosy-Finch for some time. The tumbleweed I’d put down began rolling away and I followed, leaving the Rosy-Finch to its thistle seeds. I left and thought about how odd it was that after encountering Rosy-Finches on three occasions, I’d yet to see the true Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch. This is not to say that my other encounters with the various Finch races haven’t been noteworthy because they certainly have. Perhaps the hardest bird to see is the one I thought to be most common. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
